“Please,” she whispered.
He turned back.
“What’s wrong?”
Her fingers tightened around his arm.
“Please don’t go out there.”
The others exchanged confused looks.
One explorer assumed she feared another rockfall.
Another wondered whether the cave contained an unstable passage that they had failed to notice.
But Layan was not looking toward the entrance.
She was looking behind them.
Into a darker corridor near the bottom of the chamber.
Then the sound began.
Tap.
A pause.
Tap.
The unmistakable noise of wood striking stone.
Between the taps came footsteps.
Slow and deliberate.
Layan’s hands began to tremble.
And from the darkness, an elderly man appeared.
The Man With the Wooden Stick
The stranger was thin, with a deeply lined face and a beard streaked with gray.
He wore a loose, weathered garment and carried a wooden walking stick polished by years of use.
His clothes were simple but relatively clean.
