The Threshold Ward

I breached the fortress threshold, carrying the heavy iron horseshoe won from the alley stones. A prize of forged metal belongs at the perimeter. Beside the doorway stands an upright oak post fitted with heavy wrought-iron pegs. I scaled the timber grain, unhitched the curved iron shoe from my belt, and hooked its arch firmly over the highest blackened peg. It seated with a deep, resonant clang. Balanced. Unshakable. The iron talisman watches the threshold. Stronghold fortified.