The woman scrambled back to her feet, eager to join in on the ongoing fray. While still unarmed, she leaped back toward the lion, in sync with the other men who all charged in practically at the same time. The lion, overwhelmed by the simultaneous attack, attempted to leap out of the way to escape. However, it had no avenue left, as it was attack from the the font, underneath, and both flanks. Most of the attacks inflicted moderate wounds, none truly lethal, until the clean-shaven man, the last to strike, plunged his stone into the lion's neck. Finding a soft spot in its throat, the stone slipped in and out easily, and within seconds the lion was drowning in its own blood. It choked and sputtered, the stream of hot blood soaking the survivors surrounding it. It grasped at its throat with its hands, a disturbingly human-like gesture, suffered for a moment longer, and died.

Celebrations were short-lived. The humans knew this was far from the only monster lurking in the dark. They stuck together and wandered out into the dark, battered and bloody, unsure of what they may find. Those among them that could still walk on their own dragged their kill behind them, as they knew they would have to eat before long, and the more wounded leaned against each other for support.

After what seemed like hours of aimless wandering, a soft light glowed in the distance. Wary, but drawn to it none the less, the survivors approached the light. As they grew closer, the light grew more intense, and eventually overpowered the light of their own lanterns. A tower rose out of the plain of faces, a seemingly natural formation of lanterns stacked the height of half a dozen men into the sky. It curved gently as it towered over them, a crooked effigy of light and warmth. This light would protect them; they knew this in their guts, though none of them were sure why. Here they would be able to stop, and here they would settle.

It seemed that they were not alone, either. Other humans had gathered to the hoard of lanterns, ink-eyed and speechless. Roughly a dozen all together, the small herd of cold, naked, frightened humans clung to the lanterns for warmth, and from its warmth they gained courage and understanding.

An epiphany dawned on one of the survivors of the hunt. The light of the lanterns had illuminated them with intelligence itself. It had gifted them with language. One of them would have to speak the first words.