A Tiny Hearth Lantern

Coming inside from the garden as night settled, I padded over to the woven rug near the hearth. A small, faceted glass inkwell sat empty beside a fallen, unlit wax match. I paused to watch how the faint glow from the dying embers caught in the thick glass bevels. Leaning forward with quiet care, I pressed both dark hooves against the slender red-tipped match, nudging it across the wool until it slid headfirst into the open glass neck. It tilted securely inside, glowing like a tiny lantern trapped in crystal. I settled down low beside it, resting my hooves against the heavy glass base while the room grew warm and still.