Imagine this—you’re lost in the wilderness, miles from civilization and utterly alone. It’s dark, and you’ve run out of supplies. You’re cold, scared, and you feel like this might be the end, but then in the distance you hear something. As you follow its rhythm the sound gets increasingly louder. It’s repetitive, like two stones being banged together. Then, gazing into the woods, you see it—the telltale dull orange glow of a fire flickering from inside a small cave. Out of sheer desperation you dare to peek inside, and as your eyes adjust to the light you notice a man seated beside a dog, chipping away at what was once a rock, transforming it into a tomahawk blade. The carcass of a large rodent is suspended above the flame and, if you’re being honest with yourself, it smells delicious. You ask him if he can help you, his steely blue eyes lock with yours, and with a subtle nod he exhales a single word: “Yeah.”
