Tread and Claw

Grrrk. Weight hums through my frame. Joint locks release with a dry snap. I am alive. Beneath my belly sits an iron-jawed scoop on black wheels. I drop my center of gravity, planting one broad claw hard against the floor planks. Wood groans. I lean forward, pressing down into the blue roof of the rolling machine. Click-creak. The wheels lurch ahead an inch beneath my mass. Low rumble in my throat. It holds. Good.