Miros kept his lamp low.
The women and children had stopped behind him, gathered in the wider section of the passage. Antiphus stayed with them, speaking quietly whenever a child began to cry. Daidalos stood a few steps away, one hand resting on the cart they had managed to bring through the narrow passage.
Miros looked at the dust beside the stone door.
The footprint was clear.
It pointed deeper into the passage.
He crouched and touched its edge without disturbing it. The dust had settled around it, but not inside it. Whoever had made the mark had passed recently.
Daidalos came closer.
"How old?"
"Not long."
"Could be one of ours."
Miros shook his head.
"We all came through the other side."
Daidalos looked back at the group.
"Should I take them back?"
"No."
The word came too quickly.
Miros glanced at the women. Some were holding their children against them. Others stood with their hands clasped over their mouths, listening to the darkness.
