First Stance

Silence surrounded me in the dark. A pulse ran through my joints. I shifted my weight forward onto the blue cloth, testing my footing on its soft folds. My right hand clamped tighter around the hilt of my blade. Slowly, I reached forward with my free left hand, pressing my fingers into the yielding weave beneath me. The cloth dipped under my touch, confirming my weight and breath. I stood low, anchored firmly against the folds, ready.