“OWWW,” I MOANED, gingerly feeling the plum-sized bump on my forehead. I opened my eyes and found myself sprawled and drooling on a cold limestone slab. From the golden tint of the light streaming in through the mouth of the cave, I judged that it was afternoon. But where was I?

Slowly turning my throbbing head, I glanced around and nearly fainted—there was blood pooling on the floor next to my face. Suddenly, a purple liver plopped into the red puddle with a squish. I breathed a sigh of relief.

My mother, Lugga, stood over me, gutting a big freshly killed dodo bird. Her long chiseled face, chestnut-brown hair, and banana-leaf top were speckled with bird blood and cave dust, and, as usual, she was up to her elbows in dodo guts. Next to her stood my father, Big Lug, a large, baby-faced, bald man with two chins and one tooth—and he did not look happy. He leaned on his trusty stone club, which was slightly bigger than me. From this close I could see the countless scars and bloodstains on his huge hands—the result of a lifetime of bashing things.

“You think that little bump hurts?” asked my father as he casually reached into the dodo bird’s chest and tossed a heart onto the glistening pile of guts next to me.

“Huh?” I said, rubbing my bump again and trying to remember how I’d gotten it. “What happened to me?”

“What happened to you?” My father’s usually calm brown eyes were filled with worry. “What happened is that you wimped out!”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I noticed that my mother’s cheeks were wet with tears. I couldn’t remember anything about the morning. Except for the mysterious bump on my head, everything in our family cave seemed normal. I decided it was best to pretend I knew what they were talking about. “You’re right,” I said, “I totally wimped out!”

“Don’t be a Neanderthal,” said Mom. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

I swallowed and shook my head.

I heard a giggle behind me. My older sister, Windy, sat cross-legged at the back of the cave, plucking another freshly killed dodo. She had the round baby face of our father, minus a couple of chins. Lumpkin—our fat little cave cat—was lying on her lap, lazily batting at a floating dodo feather.

“What’s so funny?” I grumbled.

“Nothing,” said Windy. “Except how dumb you are. Does that bump on your head contain your entire brain?”

Leaning against the wall next to her was a small stone club I’d never seen before. “What’s that?” I asked.

“That,” said my father, “was supposed to be your caveman initiation gift.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to smile gratefully. “It’s … it’s … just what I’ve always wanted.”

Windy laughed louder this time. “All you want,” she said, “are some of those weird rocks that make colors.”

“No I don’t!” I lied.

My father frowned at me. I was a terrible liar.

“Dad,” said Windy, “remember the time Lug got bashed in the head and ran home and made a little picture with his blood?”

My father’s frown deepened.

That happened when I was five, but my sister loved to remind us. A kid named Bonehead had bashed me with a rock and—to my everlasting regret—I had not bashed him back. But I had realized that I could use my blood to paint a colorful picture. It was awesome. I had bashed myself to get more blood, but then Mom made me stop. Later, when I was exploring a cave, I stumbled on a crumbly rock that had streaks of red in it. I crushed it into powder and discovered that, when mixed with spit, it made a beautiful bloody color that would stick to cave walls. Best day of my life!

“You better watch out,” said my sister, “or you’ll end up like Crazy Crag and—”

“That’s enough!” snapped my father. “Windy, go and tell Boulder your brother’s awake.”

She stomped out.

My father and I sighed simultaneously. We had the exact same sigh. It was about the only thing we had in common.

“Why does Boulder need to know?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Boulder the Bountiful was the Big Man of our clan, and I’d always had a feeling he didn’t like me very much.

“Lug,” he said, “Boulder is holding a Clan Council Circle about you right now.”

“WHAT?” I stood up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “Boulder wants to banish you.”