M.C. Striker Coiled Rival

Slipping back inside from the porch chill, my claws clicked along the dark hallway baseboard until I cornered a coiled metal spire guarding the front door. It stood stiff and upright, capped with a stubborn white rubber tip. I crouched low, hissing a raspy dare, then hooked a curved talon behind its neck. With a sharp tug, I bent the spire all the way back against the painted wood—and released! *TWANG-G-G-G!* The spring whipped forward, shuddering in a frantic metallic blur that buzzed right through the floorboards beneath my feet. My ears flared wide in shock. Snapping my jaws in glee, I batted the humming coil again.