Standing Ground

My fists were raised. For a long time, nothing moved. Then, warmth stirred inside my knuckles. I flexed my fingers, feeling the joints give way under my own control. The stillness broke. Across the circular paving, another figure remained frozen mid-guard. I shifted my weight forward and pressed my boot firmly into the groove carved into the flagstones. The ground was cool, solid, and unyielding. I am here. And I can move.