300,000 years ago. The dawn of man began to glow on the horizon of prehistoric Africa. The grasslands were alive with prehistoric creatures roaming, wild and free, going about their lives under the scorching sun. Life was a delicate balance, but something new was stirring in the air—the emergence of human nature. This story is about the first time man turned against himself, and how, in the midst of the chaos and bloodshed, what was known as woman sought refuge, hoping to preserve a sliver of peace. It’s a tale passed down from a tribe I once belonged to.
I lived in harmony with Lady Penelope, Parker, and the rest of our tribe—my brothers and sisters—in our small village nestled deep within Africa. Our tribe was made up of Lady Penelope, Parker, and the Tracy family: Scott, John, Virgil, Alan, Gordon, their father Jeff, and my older siblings Brains and Tin Tin. We lived peacefully, surrounded by the golden savannah, with the rustle of grasses and the distant roars of wild creatures as our daily soundtrack.
I was just a baby then, cradled in Lady Penelope's arms. She cared for me as tenderly as a mother lioness would care for her cub. We often crossed paths with another mother and child—Lucy, an Australopithecus, and her little one. Penelope would look down at me and smile softly, whispering comforting words as she watched the world unfold around us. When she wasn’t holding me close, she wandered, staring out across the African plains as though she were committing every detail of our home to her heart. She loved the wilderness, the beauty, the quiet strength of the land.
Our tribe was a mix of boys and men, save for Penelope, Tin Tin, and me. In those days, men took charge of most things—tool-making, hunting, and defending the tribe. Brains, even then, was a clever inventor, finding ways to shape tools from stone and wood. It was a simple life, one that had a rhythm of peace—until that rhythm was broken.
We had a rule, an unspoken one, passed down through survival: when food ran out, chaos began. The men, driven by hunger and desperation, turned against one another. But for a long time, that darkness never touched our tribe—until the drought came.
The savannah dried up. Water holes vanished, leaving the earth cracked and lifeless. Animals migrated far away, and we were left behind, lying under the sweltering sun, our bellies empty and our spirits fading. Penelope’s milk kept me going, but the rest of the tribe began to weaken.
One day, as we all lay in the dust, Tin Tin spoke. “Father, I’m hungry,” she said softly, her voice filled with the ache of starvation. Jeff sighed, shaking his head. “The animals have left. The big cats, the buffalo—they’re all gone. We must wait, my child...but the waiting may take longer than we can bear.”
Scott clenched his fists. “Why wait? We’re starving. There must be something we can eat!”
Penelope cradled me closer. “Sarah is getting what she needs,” she said softly, her voice like a balm in the heat. “My milk will keep her strong.”
But not all of us had that luxury. Virgil, sitting in the distance, was twitching with impatience. His eyes were hollow, and sweat dripped from his brow. Something about him was different—something unsettling. Jeff moved closer to him, slowly, trying to figure out what had changed. He reached out, but before he could touch Virgil’s shoulder, Virgil turned with a wild look in his eyes, his mouth dripping with saliva.
“Virgil?” Jeff whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Virgil snarled, baring his teeth like a wild animal. “It’s been too long. No food, no water...we’re going to die if we don’t eat. The only way to survive is to eat each other.”
A chill spread through the tribe. Everyone recoiled in horror as Virgil’s gaze swept over us, his eyes landing on me, sleeping peacefully in Penelope’s arms.
“She’ll do,” Virgil growled, stepping toward us. “Why not start with the baby?”
Penelope froze, her face ashen. “No!” she cried, clutching me tighter. “Virgil, this is madness! She’s just a child, my child!”
Tin Tin rushed forward. “You can’t, Virgil! We’re family. We’re supposed to protect each other, not destroy one another!”
But Virgil's hunger was stronger than reason. He grinned, his eyes gleaming with desperation. “Who cares about that anymore? I’m hungry, and I’ll do what I must to survive.”
Lady Penelope stood tall, trembling but determined. She stepped in front of me, shielding me from Virgil’s ravenous gaze. Parker stood by her side, tense, but ready to defend us.
“Listen to me, Virgil,” Penelope said softly, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “If you must eat someone, then take Alan. He’s the youngest of the men. But you will not touch this child, or me, or Parker.”
Virgil sneered but relented. “Very well,” he spat. “Alan will be our sacrifice.”
Alan gasped, backing away in horror, but it was too late. Virgil and his brothers descended upon him, their eyes wild with hunger. “Run!” shouted Jeff, his voice hoarse with despair. “Lady Penelope, Parker—take the baby and go! There’s no time! Run!”
Without hesitation, Penelope ran, clutching me tightly, with Parker close behind. The sounds of the savannah faded as the brothers descended into chaos behind us, the grasslands filled with the terror of survival.
Lady Penelope and Parker took refuge in a quiet thicket of bushes, far from the tribe's turmoil. Penelope clung tightly to me, her arms wrapped around me as if she could never bear to let go. My small sobs trembled through her, and she pulled me even closer, her soft voice soothing.
“There, there... it’s okay, sssshhhhhhh,” she whispered, her hand gently stroking my hair. “I’m here, sweetheart.” Her voice was a blanket of calm that wrapped around me, making me feel safe despite the fear that gnawed at my heart.
She turned to Parker, her eyes filled with concern. “What are we going to do, Parker? The tribe… they’ve turned against one another. And they want to… hurt her.” Penelope’s voice faltered as she held me tighter, her chest rising and falling with a mixture of fear and protectiveness. “She can’t survive like this. Not with them wanting to—” her voice cracked—“to hurt her.”
Parker, standing just beside us, furrowed his brow but remained steady. “I think you’re truly right, milady,” he said, his voice low yet reassuring. “This tribe is too dangerous for our little one.”
Penelope gave a small, sad nod, her fingers trembling as she brushed a tear from my cheek. She glanced back at Parker, a faint smile flickering on her lips despite the fear. “Not that we’re married, of course,” she teased softly, her blush returning for a brief, tender moment.
Parker smiled back, a light chuckle escaping him. “Of course, milady. But that’s not what matters right now.”
His tone became serious again as he knelt down beside her, his hand resting gently on Penelope’s bare shoulder. “Listen,” he began, “I know of a place far from here, somewhere safe. It’ll be a journey, and it won’t be easy, but it’s the only way we can protect her.” He glanced at me, his eyes soft with concern. “There’s plenty of food and water there. A paradise, if you will—shared with the animals that call it home.”
Penelope’s eyes glimmered with both hope and hesitation. “A paradise…,” she murmured, glancing down at me nestled in her arms. “But… what if we don’t make it? What if our legs give out?” Her voice was soft, full of the weight of all the unknowns that lay ahead.
Parker sighed, his hand gently squeezing Penelope’s shoulder. “We’ll make it, milady,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I promise you, we will. For her.”
Something in those words filled Penelope with a new strength. Her shoulders straightened as she took a deep breath. She looked down at me, her gaze soft and full of love. “We’ll do this together, my love,” she whispered to me, brushing a kiss to my forehead.
With Parker by her side, Penelope rose to her feet. They set off, determined and hopeful, leaving the tribe far behind. As the sounds of the tribe’s anger grew faint, only the distant cries of Virgil echoed through the trees, venomous but weak. “I will take that child, Penelope!” he howled, but his words were no longer a threat. The tribe became a mere memory, growing smaller and smaller as the world before them opened up.
Parker and Penelope pressed on, the promise of a new home, a sacred place in Africa, guiding their steps. Though the path ahead was uncertain, the love they shared for each other—and for me—was enough to light their way.
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