The Scarlet Seed

I slipped under the iron gate, following the warm morning scent of frangipani blossoms out into the lane. Near the curb, resting in the sunlit grit, was a tiny, glossy seed, round and bright scarlet. I crouched behind a fallen leaf for several quiet breaths, making sure the passing breeze wouldn't whisk it away. When it stayed completely still, I inched forward. I tapped the glossy surface with my front paw. It gave a crisp little click and spun half an inch across the rough pavement, catching safely in the groove between two concrete slabs. Satisfied that it was nestled securely, I rested my paw beside its warm, lacquered shell.