You work your way back to the mammoth’s rump and slide down, landing hard on the icy ground, where you lie aching and bruised, while the mammoth lumbers on. Suddenly it disappears, driven off the cliff. The hunters are shouting and cheering. Some of them come up to you. They are short and muscular, their jaws jut out, and they have bright squinting eyes. Their black hair hangs down to their shoulders. They are dressed in animal skins.

You look up helplessly, wondering what they will do to you, but in an instant you can see they will not hurt you. They help you up and carry you back to their cave and feed you steaming broth. It tastes awful, but makes you feel much better. You soon learn that the cave people will accept you as one of them, because you have -without realizing it- performed the sacred rite of their culture by riding bravely on the back of a mammoth.

Life is harsh and simple with the cave people, and sometimes you long for your family, your friends, and your own time again; yet your new life is as exciting and happy as you could wish for.