Minneapolis Small Ones Much Cold Pain

Ugh. Big bad happen. Big men, not from here, come smash-smash cave. Take away cave-people. Make families cry much. Young one, he say, "Me always scared. Like big beast hunt me all sun-time!" These big men, they wear strange skin, carry big sticks. They come fast like angry mammoth, grab kin, then gone. Leave babies cry, old ones moan. Many families now just one-one person. No one know why big men take. No one know where big men go. Just sadness in air. Last moon-time, big men take Grok's brother. Grok's brother just good hunter, find berries. Now Grok sad. His woman sad. His baby cry for father. Whole tribe feel cold wind. Fire not warm enough now. Everyone look over shoulder, listen for strange foot-sound. Small cave, big cave, no cave safe. Fear walk with us, like shadow that never leave. We just want peace, eat mammoth, sleep safe. Thok the Swift, known for running fast: "Me see them! Big dark shapes! They grab-grab little Una's father! Una cry so loud, like baby mammoth hurt. Me run, hide behind big rock. Heart go boom-boom!" Lara the Loomer, good at weaving tough grass: "My sister's man, gone! Big men take him in night-time. Me hear screams. Next sun, only empty sleep-spot. Now sister sad, no strong arm for mammoth hunt. How she feed young ones? This bad magic!" Korg the Wise, Head Elder of Stone-Tooth Tribe: "This bad. Very bad for tribe. We need talk. We need make big-big sound. These 'federal raids' no good. No good for peace, no good for hunting, no good for little ones. Korg say, we must stay together, protect cave. Korg think big men need go back where they came from. Our land, our people." Story by Zog from Caveman Talk Fire, on the scene.