"Same lines, I tested it. Hammer, pickaxe, chisel, shovel— even itself. Of course, you've got to hit it with the appropriate amount of force for it to break. Dropping it doesn't do any good, either. It makes me wonder if anyone's bothered keeping track of this stuff. In writing or— anything. I haven't done my due diligence in the library— so maybe they have. We mine for coal and metal and leave this stuff behind. Maybe it could be used for something."

Really, she ought to take the time off to get some reading done.

Ripley plucks up the granite chunk, observing it against afternoon light. Grooves run in perfect lines beneath its surface. "Or maybe they're leaving it alone for good reason. Could all be junk. Could be dangerous. Not this one, but others."

She sets it down. Wraps fingers around something solid, dense— this time a rust-colored piece of stone—

"There are channels under Crane's Ridge barred from access. No one knows what's hiding there. And if they do, they don't say shit about it."

—And with force, smashes it down against the granite slab. One piece turns into a perfect twin-pair.

Ripley quirks a grin. "See?"