The crisp morning air was filled with the rhythmic chipping of stone against stone, as I sat by the river, focusing all my attention on the round slab of clay in front of me. A rough sketch of a sundial lay by my side, a testament to countless hours spent attempting to get the design just right. I squinted against the sunlight, using a sharp-edged stone to carefully etch lines into the clay.

Try as I might, the design kept getting skewed, with the lines either too wide or too narrow, and the numerals seemed all over the place. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn't get it to resemble the elegant sundials I had seen back home. Frustration gnawed at me, as I tried again and again to get it right. I could feel the pressure in my temples as the task that seemed so straightforward turned out to be deceptively challenging.

As I sat there, contemplating the next lines, I heard the crunching of leaves and the snapping of twigs behind me. A familiar laughter filled the air, and before I could turn around, a small body crashed into my back.

"What are you doing, Tak?" Zulu's voice, filled with curiosity, broke through my concentration.

"Zulu!" I laughed, turning around to ruffle his hair. His hazel eyes twinkled with delight as he looked at the sundial in progress. "I'm trying to make a sundial," I explained, motioning towards the clay disc.

"A sun-what?" He asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"A sundial, little brother. It's a device that tells the time based on the position of the sun," I explained patiently.

Zulu's eyes widened in surprise. "You can tell time from the sun?"

I chuckled at his astonished expression. "Yes, Zulu. You see, the sun moves across the sky during the day. By looking at the shadow cast by the pointer in the center, we can tell what time it is."

He looked at me, then at the clay disc and back at me, his little forehead creasing in concentration. "But...why don't you just look at the sun and guess?"

"Well..." I hesitated, "it's not always accurate. And besides, this way, we can tell time even when it's cloudy."

Zulu seemed to ponder on this for a moment before shrugging his tiny shoulders. "If you say so, Tak. Can I help?"

Despite the fact that I was struggling with it myself, I couldn't refuse his eager expression. "Of course, Zulu. Here, try to draw a straight line from the center to the edge."

We spent the rest of the day by the river, etching lines, erasing, and drawing them again. As the sun began to set, we looked at our sundial. It wasn't perfect by any means. The lines were all wobbly and uneven. The numerals looked like they were drawn by a child, which they were, in part. But as I looked at Zulu's beaming face and our sundial, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

Maybe it didn't have to be perfect. Maybe it just had to be functional. And maybe, just maybe, the best part about this sundial was the memory of this day, spent with my little brother, under the golden glow of the setting sun.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and gold, Zulu and I started our trek back home. The homemade sundial was nestled securely in my basket, the clay still soft and malleable.

Zulu, skipping a few steps ahead of me, turned back to ask, "Tak, why don't you go hunting much anymore? I miss going with you."

I sighed, his question echoing my own internal struggle. "I'd love to, Zulu. But there's so much I want to do. So much I feel we need to do for our tribe."

"But what's more important than hunting?" he asked, his eyes wide with innocence.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the slab of copper I had discovered earlier. Holding it out to him, I said, "This is more important, Zulu. This could be our future."

He looked at the slab curiously. "What is it?"

"Copper," I replied.

"And what's copper?" he questioned, his small fingers tracing the green lines etched across the stone.

"It's a metal, Zulu," I explained. "And it's valuable. You see this stone? With the right treatment, we can extract pure copper from it. And copper can be used to make a lot of things - weapons, jewelry, tools..."

"Jewelry?" Zulu interrupted, confusion writ on his face.

I chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Yes, jewelry. You know how I sometimes wear that band around my arm? Or how mother has those animal tooth earrings she treasures? Those are pieces of jewelry."

Zulu looked even more confused now. "So, you're saying that all that can come from this rock?"

I nodded. "It's not exactly a rock, Zulu. It's an ore, which means it contains metal inside it. But yes, to answer your question, all of that can come from this."

"But how?"

