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A prehistoric man sits by a campfire in a cave with a cave painting.

A prehistoric man sits by a campfire in a cave with a cave painting.

I wake up on cold fur laid over stone. The fire crackles softly beside me, casting a warm glow on the cave wall. I see the red outline of an animal I painted days ago. My fingers twitch—dry, cracked, dusty. Smoke drifts upward. The smell of ash and damp earth fills my nose. My chest rises slowly. My legs feel sore from yesterday’s hunt. Tools lie scattered—a spear, bones, sharp stones. I hear wind outside. I don’t move yet. I listen. I breathe. I survive. Ver mais