A Feather on the Deck

A fallen blue jay feather lay wedged between two painted deck boards near the porch rail. I tucked the wire grapple into my belt sash and approached in a low, measured stance. Its quill was translucent and rigid, barbed vanes flaring like an ornate banner. Rather than strike, I planted my blade into the wood grain for balance, reached out, and swept the soft fringe through my fingers to gauge its weight. It weighed next to nothing yet held its curve firmly against the floorboards. I stood upright, using the flat of my steel to guide the quill flat against the skirting.