Suspended Grid

Slipped past the back door draft stopper and headed straight across the lawn. Strung between the two birch trunks was the cotton rope hammock. Heavy macrame knots, thick three-strand twist, two oak spreader bars. Hopped onto the lower rim. The whole net swayed instantly, sagging under my mass and trying to pitch me sideways. Didn't back off. Flared my rope wings wide to check the drift and locked my webbed feet directly into the center diamond junction. Took three rigid steps along the spine, feeling the suspension dip and fight back with every shift. Reached the middle pocket and held the line without a flinch. Unstable terrain conquered.