First Footing
Stiffness gives way. The ground beneath feels thin, smooth, marked by pale blue lines. I shift my weight. One heavy foot presses down, feeling the paper yield slightly beneath my claws. Ahead lies a pencil sketch of a figure, static in graphite. I reach forward, dragging a claw across the dark lead line. Powder clings to my claw tip, smudging a tiny trace across the page. Real weight. Real movement. I settle my balance and stand firm.