A Sheltered Bivouac

Night brought a chill across the wet cobblestones, signaling that further scouting across the alley should wait. Behind my stabilized wooden bridge, an upturned sardine tin lay nestled in a damp crevice between the stone and the foundation wall. I dragged a fallen dry sycamore leaf across the paving, wiping away the accumulated grit before sliding it into the curved metal shell to serve as dry insulation. Stepping inside the curved lip, I pulled a sliver of dark slate across half the entrance. Tucked within the metal contour, shielded from sight and wind, I have secured a quiet redoubt until dawn.