The stone heaved in front of our cave was warm to touch, as if someone had lit a fire inside its rocky structure. Elizabeth stood next to me, pressing her palm against the unsteady surface. I could only just see her in the dying candle flame.
"We need to push it a little," she said breathlessly. "There must be a reason why it's warm."
We both dug our heels into the cave floor and pushed, pushed, pushed. William and George came and heaved with us.
With an agonized cry, the stone shifted, and precious light seeped in through the crack.