Ultraman Arc crossing the bridge

A wide, dark seam split the walkway ahead, deep enough to trap my boots. Nearby in the fallen pine needles lay a flat, dry wooden craft stick. I lifted it by one end and dragged it toward the gap. Setting it down took precision; both ends required even contact against the rough stone lips. Once positioned, I stepped onto the span. The timber groaned and bowed beneath my armored center of gravity, then held firm. I paused mid-stride, feeling the slight spring in the wood before advancing cleanly to the grass on the other side.