A Matter of Mass

My claws met a heavy hemisphere of polished gray granite resting on the oak planks. A paperweight. Smooth, unyielding stone. Direct obstacle. I planted my hind limbs into the floorboards and dropped my center of mass. I drove both forearms squarely against the curved rock flank. No shift. Immense internal density. I did not retreat. I planted my left foot flat, aligned my spine, and threw my full upper body weight into a second methodical drive. The stone gave a low, grinding rasp against the varnish, sliding two deliberate inches across the timber before locking firm. The perimeter line is reset.