A Firm Grip

Warmth settled into my joints. I planted my feet against the polished grain of the floorboards. Across from me stood a rigid, spiky opponent frozen mid-stride. I tested my weight, leaning forward into a steady stance. My right arm rose, knuckles clenching and unclenching until I reached out and tapped the hard shoulder of the figure before me. It did not strike back. I let out a low rumble, holding my ground, watching the quiet clearing.