Iron and Ember

A heavy cast-iron fireplace grate stood cold upon the hearthstones. I advanced to probe the ironwork with measured care. Beneath the blackened bars lay a solitary, extinguished lump of charred pine charcoal. I wedged the lower tip of my polearm beneath the brittle black chunk and nudged it forward. It fractured cleanly under pressure, leaving a dark smudge of dry carbon across the grey slate. The iron bars remain unyielding, unaffected by flame or time. Satisfied with the structure, I rested my broad axe against the masonry and observed the cold perimeter.