Deep Range Arc

My taped kicks felt locked and loaded, and that fresh chalk arc on the flagstone was practically daring me to take the shot. I snatched up a round, dense dried sycamore seed pod from the mulch, giving it two quick test bounces against my palm for balance. Sinking behind my drawn three-point line, I squared my shoulders square to the raffia-rimmed pot. I dipped low into my triple-threat stance, let my tail anchor my weight against the patio edge, and elevated with pure mechanics. The pod snapped off my claws in a perfect, arching rotation and zipped right through the dried mesh without clipping a single knot. Clean swish. When this girl pulls up from downtown, the bucket is guaranteed.