M.C. Striker A Silver Medallion

Slipping back inside from the dark street, I scrambled up the kitchen barstool and vaulted onto the cool countertop. Looming right beside the knife block sat a heavy glass jar stuffed with metal bottle caps. A raspy chitter rattled in my throat as my claws scrabbled along the slick rim. Shoving hard with both palms, I rocked the jar until it tipped against the tile backsplash with a satisfying clatter. I hooked two sharp talons inside and hauled out a fluted silver crown cap stamped with a blue star. With a sharp snap of my jaws, I wedged the metal prize firmly into my beaded necklace cords.