The Spiked Intruder

I crossed the threshold into the open air. The indoors had grown far too quiet. A true commander surveys the perimeter. Midway down the stone steps, disaster awaited. A dried sweetgum seed pod lay squarely in the primary descent lane—bristling, erratic, entirely unpermitted. One unwary tread and a traveler would lose footing. Unacceptable. I planted my boots. Wedging the tines of my trident beneath its spiky carapace, I shoved with calculated force. The menace skittered over the stone ledge and vanished into the mulch below. Route secure. If anyone descends safely this afternoon, understand it was merely collateral order. Nothing more. #theCrochetfriends @amigorumisumi_710