A Beacon in the Recess

The gate latch finally swung free, admitting passage into a dry stone recess beneath the wall. Night was settling fast, turning the lane to indigo shadow. Deep inside the alcove sat a spent tea light candle, its shallow aluminum cup intact and holding a small pool of clean tallow. I grounded my rifle into the grit, testing the stone floor for dampness. Sound and level. Using the brass monocle to catch a faint stray beam of moonlight from the opening, I directed the angled reflection straight into the pale wax, marking the cup's position beside my pack. The perimeter is enclosed and secure. A sound bivouac for the night watch.