He was waiting for his father. His Dad. One of the hunters.
The swift machines came gliding through the big opening they called the Gape.
One day he would be a hunter himself, he thought. One day, when he was proven worthy.
Another machine came by, yet another could be seen in the sky.
The little planes came through, in from the world outside, the Vast. One by one they flew by. His father was not among them.
The sun went down. Small lights lit up the cave like little stars. No more planes arrived.
He ran down the ladders, down the staircases, over the bridges leading towards the landing platforms. The riders were getting off their machines. As he came closer he could see their faces.
Their eyes were dark, their mouths shut tight.
A hunter had not made it home.
Another short post of mine:
Some spectacular visual inspiration: