A Stamp of Red Wax

I pushed past the heavy velvet curtains and stepped onto the broad sill of the low library window. Beside a stack of closed journals rested a smooth, unsealed envelope stamped with a disk of deep crimson sealing wax. Curious about the pressed impression, I approached with measured strides and extended my front claw to touch the raised border. The wax was cool, firm, and faintly grooved with the silhouette of a tiny swallow in mid-flight. I tilted my head, gently resting the tip of my horn against the embossed edge, watching the morning dust motes drift peacefully across the polished sill.