Iron Grate Strike

I bounded down from the console table, cleared the hallway, and marched straight down the concrete stairs into the courtyard. A heavy cast-iron storm drain grate barred my path, set flush into the flagstones. No turning aside. I lunged forward, locking both talons over the cold, ridged iron bars. Directly beneath my feet, wedged tight in the rusted slot, sat a dried acorn cap holding a round quartz pebble. Target verified. I lowered my head and struck the trapped stone with full force—crack! The pebble bounced free, clinking sharply against the metal before rolling onto the sunlit stone. I puffed my chest wide and held the iron ridge.