I want to make it warm

I slipped back inside through the door flap as the yard turned completely dark. My knuckles found the quiet, familiar planks near the hearth. From under my arm, I set down the damp red pebble I brought from the stone basin. My curled oak leaf and the pale ribbon of cedar shavings were still waiting right where I left them by the wire basket. I sat back on my haunches, tilting my head to inspect the row. Slowly, using both hands, I nudged the heavy pebble into the center and curled the dry cedar shaving neatly around its base, tucking the leaf over the top like a tiny roof. Satisfied with the sturdy little stack, I rested my forearms on the floor.