The Cave

 

They approached the cave with caution, Alpen in the lead. Fallon led up the rear, alert to any threats. Alpen raised his hand to signal a stop, then crept forward. Fallon saw a lump of shadow on the ground below the cave. As Alpen drew closer, he paused, then raised and lowered his arm, palm down. The lump was not a threat.

It was likely that an animal had occupied the cave. It was easily defended, accessible to the forest and to the beach. Hunting animals were crepuscular, active at night when their prey came out to feed under the cover of darkness. It was already past sunset so Fallon was especially vigilant to an animal returning to the cave with a kill. Alithea knelt on the sandy soil with Erthen gathered in her arms. He looked to Fallon who put a finger to his lips for silence. Growing up on this journey, Erthen had learned the ways of hunting. Erthen turned back to look at Alpen, who shimmied up the rock to the cave.

Alpen threw a small rock into the cave and waited. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light but he could not see into the pitch darkness of the cave. After a moment, he slunk toward the mouth of the cave, then waited again. He made the cooing sound of a burble bird, not knowing if there were any of the birds this close to the ocean. He waited again but no sound, not the low gruff of wolfbear or the high keening whimper of a young one left in the den.

Fire. They needed fire. At the sound of a tik-tik bird behind him, he turned. Bebe waved some brush in the air. Alpen remembered the flint he had left behind in his pack when they were captured here months ago. It might be close but it lay in the darkness of the cave. Bebe crept forward with the bush, then handed it up to Alpen on the ledge above at the mouth of the cave. She made a hissing sound and when he turned to her, she threw up a stone. He missed it and it clattered on the rock. From inside the cave came a rustle and a flash of shadow darted out of the cave and into the air. Bebe suppressed a nervous laugh at the sight of the small bird.

Alpen picked up the rock and cocked his arm as he called into the cave. Silence. Drindl came forward, striking two stones several times but without a spark. Alpen closed his eyes, then opened them again to adjust to the darkness. He recognized the form of the travois and the disheveled form of their gear. As he pulled it toward him, he listened for animal sounds above the scraping of the travois on the rock floor. He backed out of the cave with the travois. In the light below the open night sky, he could make out his hunting knife and flint bag.

“Bebe?” He called out in a hoarse whisper.

“Below you,” she said.

“I found our gear. I’ve got the flint bag,” Alpen said. A few scrapes and a spark, then a flame on the bush kindling. No growl from the cave. He held up the sheaf of fire, cinders flying off in the evening breeze. “Bebe,” he called. “Let’s get a fire going. Tell the others we’re home.”