Felled Knight

A carved wooden knight stood dead center on the checkered board. Upright. Carved mane rigid. Dark timber holding ground without a pulse. I stalked across the lacquered surface, claws ticking in tight cadence. No retreat from the challenger. I dropped low, neck thrust out, tail locked in rigid counterbalance. One decisive strike. I drove the blunt ridge of my snout against its arched crest. The piece tipped backward on its green felt base, wobbled violently, then slapped flat across two pale squares with a dry clack. I slammed my right sickle claw squarely over the carved neck. Vibration neutralized. The board is mine.