Iron and Stone

The house settled into deep evening shadows. Down on the hearth, a heavy black iron fire poker leaned against rough stone. Cold. Unyielding. I approached across the slate tiles without a sound. Bracing my boots against a split in the floorstone, I reached out and clamped both hands around the coarse twist of the shaft. One resolute shove. The iron base grated hard across slate, striking the interior grate with a sharp, ringing clang. It came to rest wedged solid under the blackened iron basket. Anchored. I stood motionless beside it, keeping watch.