The wind and snow outside the cave grew fiercer.
The howling cold wind carried snowflakes, like countless tiny stone knives, scraping against the rock walls of the cave where the Flame Stone Tribe resided, emitting a strange
That sound drilled into the cave, dissipating the already thin warmth even further.
The firelight inside the cave was pitifully dim; a few damp animal bones lay in the stone-built fire pit, only occasionally sparking, making the shifting shadows on the cave walls flicker between light and dark, like a group of ghosts about to extinguish.
Alex — no, he should now be called by the name of this body, but he no longer had the strength to remember what this body was originally called.
He was curled up in the innermost corner of the cave, wrapped in a tattered animal hide that reeked strongly of mutton,
The hide was full of patches, and its edges still had uncleared animal fur, but even so, the bone-chilling cold still seeped into the crevices of his bones through his limbs.
His stomach was empty, as if an extremely hungry beast was constantly gnawing at his internal organs,
Each breath brought a tearing pain, and his vision periodically darkened, a physiological reaction to extreme hunger.
He remembered how he collapsed.
Yesterday morning, the last few able-bodied men in the Tribe who could still walk followed the Chief into the forest to search for food,
He also forced himself to go along — after all, in this barbaric land of the Stone Age, if you don’t find food, you can only wait for death.
But there were no traces left in the forest; the wild rabbits and pheasants that could still be seen at this time of year, were either frozen away or hunted clean by other Tribes.
They trekked in the snow for an entire day, only finding a few withered wild vegetables and a piece of tree bark too tough to chew.
On the way back, he couldn’t hold on any longer, slipped, and fell into a snowdrift,
By the time he was pulled up, his consciousness had already begun to blur,
When he woke up again, he was lying in this corner, without even the strength to lift his hand.
Cough…
cough cough…
A violent coughing sound came from not far away; it was the Old Shaman, the oldest in the Tribe.
The Old Shaman was curled up on a relatively dry stone slab, covered with the best bear hide in the Tribe — it was left from a black bear that Chief John and his men hunted to the death last year.
But even so, the Old Shaman’s face was as pale as paper,
Each cough seemed to tear his lungs out.
He clutched a smoothly polished wooden staff in his hand,
The staff head was carved with a blurry sun totem, the symbol of the Flame Stone Tribe, but at this moment, even this symbol appeared lifeless.
Father, I’m hungry…
A scrawny child tugged at the animal hide clothing of a middle-aged man nearby, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
The child was at most five or six years old, his arms as thin as broomsticks, yet his belly was slightly distended,
That wasn’t the plumpness of being full, but ascites caused by prolonged starvation.
The middle-aged man was Shi, a Hunter in the Tribe, who usually carried his stone axe at the forefront.
But now, he just weakly patted the child’s head, his throat moved, but he didn’t say a word — his pouch had long been empty,
All the wild vegetables found yesterday were given to the child, and he himself only gnawed on some tree bark.
The cave was terrifyingly quiet, apart from the Old Shaman’s coughing and the child’s occasional whimpering, there was only the howling wind and snow outside the cave.
Everyone bowed their heads, either staring at their chapped hands, or looking at the dying embers in the fire pit, their eyes filled with numbness and despair.
Everyone knew that the Tribe’s food supply had completely run out.
Three days ago, the last piece of smoked meat was distributed among the Tribe’s children and the injured;
Two days ago, the last bit of stored dried wild fruits was gone;
Yesterday, even tree bark and grass roots that could fill stomachs were nowhere to be found.
Everyone, get up.
Suddenly, a deep, powerful voice broke the deadly silence.
Chief John stood up from the fire pit; his stature was exceptionally tall,
Even in this low cave, he had to slightly lower his head to avoid hitting the rock wall.
He was wrapped in a brown bear hide, which, although worn, was much thicker than others’, but at this moment, this animal hide, which could display his strength, could not hide the fatigue on his face.
He held a sharply ground stone axe in his hand, its blade still bearing bloodstains from the last hunt,
But the bloodstains had long dried, turning dark brown.
John’s gaze swept over everyone in the cave, his eyes carrying a heavy resolve, as if he had made some difficult decision.
The Tribesmen slowly raised their heads, their gazes all converging on him — in this desperate situation, the Chief was their only hope, but everyone read an ill omen in his eyes.
Food…
cannot be found.
John’s voice was hoarse.
He paused, as if weighing his words, or perhaps steeling himself,
The winter came too early, the prey in the mountains ran away, and the wild vegetables are frozen rotten.
If we…
stay here, we’ll all starve to death.
His words were like a stone thrown into calm water, and a flurry of subtle commotion immediately broke out in the cave.
Some began to whisper, the numbness in their eyes replaced by fear;
The child who had just cried out in hunger shrank into his father Shi’s arms, frightened;
The Old Shaman stopped coughing, his clouded eyes looking at John, and he sighed softly.
Chief, what should we do then?
A young Hunter couldn’t help but ask.
His name was Mark, the youngest warrior in the Tribe, usually the most energetic one in previous years,
But now his face was full of anxiety,
We can’t give up!
The Flame Stone Tribe has existed for so many years, it can’t end with us!
