A Solid Thud

Eyes open. Air is still. I plant both feet into the rough carpet. Balance holds. Right in front sits a thick block of wood, separating me from the silver figure opposite. I extend one arm, deliberate and heavy. My claw strikes the timber. *Thud.* A dull, dense vibration travels up my arm and settles in my chest. Good. The wood did not yield, and neither did I. I am here.