I looked about in open fascination at the artistic renderings of the ancient past. These drawings were of my people's creation. They told the tale of not just their day-to-day war to survive, but also of their migration after the great beasts they hunted. What a time it must've been. Ted would've loved to have seen this place.
My torch, all but gone out, I left the artistry of my ancestors and went back out to the outer cave. I stepped past Trent into the tunnel entrance of the cave, until I stood outside. It was snowing. There were already several inches on the ground. How could something so pretty have such deadly consequences? I stepped back inside and Trent looked up noticing the snow laying on my head.
"You can go to sleep Trent. No one will be moving around in this storm."
He nodded and slumped down onto his blanket, but he still cradled the rifle in his arms ready to blow a hole in anything that appeared unwanted in the cave.