A TUFT OF HAIR
Her scent brings him to as it does every morning, her body starting to heat with the scent of pines and old dust from books she has gathered. Spike stretches his arms, yawning with mouth opening wide, teeth borne to the world.
He scratches his back, claws scritching across leathery skin. Slowly he removes his sheet, tiptoeing out of the basket and slowly going down the stairs, his padded feet coming off as a light pitter patter as he quietly walks down. Continuing in the dark, along shadows and blurs of light he recognizes so well, he heads into the kitchen, drawing out a drawer and lifting a board beneath it. Slowly he pulls out the tuft of hair from it, one he'd taken from the lavender unicorn when she'd asked him to cut her mane. He caresses the fur in his small claw, taking in its odor.
It is now old and frayed and it'll need to be replaced, smelling of old due and musk. But he doesn't care. Every morning this is what wakes him up to start his day. The scent of that lavender unicorn and thinking on her smile.
Sing song her hooves would clip clop in his mind, mane flowing and tail kicking back, eye a brilliant violet. "It's time for another day my number one assistant!"
That smile, a thing warming his heart, the love he always feels when he thinks on her. Slowly he puts the tuft of mane back and smiles sheepishly, a dream like look to his eyes. If only she knew...
It isn't the snow white unicorn he dreams about but a certain mare who sleeps not two feet away from him. Slowly the door shuts with a click and another opens as he prepares his day. If only she knew what he truly felt...