Tsa, the hunter

36,000 BCE - The hunter, Tsa, was the last man on Earth. Or so it felt. For over ten years, the only creatures he'd spoken to had been the ubiquitous hive monkeys, furry manlike beings who chittered at him without understanding. The sun never rose high in the sky in this strange land of perpetual day.

Tsa knew that perpetual day was a lie, eventually there would come the endless savage night and the terrifying cold whiteness that would cover everything. He had barely survived his first winter, his companions had not. He'd lost three fingers and two toes to frostbite, one of his ears was ragged. Vitamin deficiencies during that awful winter had cost him teeth. He had had to devour the flesh of his companions. But somehow, somehow he had survived.

Something rustled in the bushes ahead. Tsa crouched warily. Nothing here had a fear of man, something that had aided his and his companions hunting. At first, he and his companions had celebrated, it seemed this land was a paradise of easily caught game and strange but often edible roots and seeds. But the other side was that the predators here had no fear of man, and the larger ones seemed eager to take a meal. He bore further scars from such incidents.

A small hopping animal emerged from the brush, vaguely similar to the kangaroos of his home. He relaxed, no danger. But no sustenance either. He knew from experience that there was little meat on the agile little hopper, and what there was was gristly and tasted poorly.

Then, something caught his eye on the horizon.

A plume of smoke? It was thin and whispy, white, as of the nature of wood fires in this land.

But there had not been a storm lately, no lightning strike.

After all this time?

People.

Both excited and terrified at the prospect, Tsa forgot about hunting and began walking towards the plume.

\* \* \* \* \* \* \* \* \*

Tsa and his former companions were not the first humans to end up on the Antarctic shores.

During this period, there was a strong equatorial current running along the Australian coast past Tasmania until it met the circumpolar currents and shed its heat.

At times, this current would move close to Tasmanian shores, sweeping up debris and the dugout canoes the local inhabitants. Storms or tsunami's would also wash aboriginal inhabitants out to sea and onto a perilous journey south.

In one remarkable incident, a sudden storm and a shift of current had sent almost an entire village in dugouts along.

In all, perhaps a hundred humans had involuntarily made the journey over a ten thousand year period during which the current held sway, usually ending up somewhere along a few hundred mile stretch of the storm coast. During that time, numerous small specimens of Tasmanian or Australian life had also found its way south, most of which had no survived.

The first human who reached Antarctica did so as a rotting corpse, 42,000 BCE. The next, a pair of terrified, starving wretches had stumbled up on strange shores two thousand years later. One would die within a few weeks, the other did not survive the winter.

Tsa and his companions had been fishermen, and unusually skilled and bold. That had been their undoing, the equatorial current had caught them. But they'd proven themselves to be hardy survivors, catching fish and surviving on rainwater. When they'd stepped, shivering onto these new beaches, they had been humanity's best chance of establishing a foothold on Antarctica.... except that they had been three men.

\* \* \* \* \* \* \* \* \* \*

Distances, Tsa had learned early, were hard to judge in this strange land. It took him the better part of a day to reach the place he'd seen the plume of smoke.

Yes!

They were people, like himself. He watched the miserable band carefully for a few minutes. There was a warrior though his only weapon was a broken piece of driftwood, a mature woman, a youth and two girls. They huddled around the fire, looking miserable.

Where had they come from.

\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*

Most of those who had ended up taking the southern passage had been men. Typically, it was usually men fishing in the dugouts. Of the twenty women drawn down, many had drowned along the way. One woman had made the journey down to these shores, and had survived for almost thirty years without ever seeing another human.

In this instance, a Tsunami had swept Australian shores south of the barrier reef killing hundreds. In one village, a small handful had managed to cling to a tree as it was swept out to sea. Not all of them had survived, two had drowned or succumbed to the elements, one had simply surrendered to despair and let go.

\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*

Excitement was too much, and Tsa showed himself to the strangers.

It was immediately clear that these were a different people from any that Tsa had known. They were frightened and wary.

But they were also hungry and desperate. The needed the tools that Tsa had accumulated, they needed to know how to hunt, what roots were edible.

Tsa learned a little from them. starvation had lead them to discover some plants were edible that he had never tried. Over time, they learned to communicate in a crude fashion. He hunted with the warrior and the youth, and together they took down larger game.

But despite companionship, Tsa was unhappy. These new people had no sense of the white death that was coming. As astonished as they were by perpetual day, they did not realize that there would be perpetual night, or a desperate need to prepare.

The women beckoned to him. He had been so lonely so long, had suffered so without companionship. But the warrior rejected his entreaties and pleas. Just one, to warm his nights, to braid his hair for him, to do the women's tasks.

He had insisted, it had earned him a brutal beating. As damaged as he was by frostbite, wounds and privation, he was no match for the warrior.

Instead, he redoubled his efforts, building a shelter to house them all, hoarding immense amounts of roots and seeds, dried meat to last the winter he knew would come. He managed to enlist the youth in his undertaking, though the warrior and women laughed at the efforts.

Come winter, they learned different. He felt a glow of satisfaction as the warrior and his harem, the woman and one of the girls visibly pregnant, huddling forlornly to his fire.

Surely he deserved a woman.

He got another beating, and had to cringe and be to avoid being thrown out into the cold. It was the worst humiliation of his life.

Revenge came the next summer. The three males were out hunting one of the Shaggo, lumbering creatures who walked on their knuckles to protect huge claws.

As the Warrior rushed forward, Tsa rammed his spear into the man's back. Turning, the warrior twisted about, trying to bring his spear about. The youth shoved his spear into the warrior's side. They held the spears in him as he twisted, blood frothing from his mouth. It had seemed that he'd taken a long time to die.

The Shaggo watched this drama with dim incomprehension, and slowly shambled away.

The youth was panting, frightened. Tsa put his hand on the youth's shoulder. The women were his now. But he was not foolish, he would share.