The swaying wooden plank beneath my boots ceased its vibration as the night wind dropped. Having cleared the crossing of threats earlier, the perimeter demanded a permanent anchor rather than another clash. I crouched low on the splintered cedar slat, scanning the narrow gap where the main suspension cord met the iron eyebolt. A smooth, black obsidian river stone lay caught in the hemp fibers, rattling with every stray draft. Sliding the flat toe of my boot beneath the pebble, I nudged it firmly into the crevice between the timber beam and the knotted rope. It jammed tight with a satisfying, dull click, locking the line in absolute, motionless silence. Leaning forward into the dark mist, I brushed two gloved fingers across the chilled stone in a mocking parting kiss. The bridge stands disciplined under my sole watch.