With slow and tentative steps, the people began to emerge from the forest, blinking in the

brightness of the open grasslands beyond.

They clutched stone-tipped spears, baskets, and bags.

Infants and toddlers clung to adults occasionally crying, while older children, bolder, ranged

ahead into the sea of stalks.

A lone gazelle, resting in the shade of a single tree in the midst of the grass, startled

at their approach.

It let's straight up into the air, all four legs leaving the ground, and turn to sprint

away from the interlopers.

Instead of safety, the gazelle ran into a half dozen stone spear points.

The hunters had been hiding in the tall grass, inching closer to their prey, when the gazelle

presented itself to them.

The spears stabbed home, bringing the animal down, and they cried out in triumph.

The hunters and their band would eat well tonight.

It was only a moment later, holding their bloody spears and hugging an exultation that they

noticed the people frozen at the tree line, the children between.

Fear and tension hung in the air, where the newcomers dangerous?

Who were they?

Where did they come from?

The hunters had never glimpsed the people of the forest before, only seeing the occasional

footprint and heard stories from members of other bands who claimed to have encountered

them.

...