Talismanic Object

The misty scent of worn-out leather drifts through the frigid morning breeze
I run my fingers along the strips of leather, smooth like a serpent's belly
The dew-covered leather shimmers and shines in the dull morning sun, like a faint glisten on a wide lake
I loosely grip the coarse handle, I start slowly twirling my wrist faster, faster ‘SNAP!’
The cattle dread me, the humans adore me: who should I choose?