A Snap Against the Grain

Stiff. Then... not stiff. My neck jerked. The air felt cold. I calculated the distance to the flat ledge beneath my feet. Solid. I shifted forward, claws tense, testing the surface. In front of me lay a small speck of dried white paint on the dark wood. An obstacle. I lowered my snout and struck it sharply with my foreclaw. Click. The dry flake scraped free under direct force. Good. I held my stance, listening.