Episode 1 - Drought (1)
Our group's numbers had doubled in an instant. And that meant we needed twice as much food.
We'd always pooled our food and shared it communally. It started with me trying to distribute our scarce rations as fairly as possible. Inevitably, that sparked some resistance from a few individuals. But everything changed once we had fire. The whole group learned about cooking. Whether it was meat, fruit, or insects, anything roasted over the flames tasted infinitely better. From then on, they wanted to grill everything in sight.
The problem was that cooking over an open flame wasn't as simple as it seemed. Let your guard down for a second, and the outside charred while the inside stayed raw. Fruit turned to mush in moments, insects blackened instantly, and meat—misplaced on the fire—would just drip fat before collapsing into a lump of charcoal.
So roles naturally divided. A few with a knack for it stayed by the fire, tending the cooking, while the rest scoured the forest and plains for food. The gathered haul piled up in one spot, and we shared it together.
There were clear advantages. The same amount of food, when cooked and divided, filled more bellies. But the flip side was brutal: to make it work, we had to gather enough for the entire group. And that was getting harder by the day.
"…Leader. No more fruit."
"Mushrooms are all gone too."
I rubbed my face at their words. The dry season was intensifying, the jungle no longer bearing fruit, mushrooms withering away. Considering those two made up the bulk of our diet, it was serious.
"…Then go farther tomorrow. Not two at a time—three."
"Got it, Leader."
The two shuffled off slowly, but my mind wasn't eased. Going farther probably wouldn't help. We weren't the only ones foraging in this jungle, and the parched land couldn't sustain us all much longer.
Mouths to feed had doubled, but the forest had stopped producing. Water still flowed here, letting us hold on… but even that spring was shrinking.
Then came a massive thud, and someone hauled in a huge antelope.
"Uooo! Meat! Caught it!!"
"Uooo! Meat! Meat! Meat!"
"Incredible! Another one!"
Caesar had brought it down. He wielded his bola like an extension of his arm now, taking down beasts bigger than himself solo with just that and a spear.
But even that massive kill couldn't make me smile.
"How's the hunting lately?"
"More plentiful! Swarming the water's edge!"
My expression hardened further. Beasts crowding the river meant water was vanishing nearby. They had no choice but to venture into our hunting grounds, rife with rivals and predators.
"Anything off about the water?"
"Off?"
Caesar tilted his head, so I explained slowly. "Less water, more mud, weird smell, warmer than usual—anything like that."
He pondered, then shook his head sideways. "Hmm… not sure."
"If you're not sure, fine. Don't hunt alone next time."
"Why…? Okay. Don't glare. I'll do it."
I shot him one look, and he flinched, shoulders hunching as he turned away. I sighed.
Prey flocking in might seem like good news at first. But the real issue was we weren't the only hunters. Where prey gathered, predators followed by the scent. Not just the Megantereon that hit us before—bigger cats like Homo therium or Dinofelis could show. Hyena packs, swift cheetahs, even lions. The hungrier they got, the bolder.
Normally they'd keep their distance, wary of each other. But with water and food concentrated, they'd risk it. And following that river upstream would lead straight to our nest.
Should we abandon this place…?
I dismissed it immediately. No. We'd die of thirst.
From what the Red Face Alpha told us, this was one of the last spots with water around. The jungle itself was drying up fast—some areas already dead.
We were trapped. The day would come to head to the plains. But not yet.
Our bodies suited the forest better. Arms for climbing, hands for grasping branches and plucking fruit. But our backs were still hunched, and we lacked the stamina to roam the open grasslands all day.
Above all, the plains offered no cover. In the jungle, you could climb trees, hide in brush, use terrain to evade. Out there? Speed ruled. Size ruled. And we weren't strong enough to survive it yet.
If we can't leave, we endure.
The question was how.
I walked to the stream a short distance from our nest.
"…The water's way down."
It was worse up close. Wet marks on the bank showed the level had dropped nearly halfway. A bit more, and it'd be a pathetic mud slick, unworthy of the name stream.
I knelt, scooping water in my palm. Thick with earth smell, subtly warmer than before. What seemed eternal was drying.
If we held till the rains, we might make it. But months remained. If this persisted… a third of the group would die before the first drop fell.
That grim thought gripped me—
When a shriek tore through the jungle like ripping flesh.
One of ours.
My mind iced over. I flung the water aside and spun, roots launching me, vines gripped, branches vaulted as I raced back.
By arrival, it was over.
Blood soaked the ground. Trampled earth, splintered firewood stacks, overturned grass baskets. Chunks of flesh and fur scattered. In a vast pool of blood lay a severed right arm, alone.
A long drag mark of gore vanished into the jungle depths.
The traces told the tale.
Speechless, I scanned, then lifted the arm. Right hand. The whole back burned ugly— the one I'd smeared with mud after it stupidly plunged into the fire.
Ace's hand.
"…What happened."
My voice came out low, cold—even to me.
Caesar leaned against a tree, teeth gritted. His own right arm gashed deep, blood streaming; shoulder clawed vivid.
"It came back."
"It?"
"Big teeth… one-eyed. It attacked us."
Chill raced my spine. Big teeth. One-eyed. One monster fit.
Megantereon. Among Africa's deadliest then. The one I'd gouged an eye from.
It had returned.
"Casualties?"
Caesar bowed his head. "…He fought to the end. Arm severed, then dragged off."
The one who fought last was surely Ace. Nothing else explained such fierce marks.
"…Probably dead."
Caesar nodded silently to my murmur.
Not the sharpest, Ace. Told not to, he'd try once—and get hurt plenty. But not die like this.
Dozens packed the nest, yet silence reigned heavier than ever. Young whimpered in terror; adults avoided eyes. Even the ones chattering over meat moments ago now sniffed blood mute.
I set Ace's arm down gently.
Why now? The riverbank teemed with easier prey. No need to risk climbing here.
The answer hit without pondering.
Me.
I'd taken its eye. To a predator, eyes were life. Lose one, depth perception warped, half vision dead. In nature, that meant failed hunts. Failed hunts meant starvation.
"Was the big teeth skinny?"
"Hmm… yeah. Skinnier than last time."
As expected. It hadn't hunted properly in ages. Starved since the eye. To a starving beast, primates were easy pickings.
No claws to rend hide, no fangs to pierce throats. All we had: flee to trees, hurl stones, overwhelm with numbers.
A snapped bola lay discarded. Caesar had resisted. But even one-eyed, it dodged or snapped it.
And it wasn't just hunger driving it. Grudge too. A survivor maimed by me—the easiest, most memorable target—had come hunting revenge.
Staring blankly at the bola, Caesar nudged my shoulder.
"Leader. What now."
I looked up. The whole group watched. Males, females, elders, young. All.
Terror in their eyes, but expectation too—waiting for my words.
I closed mine briefly.
Fight? Last time was half luck. Against its power and senses, banking on twice was folly.
Flee? Where? Beyond here, no clue on water or food.
And fleeing unprepared? Just bait.
As thoughts churned—
A glint.
Black sheen flashed in my periphery. I turned. At the base of my tree, tossed aside: a black stone.
The Red Face Alpha's gift. Their leader's mark, handed to me.
Just a hard, sharp rock before—no immediate use, so stashed.
But now… I couldn't look away.
As if whispering: now's the time.