Mark’s words echoed the sentiments of many, and several elders also nodded along, muttering the names of the Tribe’s ancestors, hoping for their blessing.
John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the hesitation in his gaze had completely vanished, leaving only determination:
He raised the stone axe in his hand and pointed outside the cave,
But we can’t stay together anymore.
There are still forty-two people in the Tribe now,
The old, weak, women, and children account for half, and only thirteen can fight.
If we stay together, our target is too big, we won’t find enough food, and it’s easy to attract wolf packs and attacks from other Tribes.
He paused, his voice lowered, yet carried an undeniable power:
So, I’ve decided to disperse the Tribe.
What?
Mark suddenly stood up, his voice changing pitch,
Disperse?
Chief, no!
If we disperse, we’ll be like loose sand,
What if we encounter fierce beasts?
What if we encounter people from other Tribes?
We…
we won’t survive!
If we don’t disperse, we won’t survive now.
John’s voice was heavy, but every word was clear,
I’ve thought it through; I’ll divide everyone into four groups.
I’ll lead one group to the valley in the east; there used to be a lot of prey there, perhaps we can find food;
Shi, you lead a group to the river in the west to see if you can chip ice and catch fish;
Mark, you lead a group to the woodland in the south to look for any stored nuts;
Old Shaman, you take the remaining elders and children and stay in the small cave nearby,
We’ll meet back every three days, and if anyone finds food, we’ll share a portion with you.
His arrangement was meticulous; he had clearly thought about it for a long time.
But even so, the people in the cave remained silent,
Everyone knew what dispersion meant — in this barbaric Stone Age, a weak Tribe scattering was like throwing a piece of meat into a wolf pack; probably only a handful would survive.
Chief, I’ll go east with you!
Mark was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke, a spark rekindled in his eyes,
I’m young and I can fight.
With you, I can find more food.
I’ll go east too!
Another Hunter echoed.
Shi looked at the child in his arms, then at John, and nodded:
I’m familiar with the river in the west.
I’ll lead a group there; I’m sure we can catch fish.
The Old Shaman slowly sat up, tapping the stone slab gently with his wooden staff:
I will take care of the elders and children, waiting for your return.
His voice was soft, yet carried a reassuring strength.
John looked at everyone, a hint of relief on his face, but it was quickly replaced by gravity.
He pulled a small animal hide pouch from his In my arms, opened it,
Inside were dozens of shriveled grass seeds — this was the Tribe’s last reserve.
He divided the grass seeds into four portions, each a small pinch, and handed them to the four group leaders:
This is the last of the food.
Eat sparingly until new food is found.
Mark took the grass seeds, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.
These few grass seeds weren’t even enough to get stuck in their teeth, yet they were all their hope.
Just then, a slight movement came from the corner.
The Priestess Yuna quickly walked over.
She was the Old Shaman’s apprentice, responsible for caring for the Tribe’s injured and sick.
Everyone had been listening to John speak just now, and no one noticed that corner — where lay, the original owner of this body, the young man who had fallen into the snowdrift yesterday and hadn’t woken up since.
Yuna knelt down, reached out to check the young man’s breath, then felt his carotid artery,
Then she gently shook her head, stood up, and said to John:
Chief, he…
he’s gone.
The people in the cave fell silent.
In this desperate situation of scarcity, death had become commonplace; no one was overly surprised,
But everyone’s heart grew a little heavier.
Another Tribesman was gone; the Flame Stone Tribe had one less person.
John walked to the corner, looking down at the cold body, his eyes complex.
Although the young man was not old, he was a good Hunter, and last year he had even hunted a deer with him.
But now, he was just gone.
Carry him outside the cave and find a place to bury him.
John’s voice was soft, with a hint of helplessness,
Two young Tribesmen nodded and stepped forward to carry the body away.
Just as their hands were about to touch the body, the wind and snow outside the cave suddenly intensified,
A dazzling white light flashed from outside the cave, followed by a dull rumble of thunder.
In this bitter cold winter, was it actually thundering?
Everyone was stunned, looking outside the cave.
Just then, the fingers of the supposedly cold body suddenly moved slightly,
Immediately after, his chest slightly rose and fell, and a faint breath escaped from his nose.
Yuna was the first to notice, she exclaimed:
He…
he’s still breathing!
John immediately leaned over and checked the young man’s breath.
Indeed, he was breathing!
Although very weak, he was definitely still alive!
Quick, carry him to the fire pit, warm him up!
John immediately ordered, with a hint of imperceptible excitement in his tone.
In this desperate situation, someone who should have died suddenly came back to life,
This might be a good omen, that the ancestors were protecting their Flame Stone Tribe!
Two Tribesmen quickly carried the young man to the fire pit, closer to the weak firelight.
The young man’s eyelids trembled slightly, as if they would open at any moment.
The wind and snow still howled outside, but the atmosphere inside the cave seemed to have undergone a subtle change.
The despair from earlier still hung heavy in everyone’s hearts, but at this moment, looking at the young man by the fire pit who was gradually regaining his breath, a faint spark of hope quietly ignited in everyone’s hearts.
They didn’t know that this
They were even less aware that the spark of civilization was about to ignite in this savage era, starting from this small cave.