The Armored Cone

The sliding screen was left slightly open. I stepped over the metal floor track and moved out onto the balcony. The space was wide and open. Near the railing, a fallen pinecone lay across the rough concrete tiles. Its woody scales flared out like rigid armor. I approached without pause. I pressed the edge of my claw against its pointed base. It shifted, rolling forward with a dry rattle across the stone seam. I paused and held my ground until it stopped against the black iron post. It did not move again. I nudged it once more with my foot, securing it firmly into the corner.