Shelter in the Conduit

Night settled quickly across the lower slate floor, pooling deep shadows along the masonry base. I grounded the butt of my rifle into the dry channel silt and studied the footing. Two paces from where my descent cord hung plumb, a curved shard of white glazed porcelain sat wedged at an angle against the foundation stone, forming a narrow, sheltered lean-to. I tapped the ceramic with the muzzle of my weapon; it held solid without rocking. Inside the hollow, the air was entirely still, shielded from the channel draft. Settling my travel pack into the alcove, I sat with my back against the cold slate, keeping watch over the dangling cord.