It is a cist, a type of prehistoric burial chamber made from slabs of stone arranged to form a tight rectangular cell, typically used to hold a crouched inhumation or cremated remains. This one measures just fifty centimetres long, twenty-five wide, and thirty deep internally, roughly the size of a shoebox. No human remains were found within it, no artefacts, no capstone to seal it from above. Only humus mixed with small stone fragments and pebbles filled the space where a body might once have lain, or perhaps never did.

The cist came to light in 1971, not through careful excavation but through bulldozing during quarrying work on what appears to have been a cairn, a mound of stones often raised over prehistoric burials. That disturbance revealed not one grave but five cists in total, grouped together on the northern end of a north-south ridge with open views across the surrounding landscape. The particular cist recorded as Grave 5, positioned south of the group's first grave, is among the most ambiguous of the cluster. Scholars Prendergast and Ryan, writing in 2011, catalogued it within a broader study of the site, and the detailed dimensions and fill description draw on the work of Cahill and Sikora, also published that year. Whether the absence of remains reflects the original burial practice, subsequent disturbance, soil chemistry that dissolved any organic material over millennia, or something else entirely, the record does not say.