Knock knock

We reached the middle of the mountain and we had to rest. I blew my whistle and they all looked at me. Whistling is our language when going up and down the mountain, when hunting, when in danger, when inviting someone to a feast, announcing the arrival of a new child or mourning a lost person. I pointed to a flat area with a hollow inside that looked like a cave. We all headed towards it. It was indeed a small cave. A tiger was about to enter, but I stood in front of it to block the opening of the cave. I lit the splinter and threw it inside. In seconds, the bats came out scuttling quickly. I waited until I was sure the cave was safe and free of any annoying creature, but... A tiger pushed me away from the cave opening and entered.