The Beginning

The girl brought birds eggs, berries, and wild turnips for him to eat. He rapidly grew stronger on this diet and was soon sitting up and poking idly at the small fire with a stick.

By the sixth day he was back on his feet and helping her find food.

Upon returning to the caves, he found that his cook fire and sleeping furs had been claimed by the self appointed clan leader. He challenged, and was immediately rewarded by an attack.

The leader thrust the short spear at his stomach. He had no time to think. His left hand swept the spear aside and his right came up palm forward, the heel of his hand struck the leader square on the end of the nose. Bones splintered and the jagged pieces were forced back into the man’s brain.

The fight was over in a heart beat. The leader lie dead at his feet. He feared the rest of the clan would attack him, but they didn’t seem to care, one way or the other.

Without any ceremony or show of remorse, two of the older men dragged the dead man to the entrance of the cave and threw his lifeless body over the cliff, to be carried away by the stream, or eaten by scavengers. Death to them was an every day occurrence and met with out remorse.

At the beginning of his fifteenth winter in the caves, the girl took her place in his sleeping furs, as his woman. She tended his cook fire, fashioned tools for him and scraped the green hides he brought for her to cure, and when the need arose, fought at his side. The other women constantly questioned her because her belly didn’t swell with child as theirs did. It was just as well. All the newborns died that spring.

It was a cold and wet spring. The small stream stayed flooded until early summer. Food was hard to find, consisting mostly of drowned animal carcasses pulled from the flooded stream.

Fifteen summers of plenty passed. The girl grew old and frail, and eventually died, leaving him alone and heart broken. Many offered to take her place, but he wanted none of them. He stayed on as elder and helped the small band to survive until he was gored by a wounded bull and left for dead.

He lay in his own blood and watched as the clan butchered the bull he had killed. They carried away the choice cuts of meat. He knew darkness would bring the scavengers. They would eat anything that couldn’t fend them off. By sunset the wound had stopped bleeding and he had managed to pull the spear free that he has thrust into the bulls juggler vein, and start a small fire.

With meat readily available, fire to roast it, and the spear to fend off the scavengers, he managed to make it through the night by throwing fire barns at the scavengers and jabbing any that came within range with the spear. They lurked about all night, making it impossible for him to sleep. He had noticed that he didn’t require all that much sleep. The exercise of keeping the scavengers at bay had helped him to regain strength and kept his wound from stiffening up.

Morning found him hungry. Food was at his fingertips since the clan had only taken what they could carry, which left better than half of the carcass for him to choose from. He ate what he could and lay up for another day and night.

The scavengers came again as darkness approached and sat in close vigil throughout the night. Any time he dozed they would rush in to try and grab a morsel from the carcass. Again, he was kept busy throughout the dark hours hurling burning sticks and jabbing with the spear to keep the night creatures at bay.