When they finally started to leave, one after the other passing through the narrow opening, the group walked a few meters into the forest before something strange touched Hawke's mind, a feeling that someone was missing.
He stopped and looked back, counting mentally.
"Where's the old woman?"
Duggi answered without any emotion in his voice, as if he were talking about the weather:
"She stayed."
Hawke stopped completely.
"She stayed? What do you mean she stayed?"
"She can't keep up, duh. She's slow. She'll delay us. She's dead weight on the trip."
The naturalness with which he said that; it seemed like he was commenting that he had forgotten a stone in the cave, made something harden inside Hawke's chest, something cold and heavy settling in his stomach.
He looked at the others. Kuggi. Tairo. The girls.
No one seemed surprised. No one seemed outraged. No one seemed to think it was wrong, except for the expression of sadness that seemed to be contained.
It was simply... logical to them. Obvious. Survival. The old woman was slow, so she stayed. Simple as that. They'd probably done this before, leaving other weaker members behind when food became scarce and the group needed to move quickly.
'They're... they're just going to leave her there? Alone? To die?'
Without saying anything, without asking permission, Hawke turned and started running back to the cave.
"HEY!" Kuggi shouted after him. "Leave her alone! It's not worth it!"
He didn't answer, just sped up, his feet pounding against the uneven ground.
He heard Duggi mutter something about "he must be in love with Grandma" and "wanting to stay with her in the cave," followed by Kaira and Yuka's voices reprimanding him.
But Hawke was already too far away to hear the rest.
He found the old woman exactly where he had seen her before; sitting on the rock near the entrance, looking at the wall marked with all those black hands, all those symbols of people who had left and probably would never return.
The prints varied in size and shape, some large, some small, some barely visible after years of fading. Each hand represented someone who had once stood where they were now, someone who had walked out of the cave with the hope of surviving the wild world outside. But many of those people had probably never returned.
She was surprised to see him, her eyes widening slightly.
"Aren't you going to leave your mark, old woman?"
Hawke asked again, now understanding her silence, the meaning of that lonely moment. She wasn't going to leave a mark because she wasn't going to leave. She was going to stay. Forever.
She gave a small, tired, slightly crooked smile. "I wouldn't need to, really. Because I'll remain here anyway."
Hawke crouched in front of her, getting to her eye level.
"Let's go."
"No," she replied, too calmly, too resigned. "I would only delay you. Rules are rules, boy."
He was silent for a second, processing, deciding.
Then he turned his back to her and bent down, leaning forward.
"Get up quickly, old woman, we need to hurry."
She hesitated. Then she started punching him on the head; weak punches, without force, more symbolic than anything else.
"I already told you! Get out of here, idiot! Leave me alone! Who do you think you are?"
"Hurry up, you old hag. We don't have all the time in the world."
"Nobody's getting me out of here!" She crossed her arms stubbornly. "Not even a dinosaur could!"
Hawke sighed, braced the black club against the wall, approached from behind, and simply picked her up, one hand under her bony knees, the other on her hunched back. She weighed less than the club, basically skin and bones. She continued to give him weak punches, protesting, but he managed to adjust her around his neck.
"LET ME GO! I'M SERIOUS!"
For a brief second he wondered if he was being stupid. Carrying another person meant slowing down, wasting strength, making himself a bigger target for predators. Every logical argument said the others were right. But logic alone didn't sit well with him.
"Okay. Complain some more, go ahead."
He picked up the club again with his free hand and left the cave carrying her.
The group was already a little further ahead when Hawke emerged from the bushes with the old woman around his neck. Everyone stopped instantly upon seeing him, their expressions varying between surprise, confusion, and something that seemed... respect?
Hawke stopped too, looking directly at them, his voice firm and loud enough for everyone to hear:
"I'm not leaving anyone behind."
The wind passed between them, making the leaves of the giant trees rustle above.
Tairo held the herbs the old woman had given him, his fingers tightly wrapped around the bundle. Kuggi and Duggi held the makeshift clubs, their faces somewhat shocked. The girls watched in silence, something glistening in their eyes.
At that moment, something invisible shifted in the air around them.
It wasn't a formal declaration like "now I'm the leader." It wasn't a physical fight to establish dominance. It was a choice. An action that spoke louder than any words could.
And choices shape leaders far more than muscles or shouts.
In a world where survival usually meant abandoning anything that slowed you down, choosing to protect someone weak felt almost rebellious. It wasn't strength that made the others silent. It was the quiet certainty behind Hawke's action.
They resumed walking after a few seconds of heavy silence.
This time, without any prior arrangement, Hawke ended up at the rear. Carrying the old woman who continued to murmur weak protests but had already stopped punching.
The old woman, her thin arms wrapped around Hawke's shoulder to keep from falling, said:
"Hey, Tairo, you idiot. You're not the leader anymore."
Tairo replied with a smile on his face, half proud, half relieved.
"Okay, Grandma, you're the leader again now."
And they moved on, leaving behind not only the stone cave marked with black hands, but also that cold logic that abandoned the weak without a second thought.