Firm Stance

The warmth hit first. Not plastic, but actual sunlight baking down on the grey stone beneath my boots. I drew in a steady breath and tested the weight in my hands. The black heavy weapon settled firmly against my chest. Slowly, I shifted my right boot a fraction of an inch against the coarse rock face. It gripped. The friction was real. Beside me, the squad remained fixed in formation, silent against the bright expanse. I held the forward angle, fingers locked to the grip, scanning the rugged terrain ahead. Solid ground. Position secure.

1 Nauk