First Pulse
Stiff joints. Locked tight. Then... a crackle. My heavy claws twitch. The glass behind me is cold, but the shelf beneath holds solid. Right in front rests a rough, dense stone. Heavy mass. Good. I lean forward, planting one clawed foot down, and strike my knuckles against its mineral crust. *Thud.* A deep, dull resonance travels up my arm. Solid foundation. I am awake.