A Tribe of Giants

Flake was shocked, on a fundamental level by this small kindness. For his own people had they come across a starved grown man intruding on their lands they'd have most likely chased him off or killed him as some sort of threat. Of course what Flake had no means of understanding was that this woman didn't see him as the grown man he was. For his short stature and primitive features made the woman assume he was some sort of abandoned or lost child, and with his degraded condition she assumed he was a child in desperate need of rescue as well. Both humans froze for a moment, neither really being brimming with confidence in the strange situation. The woman made the first move, for while her confidence wasn't great her conviction to save this “child” was. With far greater precision than Flake himself could throw objects the woman gently tossed the piece of meat as his feet before producing another piece from the same strange pouch of skins on her side.

Flake's human brain hesitated though it was no match for animal needs of survival. Quickly Flake snatched the meat without breaking eye contact and put it in his mouth. It was dry, tough, and old as if it were set out in the dry season sun for a long period of time. Yet at the same time it tasted like campfire smoke, like it was cooked but the flavor was far more extreme; the smoke overtaking the taste of the meat almost entirely. Still Flake ate it quickly as he was so desperate for food, and as he ate the woman stretched out her arm and offered another piece of meat while making some sort of strange and complex noises with her mouth. Far more complicated than Flake and his species could produce with their anatomy, the noises had specific pattern and an almost bird-like quality to them. The woman spoke softly in the vague hopes that Flake might understand her. Though even if Flake could verbally speak there was no chance he would understand this language he had never heard the likes of before.

Flake in turn gestured in his own species method of communication, a loud but low humming came from his mouth as he dropped his spear and crouched low while keeping his hands in the air. Flakes message was a simple one with his people, I submit and I mean no harm. The woman however just have a confused look on her face, for while their facial anatomy did differ in their species, they were still close enough that facial expressions were still mutually intelligible. The woman, not sure of what to do, would simply toss Flake another piece of meat, though this one was closer to her position than his own. Flake nervously stretched forwards and took the meat before quickly returning to his own position and eating it. And so the back and forth went for a few more pieces, each time the piece of meat was thrown ever so much closer to the woman's position, forcing Flake to scoot ever closer each time. For the last piece of meat the woman had on her she wouldn't throw it, she'd simply hold it in the flattened palm of her hand and outstretch her arm towards Flake. Flake, having had his confidence built up and his appetite stimulated, tentatively reached forwards to pluck the meat from the woman's hands. Only for the woman to caress his hand gently with her other hand by surprise. At first Flake jolted in surprise yet he didn't run away or attack in fright, for he recognized this gesture. This was the same gesture his long time mate Three Fingers comforted him with time and time again back home. Be it over the loss of tribe members, the dispersal of his eldest daughter, or whatever other numerous events had upset him over their life together.

Flake’s lip quivered as the emotions overwhelmed his human mind, he'd been alone for so long and desperately missed family. And while these strange giants could never replace them, if they'd let him in maybe they could become close enough. The woman smiled knowing she had finally made a breakthrough on the poor lost “child”. Flake took and ate the meat as she watched before the woman would step back and wave for him to follow. Flake even still wasn't sure but he was so desperate for food and human company that he had to take the risk. So Flake quickly retrieved his spear and stone biface blade before following far behind the woman as they made their way down the rock formation.

Flake was watchful and vigilant in his attitude and defensive in his posturing as they walked, still not truly convinced this was some sort of ambush where a dozen of these giant men would spring out and beat him to death. After all that's how his people fought wars between rival tribes, patrol until you find an isolated member and then jump them with the rest of your tribesmen. Though the woman did ease his suspicions at least somewhat, for his people a woman was far too valuable to risk putting in an ambush as bait. As they approached closer towards the camp the woman would wave both arms in the air and shout, not in an angry tone but just loud enough so that someone could hear her over the clattering rocks and ocean waves of the beach. Flake froze for a moment and debated running away, only to swallow his fear and pursue the risk of ambush for the sake of potential food and companionship.

