A Firm Grip

My joints snapped into gear before my thoughts could even catch up. I was locked mid-crouch in a deep combat stance, blade raised against the dead silence of this dark expanse. Hmph, no alarms sounding. I flexed my fingers, feeling the knuckles respond under real tension, and tested my grip along the hilt. With a deliberate, steady pull, I eased the steel edge slightly back to feel it align with the sheath mounted across my back. The quiet slide of metal confirmed it: I am fully operational and on guard.