A Soft Blade of Grass
The ground felt... cool. Beneath my hooves, damp soil yielded just a tiny bit. I blinked, sensing the quiet evening chill. Carefully, I lifted my front right hoof... it moved. Just ahead, a single tall blade of green grass swayed gently in the breeze. I leaned down, hesitant, and tapped it with the tip of my muzzle. It bent, then sprang right back against my nose with a soft rustle. I stepped forward once more, resting my hooves firmly among the tiny clover leaves.