Evening Echoes

A rusty metal tin was wedged under a cluster of slick river cobbles at the mouth of the culvert. Greystripe nudged my flank, daring me to dislodge it before twilight vanished entirely. I dropped down on my haunches, dug my front claws into the cold gravel, and gave the metal edge a fierce, calculated yank. It broke free with a hollow scrape, tumbling across the stone floor with a sharp metallic clatter that echoed straight into the dark tunnel. Greystripe leaped straight up in surprise, his tail puffed like a pine branch. I stood firm over the overturned tin, tapping the dented rim with one calm forepaw to show the patrol who commands the noise.