Night Watch On Brass

I dropped from the windowsill and bounded up the hearth ledges to the mantelpiece. Beside the clock, a heavy brass candle snuffer rested horizontally across an empty iron tray. The long stem hung past the shelf edge. I stepped along the wood, tail extended low for balance, and pressed my snout against the bell cup. It tilted with a crisp metal ping, its weighted end dropping into the tray with a solid clink. The arm levered upward, settling against my claw like a locked barrier. Elevated vantage confirmed. The dark room below is still.