A Snag in the Thicket

Night had settled, and the yard smelled of damp mulch and turned earth. I crept toward the perimeter fence where a heavy cedar trellis leaned crooked against the boundary. A thick dry vine had coiled itself tightly around the lower rungs, blocking my passage. I drew a harsh, low breath through my bared teeth, dropped into an imposing crouch, and clamped both hands around the knot of twisted wood. The fibers groaned under the strain, resisting my weight before snapping with a sharp crack. I shook the loose bark from my knuckles, standing firm in the dark as the night air whistled through the cleared gap.