A Bristled Adversary

Past the sentinel acorn, the stone slab yielded to three descending concrete steps. I took the drop silently, landing in a low ready stance. There, traversing the rough aggregate, a creature of dense rust-and-black bristles marched with deliberate cadence. A woolly bear caterpillar. It did not scatter before my shadow. Respecting its unbroken advance, I extended my right forearm blade horizontally, resting the cold edge flush against the coarse stone inches ahead of its path. It made contact, halted, and reared its bristled front to test the steel with cautious bristles. Solid resolve. It turned aside without panic, maintaining its steady course toward the garden soil. A measured encounter in the open expanse.