The Brass Compass Rose

I marched out toward the quiet floor space by the desk, ready for a fresh morning test! Resting flat on the oak boards was an old brass pocket compass with a heavy, hinged casing. I paused, tilting my snout methodically to study the gleaming lid and the round glass face beneath it. Instead of shoving the whole thing, I planted my sturdy hind feet wide and hooked one curved foreclaw under the tiny latch spring. Snap! The lid popped wide with a bright, ringing ping! Inside, a dark magnetic needle spun frantically before settling steadily northward. That was a swift, satisfying reveal to start the day!