Knock knock

We reached the middle of the mountain and we had to rest. I blew my whistle and they all looked at me. Whistling is our language when going up and down the mountain, when hunting, when in danger, when inviting someone to a feast, announcing the arrival of a new child or mourning a lost person. I pointed to a flat area with a hollow inside that looked like a cave. We all headed towards it. It was i...