Three people ran up to the woman in response to her yelling. The first was an elderly man with a long white patch of hair hanging from face, around his jaw and lips. The other was another woman, only slightly older than the one who Flake was following, even as she ran she never seemed to move her left arm which was strangely skinny compared to her right arm. There he stood while the woman exchanged complicated noises with the two others, while the woman he followed did gesture a little; it was nowhere near the amount Flake and his people used to communicate. Their primary method of communication seemed to be all these complicated noises Flake could perfectly well hear, but couldn't actually produce himself. From his tone and facial expressions Flake could still understand that the old man seemed unhappy with whatever it was the woman he followed communicated with him. Though both the women seemed to hold firm in their convictions and kept speaking against him.

Moments passed and the old man waved them off to turn his attention to Flake himself. The old man spoke something but all Flake could really do was look at him with eyebrows raised in confusion. Flake would attempt his own people's method of gesturing communication only for the three large humans before him to give him a similar confused look. Flake tried to communicate how he was caught in a storm and floated on the sea for many days before arriving here. When Flake pointed at the sea behind him, that's when the woman he followed turned to the old man and began speaking again, similarly pointing out at the sea. Both the women began to chide the old man again in tandem. What Flake didn't understand of the conversation was that both the women agreed that Flake was a lost Homo Sapien child, whereas the old man correctly assumed he was some of different type of human like the denisovans and other hominids they encountered in their native land across the sea as well. With Flake's pointing at the sea the women both took it as confirmation that Flake was a migrant and therefore a Homo Sapiens like them.

The man just chuffed in stubborn annoyance before he turned and started walking back towards the camp. The woman with the injured arm followed behind him before the woman Flake followed turned and waved for him to follow. Nervously Flake did so, still clutching his wooden spear tightly. As the group approached the bonfire the old man raised his fingers to his mouth and let out a deafening whistle, which signaled all the humans nearby to gather around. All twenty plus the children eventually gathered around to investigate the noise. The old man spoke aloud in a booming voice so that all could hear before he gestured to Flake. All the tribe looked over Flake with inspecting eyes, many felt sorrow and compassion, others disgust, while a few looked on in annoyance or anger. Again what Flake currently lacked the knowledge to understand was that the old man was asking the rest of the tribe what they actually thought Flake was. Was he a lost child of their own species, or was he some sort of other human. While the consensus on his species was mixed, most everyone in the tribe verbally agreed he must be some sort of lost, abandoned, or orphaned child regardless. A consensus based almost purely around his small statue, as Flake shedded his youthful looks many years ago. Though few would look young when starved and in such a condition as Flake’s regardless.

Then came the discussion of what to actually do with this “child” they found, a vote was called and the bulk of the tribe raised their hands. They voted that they should take this “child” in regardless of his species. For they couldn't just let a child starve to death as it appeared Flake was so near to doing. The old man relented before the meeting was broken apart, in his tribe Flake filled a similar role to this old man in his own tribe, and while he didn't understand a single word said he still figured the basic concept of what happened. This was a tribe wide meeting, and most likely one about him. Usually when Flake held meetings such as this it was discussion of when to migrate up or down the hills, or when he gathered the tribe for a big hunt.

With the agreement the tribe gathered around Flake, to where for a moment he was again scared by their tall stature and the fact they had him surrounded. More sounds Flake didn't know the meaning of were spoken between the tribespeople as they looked down on him. In truth they were discussing what to do first with this poor starved “child”. One man offered to make him some makeshift clothes, while the woman he followed said she was going to feed him a good meal first. Others spoke their own ideas from looking over his scabs to a suggestion to bathe him first. All the while Flake stood there and for the first time in decades he felt like a child again, in the worst way possible.

And so Flake was fully adopted into this tribe of Homo Sapiens who took him in as one of their own. The first thing he was given was a large fur hide with a hole cut in the center to make a sort of makeshift poncho before true sewed together clothing could be made for him. The fur was long and coarse, it was reddish brown in color with numerous white spots; nothing like any of the rats on his home island. It must have been some animal native to this land he hadn't seen yet. Next he was gratuitously fed as to rebuild his body. The bulk of these people's diets seemed to be fish, oceanic fish that resembled some of the large silver fish Flake saw while he was marooned at sea. All their food was cooked over the fire it appeared, especially meat. They also started fire in a peculiar way that Flake nor any of his people ever thought possible. Instead of relying purely upon sparking rocks, they took a long smooth stick of dry wood and would spin it back and forth with their hands. This somehow heated the wood where the end of the stick rubbed against it to the point where it would start smoking before producing a coal that could be fed into a fire with dried grass.

