They're called Rifle Pits, others insist they'd been built by the Cherokee, even De Soto was suspect. Stones stacked in circles. Oddly, only four circles and none found elsewhere. Why would Rebel Soldiers build here when the Union Troops were further east. And, there were plenty of boulders to hid and shoot from behind. Then there are the breastwork, walls coming from and going to .... nowhere.
Cool stones penetrated the thin cotton blouse. Leaning back, watched the sunlight leave a mottled patterns across the litter of dried leaves. The smells of summer are sweet. Finnegan, the green eyed gray tabby, patted at a black beetle waiting for the attempted escape. Harmonious insect humming filled the woods. How easy to drift 100 years before today and be lost in the remembering. They curled up together, the girl and the cat, lazy eyes slidding shut.
Dreams of painted warriors, soldiers in blue, others grey danced through the shifting fog. The afternoon slipped aimlessly away. A crunching sound in the leaves roused them. Scratching the cat's ear he said, "Scoot over sister girl for your tired father." Stretching she asked,"Did you find out when?""Oh, sweetie, the wall was built long ago. But, LOOK what I found!"