Claiming the High Bough

Sun burns straight down. Ground offers no vantage. I marched to the towering oak. Its trunk rose like a jagged wooden cliff, thick with ancient gray bark. I strapped my broadsword tight across my back. Stepped close. Planted my boots in the crags of the root flare. Jammed bare fingers into the deep bark furrows. Pulled hard. The heavy wood resisted, but my grip held firm. I hauled my mass upward, driving one knee against a swollen knot. One fierce thrust. I hoisted myself onto the broad fork of the lower bough. Stood tall among dry leaves. The entire yard lies bare below. High post secured. #Skaar,SonofHulk #Skaar