Silvertip Mountain but what's inside you?

any of them— he grunts as he rears back on two legs, examining the sloping wall— worth mentioning? he rubs his head over the stone, marking it with his smell. just in case. he was a cautious man. when he had explored caves, he would keep to the right hand side and only turn right at the forks in the road. to leave, he'd only have to turn around and go left. old habits died hard. 
the cave bottlenecks into a smaller corridor, just enough for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. up ahead, the chitter and chatter of bats. these hallways had been carved out by thousands of years of water. ozymandias and his ruined face came to mind.