The boy stood quietly on the edge of the forest. A slight breeze made the reeds between him and the river hiss and rattle, the leaves of the jungle behind him rustled ominously.
The boy had a name, Garoo which was strange, as his tribe did not allow a name for males until they became men. He also carried a bone knife which he had earned along with his name, something the other boys were also not allowed.

The name and knife he had earned at a time when the tribe had been hungry, the monkeys would not allow themselves to be trapped, the crocodiles at the river were thick and not enough fish could be caught without great risk.
The dry season had come early, and lasted long. The migrations were sparse and stuttered, all the predators were confused, angry and hungry.
There was no way for them to know of the volcanic upheavals in the oceans that changed weather and migrations, nor would it have mattered. The only truth that the tribe knew was that they were slowly starving.

The boy had wandered off, looking for roots or nuts or fruits that he could make a meal of. He had watched as one of the women had briefly used a rock to beat aside some earth in search of roots, and he intended to try that instead of bruising his hands on the earth.
He knew where the roots were, generally however at this moment he was looking for a rock. He had tried several but none were of the shape and size he had imagined. He was not far from where the roots could be found, but had wandered into an open field, with rocks of all sorts scattered about, and he was intent on his search for the perfect rock.
The boy hefted a large rock, a river rock that had been broken. Rounded and smooth on one end, but broken at an angle on the other. This was not the perfect rock, but something inside him felt that this rock was special. He tried to imagine what this rock would be special for and had about given up, when the noise behind him caused his skin to chill in the hot sun.

The large boar had tracked him to this open field, where there were no trees to climb, no large numbers of men to confuse him and he was charging to bring this man thing down. The tusks would rend the intestines, and the hot bloody meat would keep the boar alive for a week or so.
The boy knew his situation was desperate with no cover near enough, no trees, no one to distract the boar to maneuver to a place of safety.
As the boar approached, the boy raised the rock over his head, now understanding what this rock was meant for.
The rock crashed through the skull of the boar, the sharp angle of the broken edge severed the flesh and crushed the thick bone only stopping after completely penetrating the small brain.

Garoo had not only survived the attack, but he had brought fresh meat back to the starving tribe.

Now Garoo watched the rivers edge for some time, searching for the signs of predators in the reeds, or on the banks. Several smaller animals had gone to the rivers edge, and returned before the boy slipped out of the shadowed forest edge and began making his way to the river bank.

The ancient eyes lazily watched the man thing moving towards the water. The smallish brain could never achieve intelligence such as we know it, but then it had not survived for well over one hundred years by being exactly stupid either. When the man things came to water in groups they were dangerous and at times had taken some of the young away with them, dragged by tail or lashed to poles. Single man things however could be killed easily, and as the scarred monster lay hidden in the thick reeds, Garoo became the tempting morsel that sparked cunning in the reptilian brain.

Garoo approached the water carefully, knowing that the crocodiles here could suddenly flash from the water with jaws agape. He stood back and waited patiently watching the patterns in the water, alert for any movement that signaled a submerged monster. He was also mindful of watching the trail behind him and the banks to either side, remembering the pig attack.

Seeing nothing to alarm him, he finally moved to the waters edge and scooped up water to drink. Thrilled at his own audacity and bravery, he resolved to fashion a stick spear, and attempt to lie in wait for some animal to come down to drink. He had not seen anything that would work in the reeds, but back in the forest there would be many downed branches he could use.

Stealthily the crocodile had moved, weaving through the reed clumps, angling back from the rivers edge, then back again nearing the path while the man thing so carefully observed the river.

The monster appeared on the path before Garoo had taken two steps away from the bank, tail lashing and the short powerful legs propelling the awful jaws so very quickly. Other man things had been so easy to catch this way, never expecting a crocodile to attack from land. Frozen in fear, or running terrified to the waters edge before realizing that they had made a fatal mistake as the crocodile jaws closed and splashed crimson into the water.

Garoo did not hesitate, or waver, nor did he turn to run. Garoo began bounding straight at those terrible jaws. A feinting step, and a leap carried him over the slashing teeth, one foot landing squarely on the hardened scales, to push him clear and over. Garoo knew he had a chance to make the forest, and once there he could use the trees to escape.

The crocodile tail lashed up, as the monster turned. Garro had judged his landing on the path, but that tail had caught his trailing foot and he fell sprawling just off the path as the crocodile pushed his bulk to follow Garoo up the path.

Garoo knew he could never outrun the crocodile to the forest now. Again Garoo was able to plan and act as if the plan was previously thought. As the crocodile jaws flashed through the reeds Garoo rolled towards the belly, bone knife slashing.

There was no longer any thought of escaping, Garoo had no intention of surviving any longer, rage had filled his mind, and even as the jaws closed on his leg, the bone knife slashed and stabbed at whatever opening he was afforded, as he was being dragged towards the river.

The murky water closed silently over the battle raging between the young boy and that ancient reptile. Garoo did not notice that his lungs were no longer breathing air, focused only on killing this monstrous creature he died, still stabbing and slashing.

The jaws slackened on the dead boys leg, and the eyes that had watched trees grow and die along the forest edge saw no more. Garoos attack had defeated the crocodile in the end, and both bodies began drifting apart.

Garoo did not understand this, how could he be watching the two bodies disappearing into the dark bloodied murk of the river? He felt elated at the death of his adversary. Confused that he could no longer feel the water dragging at his limbs as he tried swimming to the surface.

With a flash, sunlight filled his mind. His view was filled with the sky, and the sun, bright overhead did not burn his eyes. He could look full on it and notice details that no living man could ever see. Garoo came very close to going there to see those details up close, but as curious as the sun was to him, he was more interested in the events that were sure to be occurring in the river below him.

In amazement Garro realized that he was far above the river now. Indeed, he could see the forest below him, as a bird might see the land below. His gaze swept the river edge, and the path he had followed to the river, like a snake, wound from the forest edge. In an instant he was on the path, his view filled with the forest at his back, and the reeds on either side, and the river before him.

Splashing in the river caught his attention, and startled, Garoo was again instantly over the river, mere feet above the commotion below. Within moments Garoo knew that his body was being rolled under the water, the flesh and bones being torn and ripped, to be then stuffed into some hole, or log fall.

Upriver, a similar scene was being played out, and Garoo noted with satisfaction that he had indeed defeated the monster, as several smaller crocodiles began tending to the ancient flesh that had finally relinquished its place in the circle of life. Garoo watched carefully, and the first creeping of fear came to him, as he wondered if the monster spirit would come flashing from the splashing below to confront him once again.

Wonder and confusion came to him in a rush now, as the realization that he was dead, but not dead. As flesh dies, where does the spirit go? Memories of the tribal elders whispering in the darkness, debating the spirits of past tribal members. Secrets that only the men of the tribe were allowed to know, and deeper secrets still that only the elders could mutter among themselves. Finally the ultimate knowledge of the chief and the eldest, passed on only to whom?

Having experienced the sudden changes, Garoo was not taken totally by surprise to find himself within the tribal camp, among his people again. He could hear the muted sounds of camp life, some of the men sitting by a smoldering fire, older women crushing roots for a later meal. Younger women apart, weaving reeds and twigs into mats. Boys and younger girls chasing round, excitedly exploring anything within sight or sound, but staying well within the camp boundaries.

Garoo determined to speak with with the tribal elder, having decided that, as a spirit, he was no longer bound to tribal custom, being allowed to only speak to his father, mother and a very few of the younger men.