A man walks through the snow-covered mountains at an altitude of 3,200 metres. He had stuffed his auroch skin shoes with grass, put on two coats and a bearskin hat. He was carrying a backpack, a deerskin quiver containing twenty arrowheads, a flint dagger, a copper axe and a deer antler tool. In a birch bark basket, he was carrying smouldering charcoal wrapped in young maple leaves. He was only about forty years old but his progress was difficult. He wanted to run, to escape from his pursuers, but he couldn't anymore. Perhaps he was afraid... This suffering and tired man was not yet famous, but he was going to be. A few moments later, he would die and his body would only be found five millennia later, at the very place of his death...