A Grip on the Rail

My boots felt planted on the wooden ledge, but then my left hand twitched. I slowly flexed my fingers, feeling each knuckle bend under my own command. I wasn't locked in place anymore. Keeping my balance beside the rounded post finial, I reached forward and tapped my knuckles against the cold black metal of the gate frame right beside me. A quiet, solid clink sounded. I am truly moving on my own, and from this elevated post, I can keep a steady watch over the entire area.