The Cave

She's hiking through a part of the land she hasn't explored yet. Thankful for the tight patchwork quilt of hills that lead to creeks that help find her way back if she gets turned around. Getting lost is almost guaranteed, there's so many wild things around to light up her curiosity and pull her in. Over time she learned she enjoys her hikes way more when navigation can be managed by a general sense of elevation and timing without having to stress about the details.

The thought collides with a memory of mountain ranges off in the distance. How reassuring they were as that anchor. Knowing she could find where she needed to go as long as she could see them. They just said, West.

She wonders what they'd say now if she sat still enough to listen.

She hears a noise on the other side of the next hill. She has a few hours left of daylight and hasn't gone so far that she can't get somewhere familiar in the dark. So she heads over, tickling that sense of curiosity. The whole point of the hike. Maybe half the point. Call it a third. Definitely a third. She loves how a third of something represented in digits is an infinite series of threes.

There's something innately satisfying about three. Even before someone told her about life path numbers and she did the math. Three seems to hold some kind of universal fascination, across all of what she's learned about the people that came before. So many different religions with deities that exist as a triple. The fates, the norns, the morrigan, the holy trinity, the trimurti. Probably some other ones that aren't coming to mind. There's triple threats, there's third times a charm, there's the three primary colors. Trifecta. Trio. Triplet. Trimester.

She notices the sound again. It's definitely closer, and not coming from up in the trees. Seems to be coming from back across the hill. No, inside the hill. It's a little clearer now too she can make out... Is that a woman screaming? Definitely sounds human, and intense. Shit.

She looks around for any other clues and spots a pile of rocks crumbling around a dark hole. She moves closer and hears the sound again. Sharper now, coming from the cracks in the rubble. That's definitely a woman, sounds like she's yelling. Shit.

She starts working on the rocks, scattering the smaller ones with her arms, rolling away the larger ones until there's just a few left. But they're huge, easily a ton. Doing the mental math, that's.. definitely more than 10 times her weight. She can't help it, she thinks a little more about it and realizes a ton is 13.33333333 times her roughly estimated weight. There's those threes again, that's so neat. She wonders why some fractions can't be reconciled and are forced to continue endlessly.

Another shout from further in. She can't quite make out any words.. But she needs to move at least one of these damn things to get anywhere. She notices the tallest one is tilted towards her a little bit. She digs the ground in front of it out while standing off to the side just in case she's that lucky. Nope. She takes her jacket off and twists it into something almost resembling a rope and hooks it around the top of the stone. Damn it she's not tall enough to pull high enough to get it to tip over. Plus it would probably just fall on her face.

More shouts. Screams? Shit.

She climbs up to the top of the entrance, braces her back and arms against the hill with her feet up against the rock and pushes. It gives with a satisfying thud she would have felt in her chest If she hadn't been distracted by suddenly needing to land without breaking anything. She wipes the leaves and dirt off and sees her jacket half pinned underneath the fallen stone. Damn it.

There's a slight movement of air coming from the newly opened space. It's a narrow tunnel, and dark. But spacious enough to walk through. Another yell from further in. It sounds desperate. Fuck.

She carefully moves further into the dark, letting her eyes adjust as much as they can. It opens up into... Do cave parts have names the same way houses do? It opens up into a parlor. She hears something moving, accompanied by a low threatening rumble. She goes very still and fights back the panic to stay calm and steady.

She offers what she hopes sounds like a reassuring greeting. The rumble intensifies, but isn't joined by other voices. Besides the background shrieking, that seems to have picked up the pace. She carefully moves towards the sound while doing her best to communicate with the rumbling knee height entity what she's doing and what her intentions are. Knowing damn well the thing doesn't speak this language. But it doesn't move closer and it doesn't get louder so she keeps moving.

There's a light further up ahead, coming from.. another hallway? It's dim, not flickering like a flame but steady like a lamp. Almost cozy. She moves towards it. The yelling has stopped. She rounds the corner to where the light is coming from.

And her brain flips upside down. It's a bedroom. Well, a cave bedroom. But clearly lived in. There's a woman sitting on the side of a long flat slab of stone covered in stitched together furs.

They stare at each other. Flabbergasted. The woman looks confused, offended, startled, defensive, affronted. Bothered. Flushed. Flushed? The hiker looks like she's trying to remember what she had for breakfast on a specific Tuesday 3 years ago while trying to solve a Rubik's cube behind her back. They both seem to realize the woman's clothes at the same time. Really, the absence of them.

The silence breaks while the woman grabs a long shirt and puts it on while asking who the fuck are you? And before the hiker could respond she asks how the fuck did you get in here, what the fuck are you doing in here? Why are you here?

She has no idea how to start answering all that. She just says, I thought I heard someone yelling for help... The realization and embarrassment of the misunderstanding dances across her face and the woman replies. Well, I wasn't. I definitely didn't need anyone's help, and I don't want any company. I need you to leave. How did you get in here?

I moved the pile of rocks blocking the entrance, how did you get in here?

The woman pauses to get a better look at this messy stranger that just barged into her home she previously thought was untouchable. She says mind your business, but there's no edge to it. Suddenly her voice goes sharp when she asks, where's Bastille?

Who? Oh, he's in the parlor still. I don't think he likes me though, is there another way out of here?

The woman stares, with a look on her face that almost seems familiar. But that doesn't make any sense, the hiker has never seen anyone look at her that way. She says, no I'll walk you out. I'm going to have to fix the front door anyway.