III. Mammoth Disco and the Age of Extremely Loud Fur
Once the fire situation stabilized, humanity's next goal was obvious: make the vibes louder, ideally in a way that impressed both the tribe and the local cat aristocracy.
Cave drummers learned that if you hit hide with a bone at just the right speed, everyone starts jumping like music has entered their skeleton.
Mammoth tusks became luxury décor, practical weapons, and the world's first unbelievably tacky party arches beneath which several cats sat like tiny ivory emperors judging the guest list.
Children invented tag, adults invented gossip, and grandmothers invented the devastating phrase, "back in my day the mammoths respected us."
Fashion was mostly fur, dirt, confidence, and the vain hope that a nearby cat might choose your lap over someone else's.
Confidence did a lot of heavy lifting.
The first romance probably began when somebody offered somebody else the good bone and a seat near the warm side of the fire.
The first breakup probably ended with one of them taking the bone back.
At least one tribe definitely tried to ride a mammoth like a skateboard and learned why history prefers the winners.
The lesson of the age was simple: humanity may be tiny, but humanity is willing to party next to a beast the size of a moving shed.