The new idea

I had this idea prompted by reading an archaeology/paleontology article about how long we have been using tools, shaped tools that is, not sticks crudely improved as monkeys do

The New Idea

Eyes-like-sky was the weak one of the tribe, because of her weak, blue eyes.  She could not see to hurl rocks at birds to bring them down.  She could only cut up the meat for others, and hope that they might leave some, so that she could eat.

They had brought her meat to cut up, waterfowl in abundance, from this rich valley into which they had wandered.  Old-bones had indicated that they might stay here; some of the older women were making a shelter by the valley wall, under the roots of an old tree.  Old-bones was almost blind, but she knew the herbs to use to cure people and could tell them by touch and smell.  Nobody made her wait for food.  Big-strong had tried it once, and he had been sick for many sleeps.  Old-bones had used magic herbs to make him sick.  He did not complain any more.

He would like to beat Eyes-like-sky though, and he would have the chance to do so if she could not cut the meat.  But all the rocks in the river were rounded.  None had any sharp edges for cutting.

Eyes-like-sky was frightened.  She did not want to be beaten, or killed. 

Then she was angry.  It was not her fault, it was the fault of the rocks!  She flung one useless rock at another. 

With a sharp sound, it broke apart.

Inside was the glinting black of the best sharp rocks.  Eyes-like-sky went over to look.  It was almost-sharp round the edge.  There was a thin sliver as well, which was sharp all round.  It would be a good scraper.

She hid the sliver in her fur garment and contemplated the two half-rocks.

If hitting one with another broke it once, hitting it again would break it again.

Or was the stone it had hit magic? 

She hit one half of the broken stone with the maybe-magic rock, and it broke again.  Not how she had expected it to break, into two wedges, but half-way down.   Hitting the lower bit again broke it in half and that was two good cutting surfaces.

Eyes-like-sky chose another round stone not the maybe-magic one and hit the other half rock.  It broke in much the same way.

It was not the stone which was magic. 

It must be she who was magic.

Eyes-like-sky started cutting up the meat.  When one edge got blunt, she hit it with the round stone which best fitted her hand.  She would keep that one and all the other shards.

She soon had all the meat cut up as the hunters came for their food.  She put some aside for herself.

Big-Strong came to snatch it.

Eyes-like-sky was afraid.  But then, she was angry.

Big-strong did not know what it was like not to see very well.

She thrust one of her thin cutting stones into his left eye.

He screamed.

She pulled it out, pointed to the meat and to herself.

“Mine.”

Big-strong moved forwards.

“Magic not enough once?” asked Eyes-like-sky.

He looked at the fine, pointed rock tool, and backed off.

“Me make.  Me magic,” said Eyes-like-sky.

Big-strong died in the night.

His brains were good food.

Leads-the-hunters offered some to Eyes-like-sky first, before he gave any to Old-bones.

Leads-the-hunters was no longer ashamed to be father to Eyes-like-sky.  She was magic.

Eyes-like-sky never went without again.

Her special cutting stones were good on the ends of sticks, too, to kill game in pits without having to climb into the pits and risk being bitten.

The tribe settled in the valley and Old-bones taught Eyes-like-sky how to find magic herbs.

It was a good life.