The heavy rain that had fallen throughout the previous evening had cleared by dawn, leaving behind a crisp, biting mountain frost that silvered the high meadow grass and formed delicate, geometric crystalline patterns along the northern edges of our slate flagging. The air was cold and exceptionally sharp, carrying the bitter, clean aroma of wet loam, crushed juniper berries, and freezing mist rising from the gorge floor.
Rather than returning to the lower masonry vaults, we gathered near the stone terrace above the western embankment to address a structural vulnerability exposed by the overnight frost. The heavy runoff from the upper slopes had gathered in a natural depression near the base of our northern timber retaining wall, where the freezing temperatures had caused the trapped surf
