When we had come far enough for me to look down over the flint vale, I noticed that an errant beam of sunlight illuminated a green meadow in a distant ravine. But the sunlight shifted and the meadow vanished so swiftly into shadow that I wondered if I had imagined it. The sky in the east was dark and behind us the red dusk that had suffused the sky had faded, when, to my delight, I spotted the mouth of a cave just above the ledge path. It was little more than a large hole with its low roof and dank, mineral smell, but I was very grateful not to have to spend another night perched precariously on the narrow ledge that skirted the precipice. Having shelter also meant I could finally light a fire and cook something hot.

I used some of the branches I had collected to light a fire in the entrance to the cave, taking advantage of the last of the fading light, for it would be impossible to start a fire in the dark. Luckily the light, dry twigs at the ends of the branches caught quickly. Once the fire was burning, I used the whole of one of my water gourds to make a soup using the few herbs I had found the day before in the stone folds, and two of the savoury packets of travel biscuits to give it some substance, wishing I had a few proper ingredients – a potato or an onion or some mushrooms. When the soup began to bubble in its pot, the scent of it made my stomach growl so loudly that Darga tilted his head and looked askance at me. This struck me as funny, but when I laughed, the sound seemed so loud flying out over the flames into the vast dark silence of the mountains that I fell instantly silent, imagining how it would echo over the flint vale and wondering what beasts might lift their heads to wonder at the sound.

Soberly, I ate my share of the thick soup directly from the pot, regretting that I had forgotten to pack the little pouch of salt and herbs I had always carried with me on expeditions. Once again Maruman disdained his share when I offered it, and slipped away into the night, no doubt to hunt his own food, but Darga ate hungrily. I had used so much water preparing the meal, only after asking Darga if he could smell clean water nearby. Since we had passed a number of small rivulets trickling down the mountain face, not to mention the waterfall, I had not been surprised when he assured me that he could smell clean water further along the ledge path.