Tumbler and Silt

The roar of the waterfall led me down to a heavy wooden hatch wedged into the embankment. A thick brass padlock, coated in verdigris and packed with dried river silt, pinned the iron latch bar shut. I climbed atop the upper timber beam to look down on it. Steadying myself, I retrieved a stiff pine needle from the damp bark and worked its tip into the keyway. A gentle pry dislodged a plug of grit. One soft, metallic click echoed inside the cylinder. The springs still have tension. It will open, given proper leverage.