“That’s not a cave.”
I looked into the depression that was only partly covered by the sweet-smelling shrubbery. This whole place had burned badly last summer, you could tell. There were scorched tree-stumps poking out of the rapidly regrowing heather and thyme. But the place was still so tinder-dry that naked flames were completely banned that summer across the whole national park.
“Je t’ajure, elle est là!”
I jump in, feeling a bit of a dickhead. I’m sweating and uncomfortable in my caving oversuit and boots. A quick glance around and still I don’t see the entrance.
“Put your hand down there.”
I dangle my fingers where he pointed and I could feel the welcoming, cool exhalation from the cave.
“That’s it? Tell me you’re joking!”