To the New Home (4)
The moment I had shoes, the difference in how far I could travel became immediately obvious.
Before, I had to walk as much as possible, then rest whenever I grew tired or injured my feet. That inevitably slowed us down. Especially when the ground was too rough or sharp; we had to detour around those areas entirely.
But with shoes made from papyrus, everything changed.
The footwear protected my feet from hard, pointed surfaces and dramatically reduced fatigue. The result was striking. What used to take two full days of travel I could now cover in half a day.
“...We can already see the Red Hills. Incredible,” Father said, staring at the red rock mountains with a dazed expression.
Our bodies were now adorned with various items woven from plant fibers—crossbody bags made of papyrus and straw hats. I had crafted them out of boredom one evening after sunset while playing with leftover papyrus. When others saw them, they asked me to make some for them too. Before long, the practice had spread throughout the group.
When I first made the shoes, I had been filled with worry about what consequences might follow. But watching the children run around without hurting their feet made it feel... less dangerous now. I still felt uneasy, of course, but I told myself this much was probably acceptable. At least these inventions couldn’t be used to harm anyone.
Father placed a hand on my shoulder and pointed in one direction.
“That’s where we’ll live during this dry season.”
What he indicated was a small basin surrounded by large rocks. I didn’t know how such terrain had formed, but it was the kind of place that could be made secure simply by blocking the entrance.
“My grandfather’s father discovered this home. He was being chased by a pack of hyenas and found this place one night when the morning dew was forming.”
The ground we stepped onto carried a deep sense of lived-in presence, even though no one had lived here for a long time. But what caught my eye was something else entirely.
A noticeably lower area a short distance from the basin, where the earth was darkly stained and rotting.
“...What’s that place?”
I had a guess, but when I asked anyway, Father answered as if he had been waiting for the question.
“Our group has several rules we must follow.”
He pointed at the dark patch of ground.
“While we live here, everyone must relieve themselves there.”
“What if someone doesn’t?”
“First time, they get beaten. Second time, they’re tied to a tree and beaten. Third time, they’re exiled.”
Harsher punishment than I expected.
Just from that, I could tell they understood the concept of a toilet and considered it important.
“...Didn’t you do this at Athi?”
“Athi didn’t have ground like this. That spot doesn’t hold water, and waste dries quickly. That’s why the smell disappears fast. Bad smells spread sickness. Besides, we don’t stay at Athi for long.”
…Miasma theory, all the way back here?
Then again, it wasn’t strange. People had always avoided foul odors long before the miasma theory was proposed.
“Are there other rules?”
“Of course.”
Father calmly listed the group’s rules one by one.
One: Hunting is done together, and the catch is shared together.
Two: No one leaves the home at night.
Three: Mothers carrying young and the young themselves do not hunt. However, if the group is starving, it is permitted.
Four: Waste must only be left in the designated place.
Five: Food must not be brought into the sleeping area.
Six: Fire may only be lit in the center.
Seven: Resolve conflicts through talk first. If that fails, bring the matter to the leader.
Eight: Unknown plants and fruits must first be shown to an adult.
Nine: At least two people must move together near water.
Ten: Do not keep the dead inside the home. They must be burned or taken far away.
A full ten rules. Every single one directly connected to survival and health.
I had known there were rules in this era, but I thought they were all unspoken. At Athi, people didn’t fight. A well-made stone tool was worth two rabbits. When taking embers from the Eternal Fire, there was an order to be followed.
Those rules were never written down, and no one explicitly taught them, yet everyone naturally followed them through atmosphere and upbringing.
But here it was different. Father’s group had clear, explicit rules. They had established the minimum standards necessary for the group to survive.
If they had writing, surely these would have been the very first things recorded.
While I was thinking that, Father clapped his hands loudly.
Clap.
At the sound, everyone who had been scattered lifted their heads at once.
“Wake the house,” Father said shortly.
As if they had been waiting for the command, the people began to move.
Some cleared away the dry branches and stones piled inside the basin. Others scraped out the old ashes from the hearth. Still others went to the entrance and began dragging thick branches and thorny bushes.
