It is easy to walk past without a second glance, but the arrangement of its stones tells a quiet story of deliberate, practical construction by someone who knew this hillside well.

The structure measures roughly two metres east to west and just under two metres north to south, its walls built from dry-laid stone without mortar. Drystone construction is exactly what it sounds like: stones stacked and fitted against one another by weight and geometry alone, a technique used across Ireland from prehistory well into the post-medieval period for everything from field boundaries to temporary shelters. Here, the north wall is the best-preserved section, where flat stone slabs have been laid horizontally and survive to a height of around 0.7 metres. A gap on the eastern side may mark where an entrance once stood. Most telling of all is what was done at the north end of the interior: the ground was cut roughly 0.6 metres into the hillside itself, so that the floor could sit level despite the slope. It is a small but telling detail, the kind of adaptation that only makes sense if a person intended to use the space for some duration, whether for shelter during transhumance, the seasonal practice of moving livestock to upland grazing, or for some other purpose now impossible to recover. Scattered rubble inside and downslope to the south suggests the upper courses of the wall have long since tumbled.