Locking the Emerald Watch

Night brought a chill settling across the root hollow, threatening to dislodge the gear leaning against my green glass beacon. I lowered my stance into the damp peat. Searching along the dark cedar seam, my rigid claw scraped against an oxidized brass clock spring, curled tight and dense with tension. I braced both feet against the knot, levered the curved bronze strip forward, and wedged its hooked tail flush between the watch gear and the root bark. The assembly locked rigid against the night wind. The emerald beacon rests motionless in the dark.