A Slender Perch

The golden twist-tie gleamed tight around my scabbard. I inched further out along the tapering spruce twig, where the rough brown bark thinned into green needles. Ahead, suspended right at the branch tip, a small dried pinecone scale swung like a tiny wooden swing. Too delicate to rush. I dropped my center low, bracing one boot on the rough wood while tapping the scales with my blade. It held. Shifting my weight across the divide, I settled into the fragrant green crook. From here, the garden fence drops away completely, leaving an unobstructed path to the open yard.