The Home and the Storm

What makes a human? Is it the analytical minds we use to contemplate the world around us? Or is it our tongues, our ability to express ourselves and discuss the intricacies of our contemplation? Perhaps what makes a human is the burning hand of vengeance, which we use like no other beast to strike down any who would predate us long after they have slunk back to their nest; lazy and satiated off the flesh of our kin. The hopeful proclaim that it is our compassion that makes us human, how we aid our fellow tribesmen even at cost to ourselves. Unlike beasts, if a member of our tribe is stricken with a broken leg they are not just left behind to rot in place or starve when they can't gather food themselves. Could it be in our ability to contemplate the unseen and seemingly unreal? To not just ask how the world works but why it works, even when our naked eyes could never see the unknown forces that work the cosmos? Only for us to create our own answers ourselves when none can be observed. Is what makes a human the animal, is it the spirit, or is it something else entirely?

The day had begun as it always does, with the crimson rays of the morning sun burning their way into the open mouth of the cave and reflecting off the pooling drops of condensation before they fall to the stone floor below. The first to awake from their slumber are not the elders of this small band, for they are tired and weary from their sore bodies and a lifetime of grueling survival. Nor is it the scattering of tiny children who are too innocent and shielded to have such keen awareness of their surroundings yet. Nor would it even be their mothers who were just relieved that their children allowed them a moment’s rest. No, the first to awake today, as he did most days; would be an adult male of the tribe in the latter years of his prime.

Flake’s eyes shuddered to life when met with the crimson reflection of the morning sun, sitting up from his bed of grass and animal skins Flake met the morning with a stretch of his arms over his head. Like everyday he stood up and snuck out of the cave and into the periphery of the jungle on his Island home to relieve himself against a tree, all the while scanning the jungle's edge for any signs of danger. The tribe, numbering thirty-six in population, hadn't managed to share a great meal in weeks. Hunting rats and gathering what bananas were ripe was getting everyone individually fed enough to survive, but it was the great meals that built their fat reserves and allowed them to thrive. Of course the great meals were always the hardest to get, they were either a matter of timing and luck such as the berries and leaves of a specific mountain shrub they harvest when they migrate up the mountain in the rainy season. While others had to be hunted or scavenged at great risk, such as with the Long Teeth, Death Jaws, or Spear Beaks, the three greatest of the island beasts.

Flake finished his business against the tree and returned to the cave, it was settled, he'd take the men of the tribe out for a hunt. Ideally for something large and ambitious, that they can use to fatten up on to help carry them through the dry season. Flake let bellow three hooting calls at the entrance of the cave, for while their species had the minds and ears to hear and understand language, the proportions of their vocal tracts greatly limited their ability to speak. Instead communication among them was a mix of simple sounds and more complex gestures to give detail. Eight men emerged from the entrance of the cave, some with yawns and others with concerned looks on their faces. Flake made a thrusting motion with his hands as he excitedly cried out, announcing to the group that they were hunting today and to grab the spears from the cave. The men cried out and hooted in excitement as the young men and adolescents ran back to the cave to fetch their wooden spears and stone bifaces. The spears themselves were long and sturdy wooden branches cleared of offshoots and sharpened to point on one end with a stone biface. While the bifaces themselves were sharp; doubled edged hand blades, finely knapped from silicified tuff.

Flake's oldest son Long Hair, nearly reaching the entrance to manhood himself, carried two spears. One he fashioned himself last rainy season from the branch of a tree knocked over in a storm, the other was heavy and strong, of a deep dark brown color; a spear Flake carved many years ago when Long Hair was a child from a branch of Ironwood that similarly blew down in a storm. It took many moons and even more stone bifaces to get the stubborn wood carved but it has been a loyal tool ever since. Flake took his trusty spear from Long Hair’s arms with a smile and nod of thanks, the day he becomes too old or wounded to wield it properly he will likely pass it to Long Hair.

