Anika woke to a misty day with birds screeching their mournful song. "Curlews." Anika muttered angrily. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked up at the tree in front of her. She counted the gashes made in it. "I've been here for six months." She thought in surprise. Anika looked around her hut-like place. A few branches with animal skins draped over. A woven rug for a bed, a large tree stump for a chair or working space, an animal fat candle burning in the corner. The gashes in the tree ahead marked the weeks she had been in the bush. Anika stepped outside her home and breathed in the cool, early morning air.

Anika stepped back inside and prepared for the day. She took her sharp hunting spear off the hook and tucked her pocket knife in her backpack, which she placed on her back, along with some left over cooked meat wrapped in leaves and a candle, just in case. She stepped outside again and ran along her dirt track, into the heart of the bush.

Brown and green flashed past as Anika ran through the bush, spear in hand, looking for the slightest movement for food. The familiar trees, valleys and caves surrounded her. She stopped for a moment to think. The food supply had run very low this winter. Today, she was sure to find food. She felt it in her blood. And also her sister... "No," Anika thought. "My sister is dead. It is time to move on."