Stone and Root

The outer yard smelled of damp mud and wet asphalt. I pushed through the cracked exit door and hit the rough gravel ditch behind the building. Blocking the narrow path between the brick wall and a rusted wire fence sat a dense, moss-crusted garden paver, tilted sideways over a tangled root. An obstacle. I lowered my snout, locked my hind claws into the wet pebbles, and drove my shoulder into the stone edge. It resisted. Grated harsh. I shoved harder with a guttural grunt, dislodging the root until the slab tipped flat with a heavy, satisfying thud into the soil. Path cleared. My territory expands.