As the others came out of the cave five in total were armed with spears, while two elderly men and one young adolescent carried bifaces and knapping tools such as hammer stones. Armed and ready the hunting party set out, spearheaded by Flake they followed the nearby creek they drank out of to search for any great beasts in wanting of a drink themselves. Hours passed and while they saw their usual prey of giant rats nearly the same size as themselves they saw no signs of Long Teeth nor Death Jaws. Still the hunt was one of the great bonding things between the men of their tribe, for even as they stalked silently they gestured great relations with each other in a time of merriment. Hours passed still again as the morning sun shifted into the noon sun burning directly overhead. Of curiosity to Flake was that between branches of the canopy overhead the sky was completely cloudless. They were in the start of the dry season but even then that didn't stop the rains or clouds from appearing entirely, especially this early on in the season.

Yet the idle curiosity was quickly voided from Flake's mind as a cacophony of pops, tears, and hisses could be heard on the horizon. The Death Jaws have caught something, something big, and they're currently tearing into it with their usual mad frenzy. Flake quickly held his spear to the side, stopping the rest of the hunters behind him; before gesturing his spear in an upwards motion telling the hunters to take to the trees. Grasping their spears in their mouths the hunters used their unique anatomy of slightly curled fingers, forward angled shoulders, and broad feet, to quickly scale the trees with ease. Flake with his heavy spear however had to climb the tree one handed, something he was well practiced in doing at this point. Making their way from tree to tree the hunting party approached the grizzly concert of rending flesh; Flake’s assumption was correct, a swarm of about five Death Jaws were feasting upon the body of a young Long Tooth. The giant lizards had already hollowed out the stegodon’s body of fat rich organs and eaten much of its right side, the side that faced up away from the ground. Even with nearly half the carcass missing it'd still make a good meal for the tribe, all they had to do was scare the Death Jaws off their kill for a meal that would still likely be easier than had they brought down a Long Tooth themselves. After all, now most of the Death Jaws were sated on their fill of the rich fat and flesh, as opposed to when the Death Jaws themselves try to steal their kills.

A couple of low whistles and gestures given by Flake paired with the context of the situation told everyone the plan. They were going to harass the Death Jaws off this kill and steal it for themselves, and the first step would be a volley from the trees. Silently making their way from branch to branch with a natural ease the hunters closed the distance until they were directly over the Death Jaw feeding frenzy. Of the five Death Jaws present at the carcass two were large adult males who only hovered on the periphery of the carcass, the blood on their faces telling they've already had their fill of the most choice parts. One was a sub adult male picking what he could off the Long Tooth’s head, including its long trunk and big ears. While the final two Death Jaws were both female attempting to fatten up for the upcoming mating season and were picking apart what was easily accessible of the torso and legs.

Tearing branches from the trees around them the hunters due to their shoulder anatomy couldn't throw with any great deal of accuracy, instead they lobbed the great branches at and around the Death Jaws as they all began to hoot and scream in an attempt to scare them off. The two big males would casually saunter away first, while they weren't necessarily afraid of the display, they just already had their fill and didn't feel like putting up with the harassment. Similarly the young male quickly sped away in the opposite direction as it was already on edge just from the presence of the larger males and the sudden display made its nerve give out entirely. The two females however reared their heads and hissed before opening their jaws wide to show two mouthfuls of teeth that could kill with even a grazing bite. The creatures were testy and unnerved now but not yet willing to give up a meal at such a vital time.

Flake took his heavy ironwood spear and crudely lobbed at the larger of the two females, with a heavy thud the flank of the spear collided with the top of the Death Jaw’s head; sending the beast into a rage. It would lash out at the other Death Jaw, biting ferociously into her counterpart's head. For these were not social animals, and could only barely tolerate each other at the best of times, much less so under stress. The two animals then went into a frenzy of tearing claws and teeth along with the powerful whipping of strong tails. After the brief explosion of violence the larger female had successfully chased off her smaller rival, now there was only one Death Jaw between them and an easy meal. Flake would pick a large switch from a branch at his side and would hastily clear it of side branches and leaves before dropping down to the jungle floor below. The other hunters followed still holding their spears, Flake didn't mourn throwing his own spear as it was too heavy to be much use for anything other than a sneak attack, this lightweight switch would serve him better in this moment.

