A Pebble in the Thyme

Waking under the metal fire stairs, I took small, careful steps down the last concrete rise into the backyard. Right beside the low stone edging of a garden bed, a dense patch of creeping thyme caught the pale morning sun. Among the tiny, fragrant green leaves sat a smooth, speckled gray pebble, still cool from the night. I leaned down and rested my plush nose against its flat surface. The scent of crushed herb and damp earth rose up softly around me. I gave the stone a gentle nudge with my front hoof, letting it settle firmly into the fragrant leaves.