Doggerland

A spear-wielding KHARI (55 M) walks among a lichen-riddled plain. The trees are spindly, gnarled things, with naught adorning their branches. Mostly there is small shrubbery nearby moss-covered boulders.

The year is 19,000 B.C. This pre-historic world is recovering from its last ice age.

Khari's breath is a silvery wisp upon his lips. He watches the strange smoke fade into the Aether.

Khari winces. Checks his hand. There is a nasty cut on his palm that is surrounded by a macabre yellow bruise. Puss is oozing from the laceration. He scrapes the ooze onto his clothes.

The hunter crouches as he crests a hill.

He allows himself a grin.

Far below are three grazing creatures. They are equestrian- and bovine-adjacent, but truly neither.

He places his injured hand around the shaft of the longspear. He raises the weapon above his shoulder. It is ready to be projected when the moment is just right.

He winces again. Bites his lip.

He crests the hill...

The creatures are yet grazing...

He jumps forward, throwing the spear at the nearest animal.

It goes just right.

The creatures gallop away.

Khari fights off tears. Looks to his hand.

His palm has been torn open. His exposed flesh is green and black.

Haunting Norse music.

Before a large tent made of mammoth hide burns a fire. A large cauldron is boiling above it.

KIARA (19 F) places another log onto the fire. She takes in the smell of the boiling soup.

From the background comes a limping Khari, carrying a haul of three rabbits.

Kiara runs to check on her father.

Khari grunts. Hands off the rabbits.

She weighs them in her hands. Frowns.

Khari enters the tent.

In the corner of the room lays ISAK (14 M). His legs are noticeably under-developed.

He turns, happy to see his father.

Khari takes a moment to respond:

He takes a seat. Removes his boots.

One of Khari's leggings is ripped below the knee. The fabric is now wrapped around his injured hand.

Khari changes into a lighter wardrobe.

He looks to Isak before leaving:

Khari passes by Kiara, busy skinning rabbits, and warms himself by the fire.

The sounds of slicing stops.

Khari frowns.

Kiara doesn't reply to the question.

Khari leers at his daughter in the fire-light.

Khari wields a javelin. Adorned to his back is both a shortbow and a quiver of arrows.

He looks up the ridge of lichen-covered rocks before him and squints. The sun is rising over the woods.

Ascending the ridge, he nearly slips but catches himself on a boulder. His fingernails dig into the lichen that coats it.

Khari stalks through a forest. The trees are spindly, gnarled things, severely outnumbered by lesser shrubbery and moss-covered stumps and rocks.

At the sound of a singing bird, Khari pauses.

He studies his surroundings. He looks to the trees. There are no birds; indeed, there is no wildlife at all.

A stag is grazing.

Khari sets down his javelin and procures his bow.

He nocks a bonetip arrow. Aims...

A songbird chirps just behind him, startling both Khari and the stag. An arrow goes into the deer's hind as it jumps away into the woods.

Khari sits down at the base of a tree. Curses his luck.

He looks up, attempting to find the bird that had cost him his prey, but it is nowhere to be seen.

At the boughs--

There is no response to the threat.

Khari stands.

Khari follows a trail of blood.

A chorus of birds can be heard.

Khari warily follows their song.

The choral music ceases as Khari stumbles upon--

--a vulture pecking at the fallen stag's stomach, innards and organs splayed forth.

Khari approaches. Waves the vulture away.

The vulture turns its head to him, quizical.

The vulture tilts its head, confused by this creature, then continues eating at stomach of the stag.

Khari kicks at the vulture, but it doesn't seem preturbed.

Khari grabs the bird by its long neck and twists. There is a devestating crunch.

Khari throws the dead bird away from the stag.

Khari kneels down by the deer. It is still alive.

As Khari reaches for his javelin, the stag jolts up, lucid. It gores Khari with its antlers, before limping into the woods, blood pouring from its stomach.

Khari grabs his stomach. He is bleeding profusely.

Light-headed, Khari leans back and lays down on the forest floor. Beside him is the vulture, neck twisted, with its dead eyes staring at him.

Khari is rapidly losing consciousness.

A bird's-eye view of the forest.

We once again hear the chorus of syrens.

Super: DOGGERLAND

Time-lapse into night.

The chorus devolves into cacophonous, maniacle laughter.

Isak looks sadly into the campfire. Disformed, fragile feet dangle from the log he sits upon.

