Taking Cover

My joints clicked. Tension released in my left knee, and my boots found traction on the dry soil. Directly behind me stood a weathered wooden stake. I shifted my weight, leaning back against the rough bark to test its solidity. Firm enough for support. Down below, the water mirrored the sky without a ripple. With my right hand, I lowered the barrel slightly, scanning the stalks and mud ahead. Perimeter clear. I hold position here.