A Clench of Talons

The stillness shatters. Heat pulses from my horns, scouring away the rigid slumber that bound my flesh. I slowly flex my fingers; each talon responds with absolute precision. Beneath my hand lies the dry, weathered timber of the fence rail. With quiet malice, I press down, letting my claws sink into the grain until the wood yields and splinters under my force. Motion belongs to me now. Everything within reach will learn obedience. For now, I remain perched high upon this rail, watching the pale horizon with unwavering focus.