The child had stopped crying by the time the men reached the cave mouth. The sound had carried down the slope for nearly an hour, thin and high, then cut off all at once. Torches burned low in the damp air. The entrance was low, little more than a crack between two limestone faces, and the ground in front of it was soft with last night’s rain. They found the first body just inside the lip, a woman from the lower village, throat opened, both arms drawn back and broken at the elbows.
The flesh of one forearm had been stripped clean to the bone. Footprints around her were small, no larger than a child’s, but deeper than they should have been. They led inward, overlapping, many of them. The men went in single file. The passage narrowed, then opened into a chamber where the ceiling hung low enough that they had to stoop. Water dripped somewhere beyond the reach of the light. The smell was thick. Meat left in a closed place, mixed with the wet mineral scent of the rock.
One of the men raised his torch higher. Shapes moved against the far wall, low to the ground, too many to count at once. They were small, none of them stood higher than a man’s hip. Long dark hair hung over their faces and stuck to their arms and backs. The eyes caught the torchlight and reflected it back, large and flat. One of them held something against its chest. The thing was still. A child’s foot, pale and small, protruded from the grip.
The creature’s mouth was open. Blood ran from the corners and down its chin. The nearest man fired. The shot struck the creature in the chest and drove it backward into the others. It did not drop what it held. The rest moved at once. They came low and fast across the uneven floor, hands and feet finding purchase where the men could not. One of them reached the first torchbearer and climbed his leg, teeth closed on the inside of the thigh.
The man went down. The torch fell and rolled. In the shifting light the others saw more of them, emerging from side passages no wider than a man’s shoulders. A second shot went high and struck the ceiling. Stone chips fell. The creatures kept coming. One of them seized a man’s wrist and pulled. The grip was stronger than the size suggested. Bone cracked. The man screamed and swung the empty rifle. The stock struck, and the creature released him only long enough to bite the hand that had hit it.
Fingers came away. The man staggered back toward the entrance. Something caught his ankle from behind and he went down again. The remaining men turned and ran. The passage was tight. One of them slipped on the wet rock and did not get up. The others kept moving. Behind them the sounds continued, short, wet, and close together. No one looked back. When they reached the open air the crying had not returned. The cave mouth stayed dark. The torches they had left inside burned for a while longer, then went out one by one.
