Brown Ink

We stepped into the cave. I shined the spotlight in front of us. I told Mo to be careful, remembering what Mark Finch had written about the 30-foot drop off. As we descended further into the cave the air turned considerably colder. The natural light at the mouth of the cave was getting more and more dim. I told Mo to stop walking and moved the spotlight around, searching the cave floor and walls. I saw something on one of the walls. We moved toward it. It was a series of names scrawled in what looked like brown ink.