l.m.

Outside the cave the world was a savage place. The rules of life were simple; fight or be fought; eat or be eaten, kill or be killed – there was no love nor harmony, only a battle for survival. The Neanderthal stepped cautiously into the light, his eyes scanning the stretch of white trees that seemed to frown over the frozen river, ominously arching on either side. His stumpy legs shuffled forward onto the cave-lip, while the icy wind attacked and whipped against his body. The cruel world was signing out its call. Yet this was not a call of kindness, but instead, the malicious howl of nature in the lifeless struggle of an ice-age.

Almost every instinct screamed at the Neanderthal, telling him to return to his lair to keep warm. Yet a deep stinging had spread over his mind over the last few days, until it screamed out in palpable pain; this was the sting of hunger.

After climbing down the slope that lead to his cave, he took shelter under a clump of pine trees near to the edge of the frozen river. Here the air was calmer, as the shaggy branches acted as a shelter from the howling wind. Looking up towards the powdery white boughs, he searched for signs of life.

The laws of the frozen wild are tough. The weaker creatures perish in the hostility, and without the qualities of cunning and wit; they soon become wiped out of existence. Yet, despite the savagery of the world, the strongest creatures always salvage survival – and with this audacious ability to remain alive, it comes with it, a canny ability to remain unseen. So the Neanderthal found nothing, not a single movement, nor a whisper amongst the trees. Hence he trudged on forward through the wilderness; his deep hunger gnawing incessantly inside.

As he searched on, he began to let his mind wander. It was a hopeful day dream, and it gave him great belief that he will finish the day with food. He thought of how his species alone is the only animal that is intuitive enough to enforce their strength through dead things. He did not resort to biting or scratching like the other animals in the frozen world. Instead, he had used the sturdiness of branches and the sharpness of rocks as a substitute for fangs and claws.

Snapping out of his reverie, the Neanderthal saw something shoot across a pillar of tress. It moved with a silent swiftness, disappearing into the wilderness before his eyes had time to fully adjust. Tightening the grip of his spear, the Neanderthal felt a rush of energy surge through him. Every colour intensified; every sound became more acute; every smell clearer.
….

There is a patience that marks dominance in the wild, and it is such patience that leads to survival. It is the persistence of the wolf as it entices its prey forward, never edging to close, yet never straying too far away. The wolf delays the attack long enough for the rest of the wolf-pack to arrive, where they then devour into the meaty flesh of the prey, ripping it open with savage victory.

This patience belonged to the Neanderthal as he stood in the forest, doggedly waiting for the slightest sign of the creature. And with such patience, he eventually saw it. Bright yellow eyes blinked within a spruce bush only a few meters ahead. He knew that with his weapon he could defeat any creature that inhabits the frozen land, and so he stared directly at the spot of where he knew the creature resided. A series of screams bellowed from the Neanderthals throat, and he waved his spear to show his readiness to fight. The creature responded with equal willingness, sliding its way through the leaves; its great white paws pressing into the snow; its two saber-tooth fangs glinting with ferocity.

In a flash, both Neanderthal and Saber-tooth tiger knew it. It was the time of death. The battle will reach a bloody end and only one creature will survive. Only one creature will get to chew on thick flesh of another, tasting their warm and bubbly blood. As they circled about the trees, snarling and assessing one another, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike, nature watched keenly. For over the vast whiteness, a ghostly silence brooded over the battle ground. The wind had stopped and mother earth peered down expectantly –waiting to see who was the most dominant and adaptive of her children.

With unimaginable speed, the tiger leapt forward into the air, its claws outstretched and its razor sharp teeth bearing brutality. Instinctively, the Neanderthal raised his spear out high in front of him, waiting for the Saber-tooth to land down and pierce into his weapon. Yet it never happened. Only centimetres before the belly of the tiger was from touching the Neanderthal’s spearhead, something struck from the side and pierced into the body of the tiger. The sheer speed and velocity of the intruding object knocked the tiger off course and it spun in the air, collapsing onto the earth in an awkward heap. The Neanderthal looked down in confusion, watching as the snowy ground changed into a slushy red while blood oozed out of its wound. Sticking into the tigers gut was another spear, yet it seemed oddly different. Unlike his which was fairly short and thick, this one was much longer and thinner. The Neanderthal then felt a surge of panic rush through him, yet it was nothing compared to the terror when he looked up and saw the intruder; it was then that the Neanderthal experienced the return of an old companion; fear.

