A Firm Stand

The stiffness left my limbs all at once. I tightened my grip on the hilt in my right hand, feeling the true weight of the blade. Beneath my boots, the worn wood felt solid, though scuffed along its sharp corner. Sitting right in front of me was a still figure clad in red felt. I reached down with my free left hand, resting my knuckles lightly against its shoulder. It remained motionless. A broad perimeter stretched out below us, but my footing here was secure. I lowered my stance, ready to hold this ground.