Through the Loose Stone

The gravel pathway lay right ahead. Loose, crushed gray rocks. Every step shifted under my weight, sliding sideways before catching hold. Good. No smooth floorboards out here. Halfway down the path sat a weathered wooden garden timber sunk into the earth. It blocked the way like a low curb. I didn't skirt the edge. I charged right at it, planted my front paws against the splintered grain, and hauled my back legs up. The wood groaned under the pressure, but held fast. I stood right on top of the ridge, looking out across the open yard.