Snow fell in thick, silent flakes over the Winter Ridge. The world was white, cold, and still. A young hunter named Juro walked alone, carrying only a fur cloak and a stone-tipped spear. His clan had sent him to find firewood and scout for game, but as the storm grew stronger, he began to worry he might not make it back before nightfall.
Juro pressed forward. The snow reached up to his knees. His breath fogged the air. Suddenly, he heard a howl echo across the ridge. Then another. And another. A wolf pack.
Wolves were both feared and respected by the Stone Age clans. They were skilled hunters, moving quietly through the snow with strength and cooperation. A pack of wolves could bring down animals much larger than themselves. But hungry wolves were dangerous to humans—especially a lone hunter.
Juro’s heart raced. He looked around, searching for a place to hide. He spotted a fallen tree nearby and crouched behind it, gripping his spear. The howls grew louder. Faint shapes appeared through the snow—gray wolves with sharp eyes, their fur blending into the storm.
The pack circled him. Their leader, a large wolf with a scar across its nose, stepped forward.
Juro knew running would be useless. Instead, he stayed still, lowering his eyes to appear non-threatening. Wolves respected strength, but they also understood fear.
The lead wolf growled softly. Juro slowly reached into his fur cloak and pulled out a piece of dried meat from his pouch. He tossed it onto the snow.
The wolves stopped moving.
The leader sniffed the meat, then ate it quickly. The other wolves watched carefully. Juro threw another piece farther away. Two wolves ran after it.
For a moment, the pack’s aggression softened.
But the leader approached again, sniffing the air. Juro realized the wolf smelled something else—the fresh rabbit meat he had collected earlier. He quickly tied the small bundle and tossed it far into the snow. The wolves sprinted toward it.
Juro didn’t waste time. He climbed onto the fallen tree and moved as quietly as possible toward a nearby ridge. But before he reached it, the leader wolf appeared in front of him.
It stared at him—not with hunger, but with curiosity.
Juro slowly raised his spear. The wolf growled but did not attack. For a long moment, they looked into each other’s eyes—two hunters, both trying to survive the winter.
Finally, the wolf huffed, turned around, and trotted back to its pack. Together, the wolves disappeared into the storm.
Juro exhaled in relief. He survived not through strength, but through understanding. In the Stone Age, humans were not the only creatures fighting against the harsh world. Wolves, too, struggled to find food, warmth, and safety.
When Juro returned to his clan and shared the story, the elders nodded. “Respect the wolves,” they said. “For they are hunters like us.”
