Sounding the Chute

My boots navigated the loose shale below the cairn until the slope converged into a sheer rock chute. Before committing my descent down the crumbling scree, I pried a dense, palm-sized basalt disc from the frost-shattered verge. Anchoring the spiked ferrule of my staff into the bedrock to lock my stance, I drew back my clawed gauntlet and cast the stone down the narrow gulley. It clattered against the jagged limestone ribs in sharp, rhythmic cracks before rolling to a dead halt in a deep gravel shelf far below. The echoes rebounded across the gorge, confirming a stable floor. With the descent sounded and true, I pressed down the slope.