A band of men sat huddled in a cave
Where coals of fire glowed warm and red.
Boy lay curled on a bed of leaves
But he sat up when an old man said: "This thought keeps spinning in my head.
There must be caves just like our own
Somewhere
And other axes made of stone
Somewhere
And other men like me."
Though only Boy shares his dream, the old man leaves the tribe to search for what the world may hold. Boy does...