The weaverbird flew from the cavern. The ears of the fox and the wolf and the bobcat lay flat against their heads. Doe did not understand the tension but surrendered to it, pacing in the red light and the smoke while being careful not to trip on the pile of gold. No one spoke.
The tiny brown bird returned after an agony of waiting, no way to judge how long it had been. Doe thought it brought with it a large black shadow of itself, but this turned out to be a starling. "Fire in the northwest," the starling said.
"Come on," Loomahk said to Doe as the temple became all activity. "You wanted to know about our religion? You can assist at our greatest ritual." He knelt on the floor, reminding Doe of the motions of the worshippers during their chant. She did not understand there was something he wanted her to do. "Come on, Doe," Loomahk repeated, and this time she got it. She used to do this all the time, as a child, running with the young wolf through all the wild forest, but she would never have dared ask for the privilege again. She climbed up on his back and lashed her arms round his neck tightly. He started up a slope of earth on the far side of the cavern, opposite where they'd come in.
At the top there was not even enough room for him to stand up straight and there were roots brushing against Doe's face. The dome of the cavern was all rock save for this one spot of bare earth. Doe tried to think how many times she must have passed this place while wandering the forest above, how close she'd come to creating a sinkhole with one unwitting step. But perhaps the dirt was packed too tight for this. "Push," Loomahk said. He turned a little to one side and pressed his shoulder against the ceiling. Doe let go of his neck but gripped harder with her knees to stay on as she pushed. The whole patch lifted out easily with a satisfying ripping sound as the roots on the edges were pulled from the surrounding soil. They had to scramble to balance their plate of earth and gain solid footing on the surface, where all was dark and cold and wet. Doe held the entrance open for Fah-Ree and the bobcat before tamping it back into the ground, where it showed no signs of its purpose.
The bobcat and the fox had brought sticks with them from out of the temple. Loomahk and Doe both got one--Loomahk let Doe hold his. Doe smelled the scent of a winter fireplace and knew she was holding pine branches. The weaverbird and the starling, who'd flown out ahead of them through the other exit, now hurried the group toward a dancing light in the distance. Everything was either that small brightness or blinding dark. Doe saw very little but heard scuttling all around them, far more than the usual nighttime forest sounds, and had a sense many creatures were rushing away from what they were running toward.
Lightning had apparently struck a tall tree, setting it on fire and sending it crashing to the ground. Flames licked out from the corpse, but they could not go very far--the rainstorm had soaked the brush.
"New fire," Loomahk said. His voice was hushed, reverent. Fah-Ree was chanting under his breath. They were in the presence of the holy. The young woman felt their awe as her own. The Rahs, the remnant of the old religion, had been keeping a fire alive in the temple, but here their God had sent some more of His essence down to the world, a fresh revelation. It was up to them to gather it and bring it with care and ceremony to the place of its worship.
Fah-Ree, the bobcat, and the wolf held their pine branches in their teeth, but they could crane their necks out to a nest of flames and try to light one end of their torches. Doe had better reach, but she was unused to this kind of activity. On her first attempt she accidently tamped out one of the fires. The starling gave a strangled cry as if in pain. The weaverbird shot Loomahk a serious look full of meaning Doe could not interpret. The woman tried again, more cautiously this time, holding the branch close to the fire's blue heart until her torch burned white and gold.
The Rahs journeyed back to the temple slowly, stopping often to adjust the grip on their torches or to relight those that had gone out. The rain was long gone but there was still some wind. Doe walked with one hand cupped round her prize while the rest kept to her leeward side. Still, one by one the torches died out until Doe's was the last, and she couldn't keep it lit in the fall from earth to the temple floor. The trip had been in vain.
"Never mind it," Loomahk reassured Doe. "They often end this way."
But it saddened Doe to see all the animals work so hard for no return. She wondered if anything could be done. She wanted desperately to help, to prove new-awakening zeal in service to Re.