As the permafrost disappeared from the fjords of Edwinland – gosh, I’d absolutely kill to be living through a miniature Ice Age right now – Norel, shaman of the Moon tribe, gathered his people to make a fateful proclamation. The tribe had prospered during the colder years, fishing and hunting boar as they traversed the steppes, but that prosperity had its drawbacks: our population had swelled past 40. We had far too many quarrelsome youths, bumping elbows around the campfires.…