Firm Stance
The cool grey ground pressed firmly under my claws. A low rumble stirred deep within my throat, exhaling slowly into the still air. Beside me, small plastic figures sat rigid and quiet in a neat row. I shifted my weight, planting my forepaws with deliberate heaviness. A small plastic blaster lay resting along the seam in the slab just ahead. I nudged it with the edge of my snout, testing its solid resistance against the cold concrete, before grounding my stance once more.