The Neanderthal’s mind flashed a thousand memories as he tried to recall any previous encounter with such a creature – yet there was nothing. Instead, he scrutinised it with a reserved transfixion. At a distance, it looked strangely familiar to his species, yet when it moved closer, notable differences could be seen. It was taller than him, yet it possessed less sinew. Its skin was darker and less hair covered its body. The Neanderthals feet suddenly became locked onto the earth; frozen by fear. There was an instinct inside him that screamed at him to fight, yet a more rational predisposition told him to run. But the ancient companion of fear simply kept him locked there, and he remained in his spot, frozen and unable to move, much like the icy world around him.

The mysterious creature stopped only a few meters in front of him, and the Neanderthal stared into its deep and intelligent eyes. The spheres of its soul showed little savagery, but at the same time, a dominance and wisdom more powerful than anything he had ever witnessed before spoke within them.

Both creatures had no conscious knowledge of death, but like all animals in the wild, they acquired deaths instincts. Death represented itself as the greatest of pain, as the worst of all punishments, and the greatest mystery of the unknown. And it was in that moment, when Neanderthal and Homosapain stood face to face on the snowy stage for the very first time, that mother earth knew a sanguine battle for mastery would follow. Both species desired such mastery, yet the unforgiving laws of the wild will never allow it to be shared. Coalition was not conceivable. There will only ever be one winner; for that is the prime rule of nature.

Outside the cave the world was a savage place. The rules of life were simple; fight or be fought; eat or be eaten, kill or be killed – there was no love nor harmony, only a battle for survival. The Neanderthal stepped cautiously into the light, his eyes scanning the stretch of white trees that seemed to frown over the frozen river, ominously arching on either side. His stumpy legs shuffled forward onto the cave-lip, while the icy wind attacked and whipped against his body. The cruel world was signing out its call. Yet this was not a call of kindness, but instead, the malicious howl of nature in the lifeless struggle of an ice-age.

Almost every instinct screamed at the Neanderthal, telling him to return to his lair to keep warm. Yet a deep stinging had spread over his mind over the last few days, until it screamed out in palpable pain; this was the sting of hunger.

After climbing down the slope that lead to his cave, he took shelter under a clump of pine trees near to the edge of the frozen river. Here the air was calmer, as the shaggy branches acted as a shelter from the howling wind. Looking up towards the powdery white boughs, he searched for signs of life.

The laws of the frozen wild are tough. The weaker creatures perish in the hostility, and without the qualities of cunning and wit; they soon become wiped out of existence. Yet, despite the savagery of the world, the strongest creatures always salvage survival – and with this audacious ability to remain alive, it comes with it, a canny ability to remain unseen. So the Neanderthal found nothing, not a single movement, nor a whisper amongst the trees. Hence he trudged on forward through the wilderness; his deep hunger gnawing incessantly inside.

As he searched on, he began to let his mind wander. It was a hopeful day dream, and it gave him great belief that he will finish the day with food. He thought of how his species alone is the only animal that is intuitive enough to enforce their strength through dead things. He did not resort to biting or scratching like the other animals in the frozen world. Instead, he had used the sturdiness of branches and the sharpness of rocks as a substitute for fangs and claws.

Snapping out of his reverie, the Neanderthal saw something shoot across a pillar of tress. It moved with a silent swiftness, disappearing into the wilderness before his eyes had time to fully adjust. Tightening the grip of his spear, the Neanderthal felt a rush of energy surge through him. Every colour intensified; every sound became more acute; every smell clearer.
….

There is a patience that marks dominance in the wild, and it is such patience that leads to survival. It is the persistence of the wolf as it entices its prey forward, never edging to close, yet never straying too far away. The wolf delays the attack long enough for the rest of the wolf-pack to arrive, where they then devour into the meaty flesh of the prey, ripping it open with savage victory.

