Fracture Line

A jagged spire of weathered limestone drew my patrol to the garden rockery. I scaled the loose scree, claws finding grip in the rough fissures. Half-buried in dark soil rested a split quartz nodule, fractured along its spine. Weak rock crumbles under inspection; true mineral holds its ground. I drove the tip of my right claw straight into the narrow fissure. I braced my boots against the terrace ledge and wrenched outward with controlled leverage. The outer casing cracked with a crisp, flinty snap. The crust yielded, laying bare a raw cluster of jagged smoky crystals. Sharp edges. Flawless density. The mountain's heart lies exposed beneath my command.