Breaching the Turf

Left the zinc barricade behind. Gravel yielded to wild turf. Tough sod choked with tangled roots. Ahead lay an obstacle—a heavy red clay paver, buried deep in the dirt like a sunken bastion. Barred my line of march. Did not detour. Dropped low. Jammed broadsword blade square beneath the mossy brick lip. Dug heels deep into coarse soil. Hauled backward with locked shoulders. Earth cracked. Fibrous roots snapped like sinew. The heavy stone slab ripped free from the pit, crashing flat across the weeds. Ground leveled. Path into the open yard is won.