I am a very important person, you may know me. I am Otzi. Most don’t like the decisions I make, so I have a lot of enemies. Everyone knows that I’m very sick and most doctors can’t help me. It’s sad. I’m a small man, and old. I live in Neolithic, south of the Alps. I was getting even more sick and I know a doctor that lives far away, but he can help me. Word spread fast that I was leaving, but I didn’t care. I was going on a very dangerous journey. I put on three layers of cloth and I packed everything I needed even weapons in case I was attacked. Someone did attack me I killed the person, who attacked me, but I used a lot of arrows so I stopped to make some more and I was tired. I felt a sharp pain hit me and go into my back. As I was getting light headed and saw an arrow poking out out of my shoulder. I tried to pull it out. Then someone from behind cut my hand. To keep me from pulling it out. Then pushed it in farther. I tried to stay standing. Then with all his might, he dug his knife into my neck. Know one knew it was going to be the last steps I would ever take.