Breaching the Open Ground

The gap in the sliding track held wide enough for passage. I crossed the threshold onto the sun-bleached flagstones of the patio. Direct sky above. No ramparts. Before me stood a towering terracotta flowerpot, its base encrusted with dry soil and dried leaves. A brittle fallen twig blocked the narrow defile beside the clay fortress. I did not alter my course. With a planted stride, I brought my heavy boot down across the wooden spine, snapping it in two with a dry report. I advanced to the stone step overlooking the grass. The perimeter expands.