The sound of wing beats filled the corridor. A chaotic black shape sped toward us, covering and uncovering the caged lights as it flew. In a burst of flapping wings, a crow alighted on the floor of the corridor, just short of where the cricket walked ahead of us. The crow spread its wings low along the floor. The bright red cricket took hold of a wingtip with its tiny feet, and crawled to the crown of the crow’s head. The crow took off in a deafening chaos of wing beats, and vanished down the corridor.
“Follow them!” I cried.
Just as we had been impelled by the cricket’s song to run up the side of the mountain through inky blackness…now we rushed headlong down the corridor, the lights racing past our eyes, blurring into a bright stream. Our speed transcended human speed; the tempo of our feet on the concrete became so light and rapid we felt that we could have flown.