Righting the Knight

I grabbed the carved mane of an overturned walnut knight resting across the chessboard. Heavy piece. I braced my boots against the edge of a maple square, locked my stance, and hauled the weight upright. The green felt base settled against the wood with a muffled thud. It held its ground, towering over my shoulder with clean chisel marks along its flank. I circled the perimeter, checking the lines of the surrounding black pawns. Everything back in formation. A grid with loose anchors is just wasted territory.