Flake approached as the hunters behind threw their arms in the air to make themselves appear larger as they continued to scream and holler. Both Flake and the Death Jaw were on edge now, as the Death Jaw gnashed its bloody teeth at Flake with a hiss. Flake knew full well how dangerous the Death Jaws were, for his father when Flake was a young boy had received a small grazing bite from one while out hunting. The wound itself was nothing, a few small cuts on his arm, yet it never healed; those wounds would just rot and fester on his arm until the malady spread to his whole body and eventually killed him. Flake would quickly lash out with the switch aiming for the Death Jaw’s eye, though the swing went shallow and only whipped its nose. The Death Jaw hissed and charged at Flake, rather than retreat Flake stomped a foot forward and swung his switch again; this time meeting the beast’s eye dead on. The Death Jaw quickly recoiled after the whipping branch hit its eye, while this meal was vital for its reproduction it wasn't worth potentially losing an eye. The Death Jaw turned and went running, with Flake chasing behind and lashing its tail with his switch, each swing cutting through the air and whipping the tail with a thin painful slap. With each hit the switch broke a little more until Flake was satisfied the Death Jaw was scared off and ran away far enough. The other hunters cheered and hollered in triumph as they stood over the carcass of the Long Tooth. While it wasn't as much food as it could have been had they hunted the Long Tooth themselves, it was a great victory where nobody got hurt.

Flake would grab his spear and keep watch for any other would be scavengers as the rest of the hunting party quickly set about butchering the remains of the Long Tooth. What meat showed Death Jaw tooth marks was scraped away with stone flakes freshly broken off the cobbles and all had a razor edge. What was left of the skin was scrapped off in one piece after all the hunters worked to lift and flip the half carcass over. What they scavenged for meat was the quarter of both the left legs, the meat in-between the ribs, as well as left side flank cuts of the Long Tooth. The largest of the leg bones were also harvested for both the marrow inside and for use as tools. The strips of meat between the ribs were eaten raw by the hunters on the spot with glee. With full stomachs the hunting party all gathered what they could carry and set off back up the stream towards their current home cave.

Flake carried a leg quarter with him as they walked back, between the added weight and the time taken to butcher what remained of the carcass the walk back took significantly longer. Though what was most worrying were the clouds on the horizon. While the bulk of the day was mysteriously absent of clouds, these new fast approaching clouds were as black as night and heavy as the meat and bones they carried under arm. The hunting party quickly hurried back as fast as their broad feet could carry them. Even still the unseasonably heavy rains beat them back, the hunting party having to fight dumping rain for over an hour before they reached the cave again, their naked bodies soaked to the bone. The women, children, and men who simply had something else other than hunting to do met them with cheers from the cave. Several attempts at lighting a fire had been made, but the sparks coming off the striking rocks found no purchase in the suddenly soaked tinder. The returning hunters would all make their own desperate attempts at fire only to end in failure and for the hunters to give up in frustration, everything was just too wet to start a fire tonight.

Though most everyone except for the now thoroughly soaked hunting party didn't especially mind the lack of fire. Long Tooth meat when cooked over a fire tends to toughen up considerably, to the point where mothers will often have to bash the meat with a rock to get it soft enough for the children to eat. Instead everyone huddled around the dryer back side of the cave on the edge of its interior of pitch black darkness and ate the raw meat with their hands. Even in spite of this sudden unexpected storm it was a joyous time of gesturing conversation, laughter, and general communal bonding. Flake was flanked by two of his mates huddled against him, Three Fingers who was the mother of Long Hair as well Flake's two daughters of Red Hair and Dry Bone. She was by far his favorite and most long time mate, she was called Three Fingers because she was missing her pinky and ring finger on her left hand from a rat attack. The other mate was Loud Call the mother of Flake's two other sons Green Eyes and an as of yet unnamed infant she was currently holding against her. Of course there were numerous other family members as well, his first surviving child, a daughter called Twisted Hair born to a mother called Small Foot, Twisted Hair dispersed to a neighboring tribe, and Small Foot died soon after giving birth to her, with another member of the tribe having to nurse her. Not to mention the handful of unnamed children and infants long passed from sickness or predation.

