Sumpter shook his head, the robe’s cowl moving just enough to show the straight black hair that fell to the nape of his neck. He took Ma-ah’s hand gently, so as not to frighten her, and ran her fingers lightly over the portions of the wall painting that she could reach. At first she recoiled with uneasy surprise. The oddest sensation began to spread through her fingertips; a tingling. Sumpter just watched, encouragingly.

Ma-ah was caught between wonder and distrust. The lines of the painted figure were giving off … sounds … that somehow rushed through her hands. Utterly engrossed, she ran her fingers over the broad areas, and these produced a different sensation. The colors had something to do with it, too. Green made long ripples in her flesh, and then long lingering sound-feelings.

The figure’s head and shoulders were too high for her to reach. Almost slyly, she sped around and touched Sumpter’s robe. It was soft, but no sounds went singing through her fingers. He laughed kindly enough, but she felt that he was making fun of her, or perhaps had even anticipated her motion, or one like it. Her eyes darkened sullenly.

Seeing her reaction, Sumpter touched her robe, the brown one they’d given her, and shook his head with a mischievous shrug as if to say, “See, yours doesn’t make any noise either.”

Her eyes cleared, but she watched him guardedly. She was under constant surveillance; but apparently she wasn’t being restrained. She could look at the cliff walls, or not, as she chose—he wasn’t forcing her to do so. No contest of wills was involved. Satisfied, she ran a few steps to the next drawing, a strange large bird squatting on the ground, with people coming out of its open mouth, or belly. She couldn’t tell which. The sunlight shone on the bird’s folded wings, and the people looked alarmingly alive. How could that be, if the bird swallowed them? And what bird was big enough to swallow whole people?

She glanced sideways at Sumpter. Such things were impossible. She knew what animals and birds were, even if she was ignorant about this hidden valley. So she shook her head and grimaced, then smiled broadly, pointing at the drawing, to show her disbelief.

Sumpter took her hand again and tried to run her fingers across the lines of the bird’s body, but she sprang back, frightened that the bird’s belly or mouth might suddenly close and swallow her hand, fingers and all.

Sumpter nodded soberly, as if respecting her fear. Then he fingered the painting himself. Only when he withdrew his hand, intact, did Ma-ah follow his example. At first she was very cautious. This could be a trick that she didn’t understand. But suddenly her face softened. She tipped her head. The sounds were joyful, filled with exaltation or satisfaction. She laughed up at Sumpter: the bird was singing.