[50024 Years Ago/ That Evening/ The Plain]
"I live," Mike said, wincing at the pain that had woken him.
He touched his leg and cried out to the sudden agony.
With effort he pulled himself up to sit against the wall of the ravine. He saw his calf was at a strange angle and there was much dried blood.
It took only moments for him to realize the blood came from the abrasions all over his body. He hadn't fallen straight down to the ravine floor but had grasped at roots and rocky projections along the way. This had slowed his fall and saved his life, but it had deeply torn his skin in several places.
On remembering the lion, Mike looked up, expecting to see the glaring eyes, but he saw only a band of the darkening sky.
Mike looked to his left to find the ravine tapered away to a crease in the solid rock. He looked to his right and to his surprise he could see the Lake. There was an opening at the end of the ravine that revealed a southern view and a sparkling blue line of water.
"It's not that far," Mike said, "if I could walk."
He grimaced to what he had to do next. Setting a broken bone was a technique known to all in the tribe and Mike had set the bones of many over the years, but never his own. He would need to pull on the leg, allowing the bones to come together properly, but he didn't have the flexibility to do this.
He looked around and in a patch of sunlight he saw a stick leaning against the wall. It was in easy reach and if not for the remoteness of this place, Mike would have believed someone had left it there.
He took hold of this piece of wood and placed the one end against his foot. With all of his effort and with screams that echoed about the ravine he forced the leg bones back together. He felt instant relief and lay back gasping for breath.
After several minutes of thanking the gods and allowing his heart to calm and slow, he sat up against the wall again and looked at the stick. It was old and gray but perfectly straight. He could see tiny holes from insects, but it was still very solid. "I can use you to get back to the Lake," Mike said, twirling the stick, "but I'll also need some splints."
Further toward the opening he saw branches that had been swept in from storms over the years. Most were too short or thin, but there were a few that Mike could use.
Holding the stick, he crawled to these, then he used his knife to cut the splints. He took off his leather belt and cut it into strips and used these to secure the splints around his leg.
"Okay," he said, "let's see how I did."
He used the stick, the wall, and his healthy leg to draw himself slowly up to stand. He accidentally touched the foot of his broken leg to the floor and immediately regretted it. When the pain subsided, he put his weight on the stick and looked to the Lake. "Assuming I'm not eaten by a lion or die of thirst or fall into another ravine, I just might make it back before sunrise."
Mike steadied himself with his walking stick, then began the long journey home.