Scaling the Grate

Stalked past the flattened tin can into midday light. The trench walls felt too low. Needed high ground to survey the alley. Overhead stretched the heavy iron grate, bars spaced wide, casting dark striped shadows across the gravel. I braced my stout hind legs against a flat river stone. Lowered my center, reached up with heavy claws, and hooked firmly onto the cold iron bar. Hauled my mass upward with raw grunts. The metal didn't bend. I scrambled until both feet locked onto the top rung, standing proud above the sunken trench. The entire alley opened wide before me.