What survives is a corbelled clochan, the corbelling technique being one in which courses of stone are laid so that each slightly overhangs the one below, eventually closing to form a domed roof without mortar, and this example still stands to nearly two metres at its highest point. Somebody, at some point, divided the interior with a later wall, almost certainly to repurpose the space as a sheep-shelter, which is a fairly unremarkable fate for a building of this age but one that tells you something about the pragmatism of the people who inherited these landscapes.

The structure measures roughly 4.6 metres north to south and 4.2 metres east to west internally. Its lintelled entrance, a doorway topped with a flat stone rather than an arch, faces west and aligns with the entrance of the ringfort itself, a detail that suggests intentional planning rather than incidental placement. That westward orientation was apparently a point of confusion for earlier observers: the Ordnance Survey maps recorded the entrance as facing east, and the draughtsman and antiquarian George Victor Du Noyer gave it as north-east. The current reading holds that both were simply wrong, unless the relevant portions of wall were entirely rebuilt between their time and the modern survey, which seems unlikely. Along the southern interior wall, a small chamber projects outward, entered through an opening less than half a metre high at the base of the inner wall-face. The chamber is no longer accessible. Perhaps most intriguing is a description published by a writer named Chatterton in 1839, who gave a detailed account of an extensive souterrain, an underground stone-lined passage often associated with storage or refuge, opening off the wall directly opposite the entrance. Whether she was describing this precise site remains uncertain, but the stony platform on which the structure sits could plausibly conceal such a feature beneath it.