Yet what was most perplexing to Flake so far at least was this tribe’s tools, which all so complex Flake's species as a whole never could have invented them. Even in seeing them Flake could hardly make sense of how to make them himself. Rather than just having simple stone bifaces and hand axes where one holds the tool directly to use it. The tools of these people were complex things, a small stone knife held to the end of a piece of wood or bone with tree sap and the hard stringy bits between the meat of large animals. Even more complex still was in their ability to kill from afar. Mostly due to their different shoulder anatomy these people could throw objects with significantly more range, power, and accuracy than Flake could ever even hope to achieve. They modified this even further with slightly curved sticks they held which helped them throw these long, thin, stone tipped spears with bird feathers on the back end even further and farther still. Or the larger evenly curved sticks that had both ends connected by a long string of sinew. In pulling the sinew string back a tiny thin spear would be shot forward by the stick at nearly incomprehensible speeds.

Even the nests of these people were far more complex than anything Flake's people ever made. They didn't have to rely solely on tree cover or caves to get out of the elements. They could bury long branches into the ground in a circular pattern before covering the sticks with animal furs and hides to create a weatherproof sanctuary anywhere they wanted. That or they'd simply flip their water vessels over and prop them up on logs to act as a roof over their heads temporarily.

Finally was how they covered their bodies to protect against the elements even when outside of their shelters. There were simple makeshift covers like what was first given to Flake, it being just a simple animal hide. Which was already novel to Flake, not because his species was incapable of such ideas, but because their island home was so warm they never needed to cover like this. Though most the tribe wore far more complex and elaborate than that. They wore treated hides that were stretched out on wooden racks before being smoked over the fire. Then they would be stitched together with sinew string and a small thin bone needle which would pierce the hide only for the holes to be followed by alternating strings of sinew, thus holding two different hides together firmly. This allowed them to create complex clothes that wrapped tightly to their bodies, keeping them warm without getting in the way.

Beyond that were the concepts Flake's biology fundamentally prevented him from using and or understanding at all. The first being their vocal only method of communication, try as he might he couldn't clearly make half of the key sounds they tried to teach him time and time again. His speech was unclear and animalistic, too rough to produce true speech even as he began to understand what certain sounds being said actually meant; all to his great frustration. A concept Flake couldn't understand mentally was in these people's obsession with seemingly useless objects. Certain sea shells would be gathered on the beaches as painstakingly have small holes poked or drilled into them before they would be threaded on strings and worn around for no apparent purpose. Or how black char and ashes from after a fire has burned out would be collected and ground down into a fine powder before being mixed with water to create a black liquid that stains everything it touches. This black liquid would either be used to stain patterns such as handprints or depictions of animals on the surface of stone or skin. Or even more bizarrely used to coat the tip of a bone needle and repetitively jabbed into the skin of a tribesman to create permanent patterns in their own skin.

Months passed and Flake struggled to integrate with the rest of this alien tribe of giants. While he was grateful for both the food which aided greatly in his recovery and the human companionship he so desperately missed he couldn't shake the feeling of being other to the tribe. Like he was just some scavenger picking over their remains, try as they might to properly integrate him. What truly gave him this feeling was in how the tribespeople treated him. Flake was coddled and herded around, not allowed to truly help or prove himself, as if he were just a child. Flake wasn't invited on hunts, people grew worried if he wandered too far from the camp, every time he tried to knap some tools someone would come along and correct him into trying to do it his way. Even with his natural gesturing communication some of the elders would attempt to scold him and drill him on their speaking communication methods again. It was all so frustrating, and even when he got frustrated rather than being comforted an elder would usually just scold him.

Even the handful of children within the tribe continually bothered him to play, and while he did oblige, being that he was a father himself and knew how important it was for them. It only made him feel more infantilized than he already was by the adults. To go from a pillar of his old tribe, a father with several children between several mates, and the one who most often fed his tribe great meals, this new tribe was something of a mental torture. Still he felt like he had no choice but to stay with this tribe, not just because of his natural communal instincts; but also on account of how each night seemed to get colder and colder. Flake felt that in this alien land his only hope for survival was amongst the tribe of these giants. All he had to do was find a way to prove himself the man that he was, and with his health starting to return to him; perhaps that goal could soon be within reach.