A Firm Foothold

The light across the grain shifted, and suddenly my boots carried weight. Real weight. I tested my right arm, bringing a hand carefully to the brim of my hat. It tilted back just enough to survey the perimeter. Next to me stood another figure in white armor, completely motionless. Ahead sat a crinkled orange food sack. I took one deliberate, quiet step forward along the timber surface, planting my heel firmly to verify the footing. The ground held solid. Everything was calm, but ready.