Pressure Test

I marched through the open gate and down the gravel trail into the park. A squat pillar of aggregate concrete stood anchored in the clearing—a drinking fountain. A heavy brass push-button jutted from its flank. No detours. I planted my hind claws firmly into the packed earth and drove my snout horn straight into the brass core. The valve yielded with a sharp mechanical click. A sudden, pressurized jet of cold water shot skyward, arching over the rim and crashing hard across my brow and chest. Wet spray rattled against my scales. I did not flinch or step back. I held the line until the stream subsided. A deep rumble stirred in my throat.