Father said I was too young to have my own hammer and chisel. So I ran away and took the cart. It was made up of old car parts welded together and painted bright red. It had no roof and over the head support I had placed a handwoven piece of cloth, creating a makeshift sail to make the cart go even faster.
The wheels were from a large lawnmower and it went very fast down from the hill where we lived. Racing down, I noticed the small hole in the sandy ground in which Father had buried my future (unfinished) hammer and chisel.
I almost lost control when I pulled the ropes controlling the front wheels when I wanted to turn left at the bottom of the hill and for a moment only the right wheels touched the ground. Still panting I stood still and noticed a man had saved me from a yet unknown danger. He introduced himself as 'Palmer' and wore a grey warriors outfit. Including a helmet with leather flaps over the ears.
I was confused because Father had told me only tribe members helped each other. Was this 'Palmer' a member of our tribe? Come to think of it, next to Father I had never seen other tribe members.
