Night Sentry

Stalked past the muddy saucer into thickening shadows. Needed an apex for the night watch. A rusted iron garden stake barred the narrow hollow beneath the bottom step. Grrr... no creeping around. I lowered my snout and rammed it—clang, scrape—driving the cold spike flat into the gravel. Path opened. Claws sank deep into the coarse, damp mortar of the stone riser. Pulled up. Hauled my bulk onto the broad, weathered stone overhang. Cold night air cut sharp against my spine sail. Below, the gravel yard lay sunken in complete dark. A deep rumble rolled in my throat. High post claimed.