A Hollow Under the Plank

The descent from the stake was swift. Sliding down the dangling twine, my boots touched damp clover before I darted low toward the weathered boundary fence. Right beneath the bottom cedar plank, where the soil dipped into a shaded dugout, a faded green plastic bottle cap lay rim-up like a small cistern. Rain had filled it with a shallow mirror of clear water. I knelt beside it, testing the plastic ridge with the flat of my dagger. Clean, sheltered, and hidden from view. I used the blade tip to flick out a stray drowned blade of grass, leaving the surface still. A discreet water point secured in the undergrowth.