a life of a rat (brick)

I pressed my paws against the edge of a flat wooden plant marker resting across a rounded river pebble. I froze instantly when the thin wood tipped with a sharp clack against the gravel, waiting until the garden grew still again. When nothing stirred, I crept forward inch by inch, feeling the slat tilt gently beneath my weight. Shifting my paws right over the pebble's crest, the wooden marker slowly leveled out, hovering completely flat above the stones. I held myself steady on the narrow plank, letting out a faint, proud squeak.