'Woman, get me a drink,' Broud motioned, twisting his head around as if he could see someone. 'And hurry.'
He put his hand back on his leg, his knees pulled to almost touch his chin, and clasped it with his other one.
And then started to rock.
'I'm thirsty,' he partly signed. 'Mother, I'm thirsty.'
He started to rock faster and faster. Started grunting as he did.
'Woman,' he growled.
He learned forward and picked up a chipped cup. Brought it to his lips. Coughed and spat out t he dust.
'This water makes me feel even thirstier.'
He picked up a bowl and put a peace of rubble in his mouth.
Tried to chew.
And then howled as he broke a tooth.
'Medicine woman,' he motioned and grunted. 'My mouth hurts. Iza. Where are you?'
He stood up, revealing a brown stain on his legs from where he'd soiled himself.
He stumbled over to Mog-Ur's hearth.
Looked around.
Shivered.
'I'm in pain,' he signed. 'And then like a small child not yet learnt the rules, he started to shake and moan.
'Help me,' he said. 'Please, I'm hungr, thirsty, in pain and so lonely. Oga, Ebra, Iza, Creb, Brun, please help me.'
He fell on his knees. 'I am cursed,' he realised in a rare moment of clarity that quickly passes away.
And then he looks at the mouth of the cave where sunlight is pouring in.
'Ayla?' He says, scrabbling over. 'Have you come to make me well?'
No one answered.
'And keep me company?'
No one answered because no one was there. Bround was alone. And for the short days keft to him before he would die of thirst and hunger, he would always be alone and his bones would not be found for thousands and thousands of year.
Ayla has won.
The End.