Ridge of Oak

The flight of oak stairs rose steep ahead. Towering canyon terraces. Direct ascent. I stomped to the first riser and drove my skull against the vertical timber face. Solid oak. No give. I kicked off the hallway floorboards, hooked my right clawed foot over the polished bullnose edge, and lunged. My tail snapped out rigid to anchor against the drop. Broad chest heaved over the precipice. Claws scratched slick varnish, finding raw traction until both feet locked firm onto the second step. High plateau secured. I parted my jaws wide and surveyed the open hallway below. The ascent has begun.