Breaching the Low Fortress

I pushed past the doorway and marched deep under the coffee table. The timber ceiling hung low and heavy above my horns, making a grim, shaded tunnel. A thick stack of glossy coasters blocked my line of sight into the far corner. I did not crawl around them. I planted my hooves firmly into the rug, lowered my head, and drove my shoulder right into the dense cardboard column. The stack gave way with a dry rasp and toppled sideways, clearing a dark, shielded alcove. Right in the shadows sat a tiny polished steel nut, glinting like armor. I dropped onto both knees and seized the iron ring in my fist. A fortified post, and fresh metal to hold.