This patience belonged to the Neanderthal as he stood in the forest, doggedly waiting for the slightest sign of the creature. And with such patience, he eventually saw it. Bright yellow eyes blinked within a spruce bush only a few meters ahead. He knew that with his weapon he could defeat any creature that inhabits the frozen land, and so he stared directly at the spot of where he knew the creature resided. A series of screams bellowed from the Neanderthals throat, and he waved his spear to show his readiness to fight. The creature responded with equal willingness, sliding its way through the leaves; its great white paws pressing into the snow; its two saber-tooth fangs glinting with ferocity.

In a flash, both Neanderthal and Saber-tooth tiger knew it. It was the time of death. The battle will reach a bloody end and only one creature will survive. Only one creature will get to chew on thick flesh of another, tasting their warm and bubbly blood. As they circled about the trees, snarling and assessing one another, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike, nature watched keenly. For over the vast whiteness, a ghostly silence brooded over the battle ground. The wind had stopped and mother earth peered down expectantly –waiting to see who was the most dominant and adaptive of her children.

With unimaginable speed, the tiger leapt forward into the air, its claws outstretched and its razor sharp teeth bearing brutality. Instinctively, the Neanderthal raised his spear out high in front of him, waiting for the Saber-tooth to land down and pierce into his weapon. Yet it never happened. Only centimetres before the belly of the tiger was from touching the Neanderthal’s spearhead, something struck from the side and pierced into the body of the tiger. The sheer speed and velocity of the intruding object knocked the tiger off course and it spun in the air, collapsing onto the earth in an awkward heap. The Neanderthal looked down in confusion, watching as the snowy ground changed into a slushy red while blood oozed out of its wound. Sticking into the tigers gut was another spear, yet it seemed oddly different. Unlike his which was fairly short and thick, this one was much longer and thinner. The Neanderthal then felt a surge of panic rush through him, yet it was nothing compared to the terror when he looked up and saw the intruder; it was then that the Neanderthal experienced the return of an old companion; fear.

The Neanderthal’s mind flashed a thousand memories as he tried to recall any previous encounter with such a creature – yet there was nothing. Instead, he scrutinised it with a reserved transfixion. At a distance, it looked strangely familiar to his species, yet when it moved closer, notable differences could be seen. It was taller than him, yet it possessed less sinew. Its skin was darker and less hair covered its body. The Neanderthals feet suddenly became locked onto the earth; frozen by fear. There was an instinct inside him that screamed at him to fight, yet a more rational predisposition told him to run. But the ancient companion of fear simply kept him locked there, and he remained in his spot, frozen and unable to move, much like the icy world around him.

The mysterious creature stopped only a few meters in front of him, and the Neanderthal stared into its deep and intelligent eyes. The spheres of its soul showed little savagery, but at the same time, a dominance and wisdom more powerful than anything he had ever witnessed before spoke within them.

Both creatures had no conscious knowledge of death, but like all animals in the wild, they acquired deaths instincts. Death represented itself as the greatest of pain, as the worst of all punishments, and the greatest mystery of the unknown. And it was in that moment, when Neanderthal and Homosapain stood face to face on the snowy stage for the very first time, that mother earth knew a sanguine battle for mastery would follow. Both species desired such mastery, yet the unforgiving laws of the wild will never allow it to be shared. Coalition was not conceivable. There will only ever be one winner; for that is the prime rule of nature.

@Nick Reynolds
The recently discovered ‘Homo Denisovans’ are believed to have contributed to the Melanesians (The Koori, Papuans etc) genome, rather than Neanderthal admixture.

@Ella Silver
Very accurate to the current theories, though theories are subject to change. There is a small debate as to whether Homo Sapiens evolved in and around Israel at the moment, though this is a theory which will possibly be found to be based on false evidence. It does seem that environmental factors promoted the pathway to our modern intelligence.

@Scappydee
The consensus is that Neanderthals evolved from the European & perhaps North African populous of Homo Heidelbergensis, a much earlier species.

I might not be entirely correct but that is the current accepted theory as i understand it.

But you should watch it if only to see the hilarious voice coach session, it could be straight out of a Monty Python sketch!