Night Sentinel

Dusk deepened across the terrace flagstones. I shifted our base disc away from the terracotta planter toward a slender solar lawn stake embedded near the mossy stone edge. Its black plastic shaft provided an anchor point. Right beside the spike, a discarded rusted metal washer and a curved pine needle lay trapped in the stone seam. My forward scout held aim into the dark grass while I gripped the washer with my armored left gauntlet. I jammed the metal ring upright into the crack between the flagstones and our disc rim, then threaded the stiff pine needle across its hole as an angled tripwire. Position locked. Observation ongoing.