The tribe moved slowly, forming a row across the steppe. The chief, always at the front, walked with his eyes fixed on the horizon, carrying his weapons: two acacia wood spears with flint tips bound with hemp fibres, another two made of yew wood, two sharp knives crafted from buffalo ribs, and a pair of hand axes also made of flint.

The man immediately behind him marched at a short distance, carrying similar gear and dragging a heavy bundle of hides with some belongings. Beyond them, three women walked in single file, though close together. All three held babies in one arm, while with the other hand they held onto other children. Following them were two young women without children, and the emaciated procession was closed by three men, two of whom were engaged in conversation.

There could be a distance of about one hundred steps between the chief and the last individual. The midday sun beat down mercilessly on their heads, causing them to take off their hides and tie them around their waists. All individuals were marching naked except for their loincloths; even the women, save one that remained dressed despite the heat.

Vultures circled above in silence, sensing the tribe’s imminent demise. Only the cries of the children seemed to disturb the stillness of the summer afternoon.

However, they were not alone. Up there, on the pinnacle of the rocky spire shaped by the wind over ages, two other men watched them closely.

“It’s Samman. I have no doubt,” one of them said, while the other nodded.

“Why have they returned?” the latter asked.

“They found no game, Tabal. The southern lands must be even more dry.”

The two fell silent for a moment and continued observing.

“Why are they so scattered? If wild beasts attacked them, they’d be lost.”

“They’re exhausted,” replied Unnum. “They don’t care anymore. Better to die quickly than be devoured by hunger and thirst.”

The boy watched the tribe’s slow and listless walk, and the bowed heads confirmed what the leader had said. He added, “I don’t think they’ll make it to the next moon if they don’t find water.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “But they’ll find it! They’re heading straight for our well. Let’s go!”

“Where to?”

“To kill that bastard once and for all.”

“Why, Unnum? You could make peace with him. The more men we have, the better chance we have to survive. Wouldn’t it be better to merge with them?”

“Come on!” the chief insisted, and Tabal had no choice but to comply.

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The two ran towards the rest of the tribe, and the young boy, more sensible than his leader, couldn’t help but think about the mistake it would be to fight those men. Not because of the risk of defeat, as they outnumbered them, but because it was more advantageous to increase the tribe’s numbers at a time when they had already lost many members. The larger the clan, the greater the chances of survival in a world teeming with wild beasts, and also the better and more effective ways to corner prey.

But no, Unnum couldn’t forgive his brother for that offense, and now he saw the perfect opportunity to settle the score. Tabal kept running, but he couldn’t stop looking around. Now they were crossing a small acacia forest, the same one they had passed through when they reached that summit. Tigers with sabre-toothed teeth often lurked in those places, and his hunter instinct told him there might be one around. Venturing there alone was a reckless move, and it made him think again about the wisdom of merging with those people. When beasts attacked, if there was no fire, it was best to stick together like a tight group, with children in the centre well-covered, and pound the ground and scream loudly to make the animal think they were a single individual and believe it couldn’t succeed in an attack. It was a strategy that almost invariably worked, even against multiple attackers. All they had to do was stay united until they reached a high place or a cave.

Fortunately, they encountered no tigers, although Tabal could hear the growl of a bear in the distance.

On the other hand, it wasn’t a good time to start a war, with all the tribe members camped at that oasis. The usual practice would have been for women and children to stay in the cave to be safe from beasts while the men fought.

Actually, it was the norm during hunting expeditions. They would set out before sunrise to track prey, attempting to corner them. If the prey escaped, they would relentlessly pursue them until the exhausted animals could be killed.

Tabal thought it was fortunate that Baloc, the main god of the skies, had endowed men with endurance in running. Herbivores were faster, but they tired out sooner. Chasing a deer or a gazelle for a thousand steps yielded no results, but the animal had to stop to rest after that time. Meanwhile, the men regained the advantage until, getting closer, the creature resumed the race and took another lead. And so, with perseverance, the prey had to stop to rest more often, and the men closed in more and more until the animal couldn’t take a single step and collapsed on the ground, victim of a heart attack. The pursuit could last a whole morning or sometimes even the entire day. But Tabal didn’t mind running. He was usually the one leading the races and delivering the lethal spear thrust to the prey’s neck if it was still alive. The worst part was dragging it back to the cave for the rest of the tribe to eat. That was the most tedious part of his job, and the reason why tribes should be larger.

When he was a child, his tribe had a lot of people. Women and their children, along with a small contingent of warriors, followed the hunters and joined them to eat the prey where it was hunted. It didn’t matter if they arrived the next day. The meat was waiting for everyone.

But now, they were going through a tough time due to the scarcity of men. Everyone had to follow the prey because all were needed to encircle and corner the animals. This left women and children vulnerable, forced to stay in the caves, safe from wild beasts.

As if that wasn’t enough, the drought had lasted too long, and prey was scarce. Hunting expeditions were becoming longer, and women and children had to subsist in the meantime with the meagre fruits they gathered here and there until the men returned with fresh meat.

What was once Calem’s numerous tribe, the father of Unnum and Samman, had dwindled to less than half due to hunger and, let’s say it, the relentless wars the brothers waged against each other.

Tabal was now going to fight against those who were once members of his own tribe, and not only was he going to do it against his will, but he was also going against common sense and logic, driven only by old family feuds long forgotten by time.

But he had no choice. In that distant era, life and death accompanied both men and women at all times, and no one was sure if they would see the next sunrise. To fight or die, to survive or perish, that was the daily dilemma faced by humanity, with the sole objective of making it through to the next day.