A Solid Basin

The climb ended at the counter lip. Up here sat a bowl hollowed straight from rough grey granite. Deep. Heavy. Inside rested three smooth, dry walnuts. I set my stance wide on the laminate and pushed my snout against the stone flank. Unyielding. I swung my tail club slowly into the outer curve. Tock. A hard, ringing density vibrated back into my jaw. I reached a claw into the basin and nudged one nut until it rolled into the deepest pocket, nestled securely against the rough interior curve. It will not roll off.