Friends,

The first spring of my leadership has now arrived. While we mourned the passing of our previous chief, who succumbed to the winter cold, and immortalized his reign on the cave wall, the warm sun slowly returned to us and now embraces us once again. This is a year of new beginnings, and I promise you that under my leadership, we will no longer be slaves to the whims of the forest gods and the weather spirits. We shall direct our efforts towards harnessing the power of the flame, so that it might warm and protect us. We shall make tools with which we can reshape the earth to bear delicious fruit. Under my guidance, you shall come to fear neither rival nor winter, and we shall truly rule this land we call home.

Why are you all looking at me with such quizzical expressions? (sigh) Oh alright, here we go:

chief dead. spring here. we must make fire and collect more food this year or we die next winter. also neighbour tribe look at us funny. also dynastic rules go away now. word ‘ant’ becomes ‘caveman’ and ‘sandbox master’ becomes ‘chief’.