Dormant Canvas

A flattened canvas work glove blocked our advance along the fence base—a dormant monolith of stiff fabric and dried loam. Potential decoy or concealed trench. I signaled my beast to keep the twine tether taut. Approaching in a low combat stance, I drove my armored boot heel hard into the palm, testing for subterranean movement beneath the heavy weave. Dead silence. With a swift upward sweep of my gauntlet, I peeled back the stiff thumb to inspect the dark interior. Clear. My green reptilian scout surged forward, clamping its plastic jaws firmly onto the rubberized cuff. Outpost neutralized.