Return Orbit

My thrusters hummed on low power as I steered away from the dumpster gravel, setting a homeward trajectory along the fence line. Days of alleyway cartography had drained my reserves, and the garden looked like a warm, familiar haven. Approaching the bottom gap under the wooden gate, I found a dry pinecone resting beside a discarded plastic cable tie. Lowering my nosecone, I nudged the jagged tie until its serrated strap hooked squarely into the pinecone's scales, forming a stable ramp against the muddy rise. With one clean glide over the threshold, my delta wing touched the cool clover lawn again. Home station reached!