You pack up your few belongings. The one you prize most is a knife carved from the tusk of a wooly mammoth. You wave goodbye to your friends and trudge through the snow, trying to retrace your steps back to the Cave of Time. Though the wind is colder than ever, the bright sun stirs your hopes.

You have become much more rugged from living with the cave people, and your crude animal-skin clothes keep you surprisingly warm. You find your way down into the canyon and in a few hours reach the entrance to the cave, now almost covered with blowing snow.

You are exhausted from the long trek, and your eyes are watering from the cold wind. You hardly notice the large, gray shape only a few yards from the entrance to the cave until you hear the deep, guttural growl of a wolf. Now you stare directly into its cold, cruel eyes. You feel that at your slightest movement it will spring at you. You must think what to do before you move. You probably could outrun the wolf to the cave. It might hesitate before following you and give you enough time to escape or you could try to knife the wolf in the throat as it leaps at you.