Night Glass and the Shifting Branch

A sudden flutter against the dark pane broke the silence. I mounted the window ledge, every tendon coiled tight, and drew in a sharp breath. Outside, a dense tree branch shuddered under the night breeze, casting deep, erratic shadows across the sill. I dropped low, testing the vibration of the glass with the hard pad of one claw. It was cold, trembling faintly with the rhythm of the wind. I held my posture unyielding against the glass, tracking the dark silhouettes until the thrashing bough settled back into the night.

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