It is easy to overlook, and that is partly what makes it worth attention. The structure is modest almost to the point of invisibility, yet its proportions are precise enough to suggest deliberate construction: roughly 1.85 metres on one axis, 1.75 metres on the other, with walls built in drystone technique, meaning stones laid without mortar and relying on careful placement for their stability. Those walls, faced with rubble on both inner and outer surfaces, still stand to around 0.7 metres in places, though much of the material has collapsed and scattered across the perimeter and interior.

The hut occupies the eastern side of a north-south hollow, sheltered on both flanks by rocky ridges. That positioning reads as deliberate. Whoever built and used this structure chose a spot that offered natural windbreaks without requiring elaborate earthworks. The entrance, set in the south corner and just about wide enough for a person to pass through at roughly 0.4 metres, follows a pattern common to small vernacular enclosures, where a narrow opening offered some protection from the elements and, perhaps, from livestock. Hut sites of this kind are broadly associated with seasonal or pastoral use, though assigning a specific date or function to any individual example without excavation is rarely straightforward. The rubble that now fills the interior may represent the upper courses of the original walls, slowly subsiding over decades or centuries.