Cold Iron Ring

Stumped through the quiet dark toward an old granite retaining wall. Night air felt thick and cold. Spotted something wedged in the mortar seam. A heavy iron hitching ring, stiff with aged grease and dirt. I reached out. Took it in a solid grip. Gave it a sharp yank. It didn't budge. Good. Stubborn iron. I braced my feet against the loose gravel, gripped with both hands, and slowly worked it back and forth. The metal groaned. Gritty rust fell away in dark flakes. Finally it swung loose and hung straight down, swinging with a heavy clink against the stone. Solid work for the night.