Kiara stands before the fire, stirring the large cauldron with a ladle.

Kiara grins.

Kiara frowns.

Kiara takes in the smell of the lentil soup.

Isak raises his brow at his sister, laughs.

Kiara sits next to her brother. Lays down the ladle.

Isak sighs.

Isak looks around, as if the gods themselves might hear him.

Kiara rolls her eyes.

Kiara chuckles. She pats Isak on the head, grabs the ladle and continues tending to the soup.

Khari enters from the woods. In one hand is the vulture, with the other he uses his javelin like a walking stick.

Kiara jumps to her feet, runs to her father.

She goes to embrace him, but Khari holds up the vulture between them.

Kiara grimaces but takes the disgusting bird.

Isak leans forward, attempting to get a better look.

Khari passes his son by.

Then he enters the tent.

Khari undresses. His stomach wound is grave.

The tent is large but mostly unfurnished. Each family members has a chair and a cot, around a hearth.

The three of them eat bird soup before a small fire.

He sets his bowl down.

Khari nods.

Khari is displeased.

He stands.

He leaves the tent.

Kiara frowns, looks to her brother.

Isak looks down at his bowl.

Khari is building a fire. It is an arduous task.

On the far side on the now raging fire, Khari is sharpening branches into javelins.

Near the tent, Kiara washes bowls and spoons in a basin.

Kiara looks to her father through the flames. When Khari raises his head, she swiftly looks away.

Khari kicks at the coals of the dying fire.

Kiara is leaning against the tent. Melancholic.

Khari turns toward her.

Kiara doesn't respond but obeys her father.

Before she opens the flap--

Kiara enters.

Khari frowns, stamps out the last of the flames.

The hearth is a cauldron of smoking ash.

Khari is snoring.

Kiara's eyes are wide open.

She slowly gets up. Looks to her brother.

Isak is sleeping soundly.

Kiara frowns.

Kiara exits the tent to a dark, foreboding landscape.

She wraps a fur coat around herself, then heads off into the woods.

Isak is shaken awake by his father.

Isak wipes his sleepy eyes. He doesn't understand.

Khari wraps Isak's tunic around his fist.

Isak grabs at his throat. Khari frowns at his curled first, releases his son.

Khari leers at his son, sighs.

Khari looks around the ground but can't find any footprints on the dry earth.

But, upon further review, Khari sees a trail of what must be a javelin being used as a walking stick. He mumbles to himself

Khari digs into harsh earth with a spade nearby a small tree.

Khari sets a small chest in front of Isak.

Khari opens the chest and shows off what looks like jerky.

He frowns, looks down at the 3 electra coins in his palm.

He procures two rocks. One jet black, the other chalky white.

Khari hits the rocks together. Sparks fly.

Khari looks at the bottom of the box, intrigued.

Khari reveals a bronze dagger. He looks it over, then hands it to Isak.

Khari’s anger flares, then resigns to sadness.

Khari closes his eyes.

Khari can relate to that.

An awkward moment between father and son.

Khari allows a smile.

Kiara is sleeping at the roots of a tree.

Crinkling leaves wake her.

She grabs her javelin, peers around the tree to see a stag walking through the forest. Its intestines sag from its stomach, dragging against the ground. A large arrow protrudes from its hind.

She watches, aghast, as the stag continues on, further into the forest.

Kiara grabs her few belongings and heads off, veering away from the stag.

Khari walks into a treeline. The trunk of the largest tree has been carved into. It is a crescent moon that encircles a skull.

The Forbidden Wood has taller, wider, healthier trees.

Khari comes across a circle of toadstools. He is wary of such a landmark and keeps his distance.

Once again, Khari stumbles upon a familiar looking site: the circle of toadstools nearby a rotted tree.

Khari scowls. Instead of moving forward, he turns back.

Khari exits the treeline of the Forbidden Wood. To his right is the large tree with the moon and skull etched into it.

Khari exhales, looks up toward the sun.

The circle of toadstools lay before Khari. Reluctantly, he approaches it.

He stabs his javelin into the center of the circle...

Nothing happens.

Khari thinks. He grabs a lichen-covered rock and tosses it into the circle...

The lichen seemingly dissolves, leaving the rock bare.

Khari walks into the circle and promptly disappears, his clothes and weapons falling to the ground.