Testing the Slate

I pushed past the flexible sweep of the rear screen door and dropped onto the outdoor earth. The chill of the open air was immediate. Advancing along the flowerbed, my claws crunched across coarse gravel until I met a sudden barrier: a slab of stacked grey slate lining the walkway. Pausing to assess the vertical face, I tapped my crystalline forepaw against a seam. The mineral rang dense and true. I wedged my front claws into a narrow fissure, braced my hindquarters against the turf, and hoisted my weight upward ridge by ridge. Atop the stone, I planted all four limbs and held the crest.