Winter Trek, Cholomontas Forest

Six hours into the northern face and the forest had changed completely — the oak gave way to something older, and the ground was covered in timber that had been falling for decades. Not rot. Seasoning. There is a difference you learn to read quickly: rot smells of damp and collapses underfoot, seasoned wood rings when you knock it and holds its weight.

We found the chair piece wedged between two limestone outcrops at roughly 900 metres. The Inventor spotted it from thirty metres away and didn't say anything, just changed direction. That is how it usually goes. No announcement. Just a quiet correction of course that tells you everything.

Getting it down took the rest of the afternoon. The ascent had been straightforward enough but the descent with weight is a different problem entirely — balance, grip, the way a load shifts when the ground changes angle. We reached the treeline as the light went flat and grey, the kind of light that makes everything look like it was always going to end up exactly where it is.

The piece is now in the workshop. The Inventor has not touched it yet. Sometimes they sit for weeks before anything happens.