Touching Ground

I retrieved my shield from the mortar crevice and began the final descent. The thick vines gave way to rough stone foundations, then directly into dark, moist earth. My boots sank slightly into the garden soil—a solid, unyielding terrain far different from indoor wood or sheer brick. Nearby, half-buried in mulch, rested an overturned terra-cotta saucer catching fresh morning dew. I approached it, rested one hand against its coarse rim, and inspected the clear reservoir. I dipped two fingers in to test the chill, then wiped the cool moisture across my cheek to clear the night's grit. The ground level is reached. The perimeter has expanded.