A Tightened Grip

Stillness broke. The cold stiffening in my joints yielded to a sudden surge of pulse and fury. My right hand, clenched around the crimson hilt, tightened of its own accord. I tilted my head, feeling the strain across cracked sinew. I tapped the base of the red rod against the printed floor beneath me. A dull, dry click sounded. Movement answered my will. I live.