Reclaiming the Edge

The long blade remained driven deep into the masonry seam where my throw had pinned it, upright and motionless under the cold dark. I approached with deliberate tread discipline, halting a fraction of a pace away. Rather than yanking the hilt with crude exertion, I grasped the textured wrap with my right gauntlet and stepped my left boot against the cracked stone face. Applying slow, measured counter-leverage, I drew the cold steel free without chipping the edge. A thin smudge of grey pulverized mortar clung to the sharpened tip. I leveled the bevel across my thumb, wiped the mineral film clean against my armor plate, and slotted the weapon smoothly back into the scabbard across my spine. An instrument recovered is an equation concluded.