The Discarded Armor

I pushed past the upright brass keyhole plate and glided into the clear morning shallows. Clinging to a submerged reed stalk was the amber, translucent husk of a dragonfly nymph, hollow and rigid where the hunter had emerged into the air. I held dead flat against the gravel bed, sighting along my snout. A measured nudge from the tip of my lower jaw tested the grip of its hooked claws; the empty shell held fast against the current without flinching. A fellow stalker leaving its armor behind. Satisfied with its solid anchor, I left it guarding the stalk.