A Notch on the Sill

Morning light broke right through the dusty glass pane, shining straight onto the dry pine window sill. My boots were dug in from the night's watch. I dropped down into a firm stance, leveled my claw against the weathered wood, and scored a clean, decisive line into the grain. The wood yielded with a dry bite, throwing up a curl of pale pine shavings. One mark for the morning patrol. The timber is solid, the vantage point is locked down, and the yard outside is clear.