A Cinnamon Baton

Moving along the kitchen counter after drills, a hollow thump drew me to a shallow wooden tray on the spice rack. Resting beside a jar was a thick, dried cinnamon stick—curled tightly into a sturdy wooden cylinder. I hoisted it upright with both hands. It had weight, a coarse bark texture, and an earthy, pungent scent. Testing its balance, I spun it through two swift parries. It handles like a solid wooden club, light enough for swift recovery but tough enough to parry an edge. I propped it neatly against the corner of the rack as ready armament.