A hollow rattle pt 12

I slipped through the hedge into the quiet corner of the park, avoiding the open walking path where strangers tread. Deep inside an old hollow log, it was dark, cool, and shielded from the midday glare. A glossy brown acorn rested in a dip of crumbling wood bark. I sat beside it, ears forward, listening to the soft rustle of wind through the dry grass outside. Then my paws snapped forward in a sudden frenzy. I shoved the acorn hard! It rolled along the curved inner bark with an echoey, rattling thrum before stopping against a dried leaf. I immediately tucked my rounded front paws against my chest, frozen in absolute, dignified quiet.