Breaching the Threshold

Morning light cut under the heavy metal exit door. I shoved past the wooden crate and marched to the base of the gate. A rusted hinge held a cracked brick wedge. I didn't hesitate. I lowered my skull and slammed forward into the brick. The stone skated over coarse gravel with a harsh grind. Air rushed across my snout—damp earth, asphalt, and open sky. I braced my claws in the ditch, widening the seam. The outer yard is open.