I have often thought that that cold winter was a fore-runner of the countless cold winters to come, as the ice-sheet from farther north crept down over the face of the land.

But we never saw that ice-sheet.
Many generations must have passed away before the descendants of the horde migrated south, or remained and adapted themselves to the changed conditions.
Life was hit or miss and happy-go-lucky with us.

Little was ever planned, and less was executed.

We ate when we were hungry, drank when we were thirsty, avoided our carnivorous enemies, took shelter in the caves at night, and for the rest just sort of played along through life.
We were very curious, easily amused, and full of tricks and pranks.
There was no seriousness about us, except when we were in danger or were angry, in which cases the one was quickly forgotten and the other as quickly got over.
We were inconsecutive, illogical, and inconsequential.

We had no steadfastness of purpose, and it was here that the Fire People were ahead of us.