At first it looked like simple cleaning. But as I watched carefully, I realized every movement had its own order.
Sleeping area toward the inside. Fire pit in the center. Food preparation on the outer side. Bones and shells discarded in the direction the wind blew. And the place where children could play was a wide patch of ground near the hearth, always within the adults’ sight.
“...It’s all decided,” I muttered.
Father nodded as if it were obvious.
“If we don’t decide, we fight. If we fight, we get hurt. If we get hurt, we die.”
A simple statement.
But also an undeniably true one.
I looked at the group with fresh eyes.
The people I had seen at Athi were undoubtedly primitive. They had no writing, couldn’t count properly, and measured seasons by the position of fingers against the stars.
But that didn’t mean they lacked thought.
They had observed, remembered, and turned those observations into rules in order to survive.
If you relieve yourself anywhere, it smells. Where there is smell, insects gather. Where insects gather, sickness spreads. If you leave food in the sleeping area, small animals come. Where small animals go, large ones follow. If you go out alone at night, you don’t come back. If you go to the water alone, crocodiles or predators drag you away.
All those deaths and mistakes had become their rules.
Perhaps these ten rules had been bought with someone’s life.
Once I thought of it that way, the words that had sounded slightly ridiculous moments ago no longer seemed ridiculous at all.
“Pretty Eyes.”
Father called my name.
“Yes?”
“You must follow them too.”
I tilted my head at that.
That was obvious. I was already a member of this group, and so were Mother and Tall Bird’s people.
“Isn’t that obvious? I don’t want to die either.”
In this era, losing one’s group was the same as dying.
…Of course, there were exceptions like Mother, who had raised me alone. But that was literally an exception.
Father nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. Then, after a brief hesitation, he spoke again with a more serious expression than before.
“And you must teach what you know.”
“...What I know?”
“You know many strange things. You made handles, used stones well, created bones that make animal sounds, leather that makes noise, and even clothes for the feet.”
Father looked down at my feet.
The papyrus-woven shoes were already dirty with mud and dust. But thanks to them, my feet were perfectly fine.
“Such things cannot be known only by you. Everyone must know them.”
He continued slowly.
“That will be your role.”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
Most of what I had made until now had been to solve immediate inconveniences.
I made stone knives with handles because fist axes and flakes were hard to use. I created bullroarers and drums to drive away elephants. I made shoes because my feet hurt, and bags because carrying loads was difficult. I made something like a hat because the sunlight was harsh and rain stung the eyes.
And though there had only been one so far, I had already seen the side effects.
I still remembered it vividly. The baby elephant writhing in pain from the spear wound, the mothers crying mournfully as they watched over it, and their backs as they left without even time to properly mourn their dead calf.
Only then did I realize I was still afraid of this.
I had become afraid that our group—people—might commit sins because of the knowledge I shared.
It might be arrogance. It might be stubbornness.
But was it really all right?
Was it acceptable for me to casually teach them knowledge that humanity wouldn’t obtain for millions of years?
There was so much I could teach them right now.
If I made atlatls, even a human arm could pierce the flesh and muscle of giant animals. If I taught them how to shape and fire clay, they could store food for much longer. With fishing rods, they could catch fish without entering the water. With traps, they could catch more animals with less effort.
If all of that became known, this group would undoubtedly grow strong.
They might no longer be called a ‘group,’ but a ‘tribe.’
Up to that point, it sounded like a good thing.
But.
‘Will that power truly never be turned against people?’
The moment that thought dug into my mind, my body went cold.
War.
A word I had experienced in my previous life and heard about constantly in the news in the modern era. War had always existed in human life.
There was a site called Jebel Sahaba. An extremely ancient burial ground discovered in northern Sudan, near the Egyptian border along the Nile River basin.
The bones of the people found there bore wounds that appeared to have been made by arrowheads and spear tips. There were men, women, and children.
Some called it the earliest evidence of war in human history. Others said it wasn’t a single war, but the result of repeated conflicts.
Either way, one thing was clear.
Humans had been killing humans since a very long time ago.