"Well, it's a bit complicated, Zulu. You see, we have to heat it very, very hot. That process is called smelting. And after smelting, we are left with pure copper."

The young boy looked at the slab in my hand, then back at me, his eyes wide with wonder. "Wow! That's amazing, Tak!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his astonished expression. "Yes, it is, Zulu. And that's why I've been so busy lately. I want to learn how to do all this. I want to help our tribe become better."

He nodded, a newfound respect in his eyes. "I want to help too, Tak. I want to learn."

His eagerness filled me with warmth. "And you will, Zulu. But first, let's get back home. It's getting late."

As we walked home, the sky now a deep blue, I couldn't help but think about the future. The discovery of copper was just the beginning.

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As Zulu and I approached our humble hut, I saw Maeve, my younger sister, darting towards us. Her auburn hair bounced with each step, her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Where have you two been all day?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"We were making a sundial," Zulu blurted out, his eyes shining with pride.

Maeve cocked her head to the side, "A sun...what?"

"A sundial," Zulu began explaining, "It's something Tak made. It uses the sun to tell time."

Her interest piqued, Maeve turned to me. "Can I see it?"

I retrieved the sundial from my basket and handed it to her. She observed it closely, her small fingers tracing the notches I had carved.

"Interesting," she murmured, handing it back to me.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Were you with mother today, Maeve?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I was with Aisling. We were learning about different herbs and their healing properties."

"Is it fun?" Zulu asked, his curiosity obvious.

Maeve shrugged, "It's interesting. I like learning about how things in nature can help us feel better."

Our conversation was interrupted by our stomachs growling. We all chuckled, realizing how late it had gotten.

After we had eaten, I brought out the wooden tablets I had carved. Each one was etched with symbols representing different numbers.

"Have you two been practicing your numbers?" I asked.

Both of them nodded, their faces serious. "Yes, Tak. We have been," Maeve confirmed.

"Good. That's very good," I praised. Numbers, like copper, were another piece of the puzzle to a better future. We needed to understand them, use them.

As the night grew darker, we sat together, practicing numbers, talking about the sundial and the healing herbs. My two siblings were getting good at counting to thirty, and adding small numbers together. Subtracting them still had some work to be done, but it was all progressing in the right direction.

"Alright, let's call it a night," I said, after another round of number practice.

As we got ready for bed, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. Today had been productive. As I closed my eyes, I couldn't help but picture a large tribe with brick buildings, roads of stone, that constantly grew and progressed. I wanted to no longer be the one who came up with all the ideas and innovations, instead, I taught the children of our tribes so they could guide us to a better future.

The following morning, I rose with the first light of dawn, the chirping of birds acting as my natural alarm. I quietly tiptoed past my sleeping siblings, careful not to wake them. Maeve's auburn curls sprawled over her face, while Zulu lay on his side, a small pout on his face even in sleep. A small, affectionate smile formed on my lips as I stepped outside, greeted by the cool morning air.

I had one thing on my agenda today; testing the sundial. I had spent hours, sculpting it and it was finally time to put it to work. Holding my breath, I placed the sundial on a clear patch of ground, making sure it was aligned correctly.

As the sun began its ascent, a small sliver of light fell onto the sundial. With each passing minute, the shadow moved. The sundial was working. A wave of relief washed over me, and I couldn't suppress the grin that spread across my face. This could be a game-changer for us.

With the sundial working as planned, it was time to share this discovery with the tribe. But who to show first? Joran, the tribe's blacksmith, would surely appreciate the practicality of the device, and Mako, our newly appointed leader, would understand its significance for the tribe. Decision made, I picked up the sundial and headed towards the village center.

Mako was, as usual, deep in thought. His cool brown eyes were narrowed in concentration, and his hands were gesturing animatedly as he spoke to a group of tribe members. As for Joran, he was hammering away at a piece of stone at the edge of the center, his broad back gleaming with sweat.

