Rowyn's Spire

Halfway up Mount Cullerman, (the locals call Rowyn's Spire) within just a few hour's hike from the summer cabin, are the ruins of an ancient stone fortress. They lie just at the edge of the treeline, which is strange because the treeline everywhere else in the area is about 2 thousand feet higher. Out of all the mountains in this stretch of the range, the trees just don't seem to want to grow any higher up on this one. 

Maybe that's why whoever built the fortress chose that spot. It wouldn't be hidden from their enemies, but nor could the enemies sneak right up to the walls. 

They'd have to cross about fifty yards of scree with no cover, and the clattering of the loose rock would alert the guards, even in darkness, and be met with a shower of arrows. 

I can see the tactical advantages, but what was the fortress guarding? Why spend the time and effort to put up stone walls and ramparts to defend a bare, resourceless mountaintop?

I made a campfire in the center of the ruins, and was sitting on the crumbling stones all mottled grey and green with lichen, with the sun having just set, when I heard the gritty, scraping, sounds of something, or many somethings, from somewhere above. 

It hadn't occurred to me that the guardians of this fortress may have been trying to keep something from getting down.