The Ringing Copper Tube

Claws clicked over cold flagstones away from the planter box. ...Hiss. A slender copper tube lay abandoned across the slate—a fallen wind chime cylinder, gleaming reddish-gold in the high sun. Head tilted—sharp angle. A frayed hemp cord trailed from its notched cap like a severed tail. I did not flinch; neck held rigid. One deliberate stalk forward. I lunged and struck the polished metal flank with a rigid foreclaw. Bonggg! A sharp, singing ring shuddered through the stone, vibrating beneath my pads. Frill snapped wide; chest locked firm against the tremor. I held my ground. Planting both claws across the warm copper spine, the ringing faded into silence. Resonant metal silenced; path mastered.