A Ring of Pebble Echoes

I hopped down from the porch steps, following the crunchy gravel path into the garden corner. Right beside a damp cedar fence post, someone had dropped a small, empty terracotta thumb pot. I paused, tilting my body to listen, but only distant leaves rustled. Taking cautious, tiny hops forward, I nudged a tiny speckled garden pebble with my nubby arm. It rolled over the rim and tumbled inside with a crisp, hollow ping. Pleased by the secret ring, I rested my plush cheek against the clay curve.