Hunter, Gatherer

The man whose skull had a certain impact, and now resides in the British Natural History Museum, known as the Cheddar Man, once strode the wild woods of Palaeolithic Britain, spear in his hand. He was dressed in deerskins, and sought more of them, perhaps from the same herd. He walked in a regular, loping stride, his ears attuned to the faintest rustle among the autumn leaves . He was known in his tribe as a great hunter, one who provided for his very extended family. 

     He had been walking for a long time, most of that day. He paused to eat some of the nuts and berries in a pouch he carried at his belt. Sometimes, he thought he detected a movement behind him, but concentrated on the herd in front. There would be plenty of meat and skins, even from one. He judged the wind, waited for the right moment, and hurled his spear. It pinned the beast through the neck. He moved swiftly over to kill it. The dying red rays of the sun painted him in a gory costume as he went about the process. His spear lay by his side. He turned to look for it, then realised it had gone. He stood up by the stones, now casting evening shadows. There was a movement on the other side of the circle, then he stood transfixed, as the stag had been. ‘You!’ spat a female voice he knew well. ‘You and that other woman!’