There was not much time. The curse was spreading fast, and he was feeling weaker by the day. It was just as he was about to lose hope of finding it again, that a shimmer of light fell upon a low-hanging fruit. 

He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw it. There was not just one tree full of fruit, but many, all evenly spaced, branches bursting, sagging with fruit, stretching out as far as the eye could see.

He saw the blossoms stretch over the horizon, overwhelmed by their majesty. His mate and child could feed off of this bounty for all of their lives, and their children, and their children’s children. 

He fell to his knees, eyes flooding with tears. There were so many fruits that had fallen to the earth he could not see the soil underneath. Never had he even imagined such a bounty was possible. He crawled to a tree trunk and embraced it, tears gushing down his cheeks.

All the hardship had not been in vain. His mate and child would have lives of peace and comfort, never having to endure the scarcity he had known most of his. All it had cost was his life, a true bargain. 

“Over here, we have another one. Look!” a muscular young man said. He had elaborate cloth draped over his chest and legs. He also had short, tidy black hair with bangs that hid his eyes. He was carrying a spear, but this was not a simple sharpened stick, but a thick, carved and lacquered shaft with an iron point fastened to it.

In his off-hand, the young soldier carried what the prehistoric man could only recognize as something that looked like a turtle shell, hard and oblong, with red paint in various patterns that were so symmetric and neat, so purposeful.

The young soldier also had strange ivory loops running through his ears. The spectacle of all the colored fabric and designs on the hardened shell the man carried was mesmerizing, that coupled with the rest of his garb was almost too much to take in.

“Great,” another soldier grumbled. He looked slightly older, his face full of stubble, while the other man’s was smooth. His hair was cut very close, nearly to the scalp. His eyes were harder than the other. He was shorter, but thicker. They were dressed identically, carrying the same spear and hardened shell. 

“Where do you think they are all coming from?”

The older man scoffed. “Who knows? These savage men grow like weeds.”

“What do you think the pharaoh is going to do with them all?”

“That is for him to decide. You ask too many questions. Not a good habit for a soldier. Curious soldiers have short lifespans. Just do your fucking job, how does that sound?” The young man grimaced but said nothing. “Go on, bind him.” the older man growled, tossing twine at the young soldier. 

The young man picked up the twine and set his spear and shell on the ground. The primitive man’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, fear paralyzing him.

He had no strength to fight, and he was cornered. The noise they were making between each other clearly meant something to them, but was meaningless to the primitive man. 

The older soldier laughed. “What’s the matter boy? Scared he is going to throw his own shit at you?”

The young man’s eyes widened. “They do that?” The older soldier only laughed louder. 

“Hello my friend, you are safe now. See?” the young man gestured, showing that he had nothing in his hands but twine. “We have to take you to the leader of our people now.” The young soldier approached the primitive man gingerly. “I am not going to hurt you. I just need your hands, ok?”

The young soldier reached out with the twine and tried to start wrapping. The primitive man realized what he was doing and struck him with his good hand. The young soldier fell onto his backside from the blow. “Damnit!” he cursed, massaging his bloodied lip. “He hit me!”

The older soldier laughed. “You’re greener than grass boy.” The older soldier drew the blade hanging from his belt. “Hey! Pig fucker! Sit down and put your arms out or I’ll open you up from balls to brain, if you have one anyway.”

The primitive man looked hard at the blade glittering threateningly in the sun. It was beautiful. Shimmering steel flowed out of a golden hilt. The blade was slightly curved, starting out thin, getting gradually thicker past the blade’s hump, coming to a sharp point.

The primitive man had no idea what the strangely dressed man was saying, but could guess that if he challenged them again, he would get bitten by the steel fang the soldier carried.

The young soldier began wrapping his arms again. The primitive man looked from the young soldier to the older one.

“Don’t you move a quarter of a cubit or I’ll lop both of your hands off and be done with it. Would certainly make my day easier.” The older soldier said, waving his long metal tooth for emphasis. 

This time the primitive man did nothing. He was tired, and in his state, he could not fight off a single man, let alone two.

“Ooh, he’s been injured," the young man said when his eyes found the wounded hand.

The older soldier sheathed his blade and came closer to get a better look. “He’s dying. His wound is cursed.”

“Can’t we do something about it?”

The older soldier examined the wound once again, then shrugged. “Doubtful. Sometimes the magicians can reverse the curse with spells and herbs, but only if they catch it quickly. This has been festering too long.”

The young soldier’s big eyes regarded the primitive man with pity. “What do we do with him then?” 

“Bring him to Pharaoh.” the older soldier growled.

“Not the magicians?” 

The older soldier kicked the primitive man hard in the back to get him marching forward. “You have a lot to learn boy.”