It is not a wall, not quite a cairn, and not a simple enclosure. Six slabs radiate outward from a low circular bank at irregular intervals, like spokes on a wheel that was never finished or perhaps never meant to be. The bank itself is penannular, meaning it forms an almost-complete ring with a deliberate gap, and the whole thing encloses a circular space just over seven metres across. More stones are just visible along the crest of the bank and around its outer edge, suggesting that what survives above ground is only part of the original arrangement.

The structure belongs to a category that archaeology labels, with refreshing honesty, a radial-stone enclosure, a type whose purpose remains genuinely unclear. The builders levelled up the northern side of the bank by an additional sixty centimetres to compensate for the south-westward slope of the hillside, which points to careful, deliberate construction rather than casual clearance. That kind of effort, taken to keep a roughly seven-metre circle horizontal on an awkward gradient, implies the shape and level of the interior mattered to whoever made it. Whether it served a ceremonial function, an agricultural one, or something else entirely, the site sits quietly on Gouladane without offering an easy answer.