It's hard to tell when dawn will break as there are no birds to warn us. For a split second I indulge in missing the early morning calls of birds; but then Jim points to a rock just ahead of us. Part of it is lighter, indicating shadows and the shifting of the night sky.
The birds are quickly forgotten.
I point in the direction of the cave, hoping that is also what Jim has in mind. We have the advantage of the current being busier, so our footsteps will be muffled. I start to slowly do squats to waken my legs which are fast asleep. It takes a few moments for the blood to surge back into them and I use all my will not to writhe in agony as my knees, then ankles, then toes slowly wake.
We only have the darkness to cover us for a little while longer. We must move now. I take the first step as I am in front and wait to see if any of the leaves that surround us rustle. They don't. I take another step and another as my feet fidget and slip on the unstable rocks in this particular part of the brook.
I'm grateful that the rubber on the soles of my shoes offers some traction. I'm not sure if Jim's work boots offer the same stability. I allow him to balance himself by putting one hand on my shoulder as we slink every so stealthily along the edge of the brook making sure to edge our steps away from the lighter side of the rock.
When we reach the other side, I take a second to collect my bearings and try my best to pin point exactly where the cave is. It's difficult from this direction as I was on the other side of the brook before meeting up with Jim, but I believe that it should be just on the other side of a giant boulder that lays just ahead of us.
As we walk, I begin to wonder if the water has masked our scent, but before I have a chance to reach a conclusion I notice an overflow on the edge of the river -- as if something of significant weight has dispersed it.
Both Jim and I freeze -- mere meters from where I believe the cave is. The horizon has begun to have a hint of indigo; and my visibility has increased. I stand there naked and vulnerable waiting to see what is now crossing the river.
Jim motions for us to try and crouch in the deeper shadows near the base of the boulder, and so I quietly kneel -- trying desperately to survey the bank where I fear our visitor may exit. As we crouch there, the water begins to lap. Once. Then twice.
My heart sinks.
I can't breathe.
My eyes widen with fear as the laps crescendo, indicating the crossing of more than one being. The edge of the brook rises and falls with each entrant; and so I brace myself for an encounter that is certain to end in mutilation and death -- for one or both of us.
And as the laps indicate the presence of a small gang, I reach out my hand to Jim who is trying his best to stay brave. This is the only source of comfort I can offer, as the water levels rise and fall with great agitation; screaming to both of us that our time has come.
