Carlos's+Stone+Age+Narrative

My Narrative

I am a cave painter of the north. My name is paint thing. I know it’s a weird name but I don’t think my tribe’s namer was in his right mind that day. I was banned from my tribe for painting things I wasn’t supposed to be painting. I live in the fields in the west and I know that I am dyeing and I need to find a good place to die. I hear the water running the wind blowing and the animals prowling. I see many hunters failing and little succeeding this is not a good time to hunt for my tribe because our tribe leader is refusing to move because his daughter died here so our tribe has to travel far to find good game. I know that our tribe won’t last much longer. This is the end of me and my tribe.