Jack woke to the sound of hushed voices and the distant howling of wolves. He was still an outsider among the tribe, and he knew that his place here was not yet secure. The young hunter who had challenged him the night before was watching him again, his gaze sharp with suspicion. The rest of the tribe, while not openly hostile, regarded Jack as an unknown—a question that had yet to be answered.
That morning, Garrak approached Jack and handed him a crude but sturdy spear. The older hunter motioned toward the woods, then pointed to the fresh tracks in the snow. A hunt was beginning, and Jack was expected to join. This was his first real test.
Jack tightened his grip on the spear and nodded. He followed Garrak and a small group of hunters into the dense, snow-covered forest. The cold bit at his face, but adrenaline kept him moving. They moved swiftly, tracking their prey—a large caribou—through the frozen terrain. The hunters moved in near silence, their steps deliberate, their eyes scanning every sign in the snow.
Jack did his best to imitate their movements, though he knew he was not as graceful. He had learned some tracking skills on his own, but these hunters had been doing it their whole lives. They could read the land like a story written in the snow. He would have to prove that he could keep up.
After an hour of tracking, they found the caribou grazing near a frozen stream. The hunters spread out, positioning themselves for an ambush. Garrak signaled to Jack, pointing to a spot where he should take position. Jack crouched low, his breath coming out in steady puffs of mist.
Then, the attack began. The hunters launched their spears with practiced precision. The caribou bolted, but Jack had anticipated its movement. He hurled his spear with all his strength, aiming for its flank. The weapon struck true, sinking deep into the animal's side. The caribou staggered, giving the others the chance to close in. Within moments, the hunt was over.
Jack approached the fallen beast, his heart pounding. The other hunters inspected the kill, and Garrak gave him an approving nod. The young hunter who had doubted him scowled but said nothing. Jack had earned his place in the hunt.
Back at the village, the tribe gathered around as the hunters returned with their prize. The meat would feed them for days, and Jack had played a role in securing it. As they roasted the first cuts over the fire, Garrak spoke to the elder woman, nodding toward Jack. She regarded him with a thoughtful expression, then finally gave a slow, approving nod.
But Jack knew that one hunt would not be enough to erase their doubts. He spent the evening observing the tribe more closely. The hunters exchanged stories by the fire, reenacting past victories with exaggerated gestures and laughter. The women prepared the meat with skilled hands, preserving parts of the kill by smoking it over low flames. Children ran between the tents, playing a game with small bones, their laughter cutting through the cold night air.
Jack felt a strange mixture of belonging and distance. He was here, but not truly one of them yet.
The next day, another test awaited. The same young hunter, whom Jack now knew as Torrek, approached him with a dark glare. He spoke in his language, his tone sharp, then gestured toward a large pile of firewood stacked at the edge of the village. It had been knocked over, some logs scattered across the snow.
Jack understood the challenge without needing words. He was expected to contribute, to take part in the labor of the tribe. Not wanting to show weakness, he set to work immediately, gathering the heavy logs and stacking them neatly. His muscles burned, but he refused to stop. The other villagers watched, whispering among themselves. Some nodded approvingly; others remained skeptical.
By midday, Jack had finished. His breath came in heavy puffs, but he straightened his back, meeting Torrek's gaze. The younger hunter gave a grudging nod before turning away. It wasn't friendship, but it was something.
That evening, Garrak sat beside Jack at the fire. He spoke in his language, slowly, pointing at objects and repeating their names. Jack listened intently, repeating the words as best he could. The tribe might not fully accept him yet, but he was determined to learn. If he was to survive here—if he was to belong—he would need to understand not just their way of life, but their language, their culture.
As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Jack realized something. He had been thrust into this world against his will, but survival was no longer just about staying alive. It was about finding his place in this strange, ancient world.
For the first time since his arrival, he felt like that might be possible.
But he knew there would be more tests ahead.