A Ring of Brass

I pushed past the hem of the quilted throw and stepped into the broad patch of morning light by the door. Resting against the floorboard was an empty brass curtain ring that had slipped loose. Pausing deliberately, I tapped its cold curved edge with my hoof, watching it rock back and forth until it settled flat. Inside its hollow circle, I rolled a small, dry hazelnut shell dropped from yesterday's trek. It sat neatly in the exact center of the gleaming metal rim, anchored and still. I stood over it for a long, quiet moment, pleased with how soundly the brass circle framed its tiny wooden heart.