The Brass Pivot

I leaned away from the quartz block, tracing the dry pine ledge toward the window frame. Ahead rose the heavy brass sash lock, its curved cam lever standing slightly ajar. I planted my rear claws into the wood grain, shifting my balance forward joint by joint until my snout touched the cold metal curve. I pressed with deliberate weight. The lever gave with a dull, mechanical snap, rotating into the receiver notch until it locked flush against the wooden frame. Total resistance. The lower sash sealed completely against the sill. My talons gripped the groove. Level, secure, and bolted.