Soon afterwards, you emerge into a large cavern, its floor covered in gritty sand. Judging by the breeze on your face, there are several openings besides the one you entered through. There is a momentary feeling of relief at being able to stand upright again and feel the air less chokingly close around you. Simon flicks on his flashlight, then gasps in amazement.
"Look!"
You look in the direction of the beam of light. The walls are covered in brown-red paintings. The images are crude, little more than stick figures, and yet somehow they have an astonishing vitality and energy to them. In the light from Simon's flashlight, they look as though they might leap off the walls.
There are pictures of towering Irish elk and humans hunting them with spears and bows and arrows, and others of people planting and sowing or tending to cattle.
"Extraordinary," Simon murmurs. "I think this cave was a sacred place, a shrine. If it's as old as the standing stones, it must be thousands and thousands of years old. Or even older."
"This is incredible!" I stare at the paintings in awe.
I am too concerned about the noise I heard earlier to pay full attention to the paintings. Instead, I look about, trying to see if I can determine the source of the sound anywhere.
"Can these be real?" If so, this discovery might make us famous.
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