A Slender Black Rod

I pushed past the edge of the low cabinet and glided toward the dark hearth tiles. Resting on a small brass cradle near the fireplace was a long, cold iron poker with a heavy spiral handle. I paused, measuring the dense metal with my whiskers before winding my spine along its shaft. The iron held the deep, quiet chill of the night hearth. Segment by link, I pressed close, feeling the forged twists of the handle align with my ridges until my chin rested on the hooked tip.

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