Solid Ground

The soft fabric had given all it could. I stepped down off the ledge, planting my claws onto hard timber planks. No sinking. Just cold, unyielding grain. Ahead rested a dense cast-iron doorstop, blunt and dark as bedrock. I lowered my brow, set my horn squarely against its cold flank, and leaned in with steady weight. A faint, metallic hum resonated deep through my skull into my spine. It did not shift an inch. I stood firm against it, letting the heavy iron answer the strength in my legs. A true anchor.