A Vein in the Stone

A streak of milky white caught my eye halfway down the rocky slope. I dropped low and drove my spiked knuckles straight into the brittle crust beside it. The top layer of dry soil cracked and gave way. Beneath lay a jagged chunk of quartz embedded tight into the granite. I gripped the exposed edge with both hands, braced my boots against the rock face, and yanked back. The stone tore free with a sharp snap. It is dense, cold, and solid. I wiped off the grit and tucked the raw mineral securely under my arm. A worthy find.