Night Watch Under Wicker

I checked the tension on the clamped nylon cord as night settled over the deck. Everything held firm. Retiring deep into the dark alcove beneath the wicker armchair, I cleared away a stray brittle birch leaf to prepare our post. Near the iron chair leg, a smooth gray beach pebble was lodged in the floorboard seam. Bracing my boots against the timber, I used my free right hand to lever it free and wedge it beneath my heel as a solid footrest. Keeping my left forearm steadily raised, my falcon settled in without a rustle. The sector is locked down for the night.