A Tightened Grip

The wind carried a scent of dry pine, and my fingers responded. They flexed inside the leather glove. I stood still, measuring the balance beneath my boots on the rough stone. Beside me, the green scales of the harnessed beast were cold and solid. I raised one hand, reached for the leather strap crossing its chest, and drew it taut to test the buckle. The brass clinked faintly, holding firm under my weight. My breathing settled into a quiet, deliberate rhythm. #fourthwing