I approached Mako first. "Mako, I have something to show you," I said, holding out the sundial. I explained how it worked, how it could help us tell the time more accurately. Mako listened intently, his brows furrowing as he processed the information.

"It's impressive, Tak," he said, a smile finally breaking through his serious demeanor. "You never cease to amaze me."

With Mako's approval, I turned towards Joran. The blacksmith paused his work to examine the sundial, his blue eyes flickering with interest. After a brief explanation, Joran was just as impressed as Mako.

I stood beside Joran, watching his eyes roam over the sundial's intricate details with admiration. His large, scarred hands held the device with a gentleness that contrasted his burly exterior.

"This could change everything," he murmured, "This, Tak, it's not just a tool. It's a glimpse of the future. A better, more efficient future." His eyes flickered up to meet mine, the same spark of excitement glowing within them.

"We could make one on a larger scale, for the entire tribe," I suggested, watching his reaction closely. "And smaller ones, for the hunters and foragers. It would be a way to carry time with them, to understand when to return, or when to find shelter."

Joran nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the sundial. "Yes, it makes sense. They would be able to plan their day more efficiently, knowing the time. A brilliant idea, Tak. I would like to learn how to make this, if you're willing to teach."

I smiled at his enthusiasm, feeling a surge of pride at his words. "Of course, Joran. I'd be happy to teach you. We can start tomorrow, perhaps?"

"Sounds good," Joran agreed, carefully handing the sundial back to me.

Turning to Mako, I introduced the second part of my plan. "Mako, I have another idea," I started, my heart pounding with excitement. "We could use clay to build our homes. It would make them sturdier, more durable against the elements."

Mako raised an eyebrow, his face showing interest. "And how many people would you need for this endeavor, Tak?"

"Not many," I replied, thinking it over. "Maybe two or three extra hands to help gather the clay. The more challenging part will be shaping and drying the bricks, but I believe we can do it."

Mako studied me for a moment before slowly nodding his approval. "Very well, Tak. I will speak with the others and arrange for some volunteers to help you. This... it's a good plan. It's clear you've given it a lot of thought."

I felt a warmth spread through me, relief mingling with anticipation. Mako's approval meant a lot, and with Joran's support, I felt confident that we could bring these ideas to fruition.

"How long do you think it will take to gather people, Mako?" I asked, my mind already jumping ahead to the next steps. Gathering clay, creating bricks, and teaching Joran how to craft a sundial. It was a lot, but it was exciting too. It felt like we were on the brink of something important, something that would change our lives for the better.

Mako's eyes seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before he replied, "Not long, Tak. Once the hunters return from their trip, we should have enough hands to help you. We just need to explain the importance of this task to them."

I nodded, appreciating his confidence in my plans. It was heartening to know that he was supportive of these changes. That he was willing to stand by me as we tried to introduce these new concepts to our tribe.

"That sounds good to me," I replied, a satisfied smile creeping onto my face. I felt a wave of anticipation, a strange, exhilarating blend of excitement and nervousness. But it was a good kind of nervousness. The kind that comes from standing at the start of a new adventure, knowing that the road ahead might be tough but also promising.

"Then it's settled," Mako said, his voice resolute. "I'll speak to the hunters when they return. In the meantime, Tak, keep working on your ideas. The tribe needs fresh perspectives like yours."

With that, he extended his hand towards me, a clear sign of his trust and respect. I accepted his gesture, gripping his hand firmly in response.

"Thank you, Mako. I won't let you down."

As I turned to leave, Mako called out, "Tak," I turned around, meeting his gaze, "The tribe believes in you. We are with you."

With a quick nod, I turned to leave, heading back towards the river where I would continue my work. As I walked, my mind buzzed with plans and strategies.

As I reached the river, I set down my tools and gazed at the sun slowly climbing the sky. Time, once an elusive concept, was becoming more tangible, more manageable.

Just like the sun's journey across the sky, we too were on a journey. A journey of growth and progress. And I was ready to lead the way.