Because of hunger. Because of fear. To claim land, water, and food. Or simply because the other party was different from themselves.
While studying paleoanthropology, I had seen and learned about such traces.
Wounds left on bones. Traces of burning. People buried together in one place.
So I knew.
How easily humans could become cruel. And how far, how deeply tools could push that cruelty.
“......”
When I remained silent, Father slowly bent his knees. He looked at me at eye level.
I had grown quite a bit by now. I wasn’t that much shorter than Father anymore.
But why did he look so big right now?
“And all of that will become the power with which you lead the group.”
“...What?”
I looked at Father in surprise. He smiled lightly.
“I am already old, Pretty Eyes.”
With rough but warm hands, he brushed my forehead and the area around my eyes.
“It would have been good if we had met sooner, but your mother would not have forgiven that.”
Father smiled bitterly for a moment. Then he looked at me again with firm eyes.
“Still, I know. You are my child, and you are very clever.”
His voice was low but steady.
“So someday this group will become yours. The Quick Foot group will become the Pretty Eyes group, and the wisdom you possess will become the power that leads the group.”
It was such a natural statement.
As if it had been decided long ago. As if it were as inevitable as the sun rising, rain falling, and the dry season coming.
Father looked at me with resolute eyes and said,
“Therefore, do not hide what you know. The group is the power that keeps each other alive, but it will soon be your power as well.”
“...My power?”
“Yes.”
Father nodded.
“Do you know what the role of an alpha is?”
I thought for a moment, then answered quietly.
“To give everything for the group.”
That was the life of an alpha I had learned about in my previous life.
A short but brutally heavy life. One where you always had to stand at the front, be the first to get hurt, and remain behind for everyone else.
Father nodded as if my words were correct.
“Yes. The alpha protects the group. The alpha must make choices that keep the group alive.”
He paused for a moment, then asked again.
“Then, Pretty Eyes. Do you know what the role of the group is?”
“The group’s… role?”
I couldn’t answer immediately.
To me, the group had been something to protect. Not something that made demands.
I had only thought that I must protect them, feed them, and help them live a little more comfortably.
But Father’s thinking was different.
“Obedience.”
The word was short and heavy.
I swallowed my breath. Father did not stop speaking even after seeing my expression.
“The group obeys the leader. They listen to the leader’s words and become the leader’s hands and feet. That allows the leader to do what he cannot do alone.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
“The leader protects the group. The group turns the leader into strength. Only then can everyone live.”
Only then did I begin to understand a little.
The group itself was a single creature. A great being with a brain called the alpha and limbs called the group.
Father spoke in a low voice.
“Pretty Eyes. You don’t have to be afraid.”
His eyes looked straight into mine. In his brown pupils, my purple eyes were reflected.
“I don’t know exactly what you’re afraid of, but the group you teach and protect will become your hands and feet.”
At those words, it felt as if light had pierced through my head. A light that shattered the frustration I had been carrying inside.
Ah… I see. I didn’t need to fear that they would go astray.
What I feared wasn’t the spread of tools. What I feared was people who possessed tools but didn’t know where to direct them.
Strength itself wasn’t a sin. What became a sin was the absence of a line to restrain that strength.
Therefore.
I just needed to become the brake. I just needed to become the line.
As their alpha, as their leader, as their chief.
I simply needed to teach them where that line was.
Because that was the role of an alpha.
Translation: Location and images of the observed osseous lesions on Jebel Sahaba skeleton "JS 14".
Jebel Sahaba is considered one of the oldest known sites of collective violence, or war, discovered by humanity. The cemetery, estimated to have formed between approximately 18,600 BCE and 13,400 BCE, yielded a total of 61 human remains. These were not formally buried but interred in the mud of a lagoon. What stands out most is that the remains—regardless of sex or age—showed signs of injury from attacks. Damage caused by weapons was confirmed even on the bones of women and children, and some remains showed evidence of healed wounds. This suggests the conflicts were not a single event but the result of repeated violence. In other words, even before the advent of agriculture, while still living as nomadic hunter-gatherers, humans were already turning weapons against one another.