The caves are easy enough to find, a chunk of crystals jutting out of the black earth like a jagged tooth in a gum. Logan spots it through the trees and lets himself be drawn towards it, figuring that at least it might have something else to tell him about what this place is.

Inside it smells like minerals and standing water, all dark wet stone and more crystals picking up what little light gets filtered into the mouth of the place and refracting it back in rainbow arcs. And there's the sound of someone crying. A familiar voice.

Logan pauses; almost stops and leaves right there. She's not his kid, even if she might be a friend. She doesn't need him intruding on her grief. He ought to respect that. She might even thank him for it.

He thinks about the way she clutched the carved deer in her hands and her warm weight against his side, promising to guard him against whatever was going to come with that little knife. He thinks about what it must be like, to be a kid and so alone. And he can't leave.

His boots scuff the floor as he moves further into the cave, deliberately loud. He catches sight of her as he ducks a little under an overhang of dripping crystals. When she turns and yells at him he holds up his hands.

"Hey, kid. It's ok."