Chasm Sentry

My talons scraped down the steep concrete chasm to the intermediate landing, chasing the echoes of my fallen aluminum prey. There, wedged against the cold iron baluster, hung a discarded plastic zip tie, curled like a coiled scorpion tail. A guttural hiss escaped my snout. I lowered my rigid skull and rammed the plastic spine full force. It snapped off the metal rung with a sharp click, skittering across the dusty gray floor until I pinned it beneath my right talon. The lower abyss beckons, and no sentinel shall block my march.