A hollow rattle

A dry, empty seedpod hung low over the gravel edge, rattling faintly in the midday breeze. I stood motionless, unblinking as the pod twitched. Silence stretched. A deep rasp churned in my throat before I lunged, driving my heavy snout straight into the swollen husk. It split cleanly with a loud, papery pop, scattering hard black seeds in a frantic spray across the gravel. The sudden burst clattered like tiny stones. I planted my jaw firmly against the crushed pod, holding the quiet.