As the night passed the rain worsened, while much of the tribe drifted off to sleep Flake and Three Fingers huddled against each other and watched the rain fall, simply enjoying each other's company. The storm had gotten so bad the sky outside looked as if it was made up more of water than it was air. Eventually the pair adjourned to their usual pile of dried grass and animal skins for the night, huddling against each other for warmth. Yet the night had not passed fully they and many others of the tribe awoken suddenly to wet ground. The cave was flooding and it was flooding fast. Flake jumped to his feet with a hoot as he looked first to Loud Call and their infant son. Seeing they were among the first to get up, he rushed to his ironwood spear. The cave was filled with a veritable orchestra of the sounds of rushing water and panicked cries as the tribe scrambled to gather what they could of their tools, food, and skins before the rushing water could carry it into the unseen depths of the cave. Flake’s first concern was leading the women and children from the cave, he's trusted Long Hair and the other men of the tribe to handle grabbing everything else. Calling loudly into the cave with an echo he cupped one hand to his breast and circled his spear in the air above his head, telling all the women and their children to gather around him.

Quickly they did so and Flake led them out of the cave and up the hill, or at least so he thought. A young girl had slipped on the rocks outside of the cave and was being dragged off by the rushing flood waters. She didn't have a name yet, names to these people were largely informal and made for the sake of convenience in discussion. Still she was the youngest daughter of Flake's cousin and without hesitation Flake handed his spear to Three Fingers and dove in after her. Desperately swimming without any fine techniques beyond natural intuition and a lifetime of practice, Flake slowly made his way over to the girl. The girl struggled in her mad flailing not to drown which made rescue more difficult. Eventually Flake managed to grab her forearm and with a twist of his body managed to throw her up onto the bank of the flood waters where she could crawl her way out. Flake's cousin Big Cobble rushed over and grabbed her as Three Fingers and Loud Call screamed out from the land. For in his throwing of the girl onto shore Flake had driven himself to the center of the flood waters where they rushed the fastest.

Even those running along the bank couldn't hope to keep up with Flake and the rushing rapids now, before anyone could even hope to jump in after Flake they were all nothing but dots on the horizon to him. Flake figured this would be his death, to be dashed against some rock or tree by the flood waters or to drown when his paddling limbs finally gave out. Never before had Flake traveled this fast in his life, he almost couldn't comprehend the great speed in which he was moving. Besides himself the others things that were caught in the flood waters were mostly plants and trees along with a few struggling rats and the floating corpse of a Death Jaw who's neck appeared to have been broken by some sort of impact not long ago. A long palm was also included in the flood’s fatalities and it's floating remains were heading straight for Flake. Relying on instinct Flake grabbed its woody trunk and climbed aboard, clinging for his life atop it just out of the water. Flake did look to the bank in the hopes he could maybe jump off the trunk and onto land. Yet no such opportunity presented itself, the flood waters were traveling down an established run off zone so there were no trees above to grab; and the trunk was now traveling straight down the center of the rapids, straight as an arrow. All Flake could do now is hold on and try to survive, he could find his way back to the cave and his family eventually. All he had to do was survive.

The most horrifying hour of Flake's life passed as he was rushed across the face of his island home at a pace he could never hope to achieve under any other circumstances. Rats both giant and small, Long Teeth, Death Jaws, Spear Beaks, Corpse Hunters, and even the dead bodies of hominids like Flake from other tribes, all were caught in the maw of this great and terrible flood. Along with whatever other debris it's ripped up in it's rampaging quest to the ocean. Upon the horizon lay the great and angry waters of the ocean, Flake hadn't seen it since he was a boy, as his tribe predominantly stuck to the highlands of the island. They were only chased there after a war with another tribe forced them from their old territory. When the flood water forced his impromptu life raft into the ocean, Flake in a panic jumped off and made a desperate attempt to swim to shore. Flake had no idea what lay for him the endless waters and all he assumed it would be is death. Yet death was what he almost met in his attempt to swim back to his island as the current ripped him back to sea and forced his head underwater numerous times. Along with the crashing storm waves and wind creating its own share of difficulties and near drownings.

After nearly drowning countless times in his mad frenzy eventually another palm tree would be washed across his path and Flake would use the last of his strength to climb aboard and cling desperately to it. Flake had no idea what would become of him as he was washed out to sea. All he knew was that he was too tired to struggle anymore. Though his body lay exhausted his mind raced, what was happening to him? What's going to happen to the tribe? Is everyone else in the tribe ok? How well were they going to do without him? How could he get back? These and a million other questions signed and gestured their way across Flakes weary mind. Though one emotion came to the forefront of his mind, frustration. For this storm had rendered him completely powerless, as if he were nothing but a child.