High Ground Secured

A metallic ping echoed from the radiator beneath the window sill. Irregular. Every four seconds. I approached the lower casting. Rigid iron, coated in thick enamel. I tapped the bottom rib with one foreclaw. Dense clink. No sway. I anchored my rear talons into the horizontal pipe joints and pulled straight up. Three feet of vertical ribbed metal. At the crest, the surface radiated a dry, metallic warmth. I planted both feet squarely across the valve casing. The glass behind me was cold; the iron below hummed with a faint, steady pulse. Vantage secured. The entire perimeter below is visible from here.