Beside the Shore

Beside the shore. A battle is taking place.
It is the Stone Age.
We have attacked a rival group and slain a great many of them by the shore. Piled up beside a rocky outctop in the surf is a pile of bodies.
I notice a severed head, grey and skeletal. I begin to throw largish lumps of rock at it from a little distance, squatting there in the sand.
One of the enemy group is left alive. As I continue to throw rocks at the head, I think to myself that it will eventually be destroyed, perhaps one more rock will reduce it to pulp, like a rotten fruit.

The remaining enemy is struggling among the small waves breaking over the sand, floundering. Perhaps he is to be taken alive. Before anyone can stop him though, one of our party mounts the rocky outcrop and heaves onto the enemy a large, smooth slab of pink sandstone which crushes him and pins him down where he struggles, coughing and drowning.
His foetal position in the water. Suffocation.