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He rose in darkness, as always, whatever the position of the sun. His first movements disturbed the nest of cozy sleeping bodies intertwined around the embers. The nest mended itself. By sense rather than sight he made his way up the rocky corridor until a lighter shadow painted the grey-black wall. He stopped there, fearful of an explosion of light.
The rock was comfortable, the earthen floor nurturing. His spirit resonated with the hardness, in harmony at higher pitch. The song went on for who knows how long. Eventually, he braved the unfamiliar and embarked into the cacophony of sound and spirit that was his worldwonderfully fearsome!

He had no name, and didn't need one. He was known only as the brave one, this appellation felt more often than spoken. It was he who spearheaded the drive for food and water, he who scouted the gathering fields, he who led the hunts. He was the foremost among equals, not less fearful than the community at large, just more willing to engage his fears.

This morning, the force that drove him out into daylight was stronger than ever before. It was as though the rocks themselves had vomited him out, apprehension for him coming as an afterthought. Their food was not exhausted, nor their water depleted. And yet he stood now on the cusp of brightness unsure of how he had so quickly arrived there, or where he was destined to go.

The lightness of the day was unsurpassed in his experience. He blinked, and blinked again. And again. Well he knew the terrain right in front of him, grassy plain where tubers were dug and berries were gathered. Today it was hot, and the shelter of the forest in the distance beckoned.

On the edge of the forest he had hunted successfully, chasing and clubbing hares with his band, stalking and spearing deer, and even once downing a wild pig as the dark and cool of evening settled in. He strode confidently and competently across the plain and found relief from the heat and light in the shade of a solitary large fig tree growing a short distance away from the woodland. There he dozed, gathering strength and direction. As with the rocks of his cave, he did not feel particularly separate from the tree that shaded him, or the forest stretching beyond. The forest, however, he did not know well. It welcomed him always, and usually intimidated him by the unknowns of its substance and power. Today, it engaged him.

He made his way to the familiar stream that ran along the perimeter of the woods, and squatted to drink. Usually

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