Claiming the High Ground

I slipped through the open terrace door onto the sunny balcony, quite done with being cooped up inside all day. Right ahead stood a tiered wrought-iron plant stand, practically begging for someone magnificent to scale it. I hoisted myself up rung by rung, digging my claws into the cool black metal until I reached the summit beside a shallow dish of river stones. A dry, shriveled leaf had the nerve to drift right onto my perch. 'Oh, you poor sweet thing, did you think this perch was yours?' I cooed softly—before flicking it off the edge with one sharp whip of my tail fin. Much better.