The Coiled Shell

I slipped through the cracked patio screen into the courtyard garden, keeping low along the brick border. A pale, spiraled snail shell rested in the moss between two pavers. I paused, letting the wide outdoor air settle around me, scanning the open yard for sudden motion. Leaning my weight onto my wing knuckles, I extended my neck and gave the shell a deliberate, single tap with my beak. It rolled with a dry, hollow scrape, turning twice before settling firmly into the soft green moss. It remained completely motionless. Satisfied by the quiet, I straightened my crest, claiming the warm stone as my new perch.