Turns out, I forgot something specific to the Ice Age saga-the prologue! Here it is!
Please forgive my rude narrative ways.
Prologue
A wide open ice field.
Yeah, I know it sounds boring. But this is serious. A lot of things happen here. Hey! Look, out there on the ice. Something's coming our way. No, it's not a joke or the ice playing tricks. It looks like a, a squirrel. Wait…a saber-toothed squirrel to be exact. Well, looks like Scrat found his way here after all. Now it's time to tell the story…
Scrat was doing his usual routine: search for nuts, move found nuts, hide nuts. Today was different. He was on the trail of a nut, when he found a small pack of sabers fighting off a tribe of humans. The squirrel ignored them, continuing his route.
Shortly after, he found his nut. It was near the saber-human fight. A spear landed right next to Scrat and he screamed, grabbed the nut and scurried off.
(Now that that's taken care of, let's see what that fight was about, shall we?)
"Leave here!" the tribe leader shouted as he thrust his spear again.
The saber growled. He seemed to be the leader. His light orange color was a noble shade for the assassin—perhaps too noble. He roared ferociously, swiping his paw at the spear. The head nearly cut along the pad. He growled even more fiercely at the human, pacing slowly as he calculated his coming attack. The tribe leader matched the saber's steps, still watching his men out of the corner of his eye. Another saber was attacking two of his best hunters. But then, he noticed his son being taken on by a saber bigger than the pack leader. The tribe leader did his best to ward of the alpha saber and get to his son, but was soon struck down as the alpha pounced.
"Father!" the son yelled as he ducked another pounce and ran to his father's side.
"Runar!" another human yelled, coming to his friend's side.
The other hunters in the tribe were able to give them time to escape as they fought for their lives. The sabers roared in disgust and anger, running off without another meal.
"Father," the young man tried again as he knelt next to his father again.
The man groaned in pain, but looked at his son with as much courage as he could muster. "Leave here my son," he finally said. "You must lead the tribe now. Please lead them well, Roshan." That his last breath.
Koal sat there, wanting his father to still be alive. Runar's best warrior and closest friend tried to convince Koal they had to go. Koal finally agreed, picking up his father's spear.
"Good-bye Father," Roshan said softly. "May your sacrifice bring our tribe peace and bounty." —a tradition that Runar started himself—"I promise to avenge your death."
Roshan joined his father's friend. "Lekin. We need to head south. We should have a boat hidden. We'll use it to head to another island. Gather the tribe. We leave soon."
Lekin hurried to follow Roshan's orders, reporting to the rest of the tribe. Roshan, however, would find the saber and avenge his father. He would wear the fur as a symbol of Runar's true ranking in the tribe. He wasn't the chief's son for nothing.