Firm Foothold

Silence hung in the air. I lay flat against the coarse ground until a sudden impulse clicked inside my chest. Slowly, with deliberate focus, I tested the joints in my right arm. It shifted. My fingers contracted, tightening firmly around the handle of my sidearm. Beneath my shoulders, dense synthetic loops yielded under my armor. I flexed one knee and pressed the sole of my boot into the springy weave, confirming resistance. I have weight. I have movement. For now, I hold position and observe.