Page 33 of Caveman Alien's Bride

“This is the heart of the rekh that killed Gerut’on,” I slowly explain. “Men from the tribe found the rekh, dead from the slash I gave it. They cut out the claws and the teeth. And the heart. Of course, the whole heart is much bigger than this. This is only the center of the heart, the heart’s heart, where the rekh stored its strength. When you eat it,youtake that strength. I want my wifeto be strong. Eat it.” I hold it out to her with both hands.

9

- Bryar -

It’s a piece of meat the size of my fist. It’s dark red and has a crust of dried blood. From what I understand of Korr'ax’s explanation, it’s part of the not-raptor that killed the shaman. I think it’s the heart. And now he wants me to eat it.

It’s not exactly appetizing. Raw internal organs were never my favorite food, dinosaur meat even less. Still, the idea is weirdly exciting. I’m in a cave with flickering light from a fire, there’s slow drumming and chanting reaching us from the village, I just saw a funeral pyre being lit, and Korr'ax is wearing a big headdress made from dinosaur teeth and claws.

It’s all so incredibly, steamingly otherworldly and primitive that it speaks to something deep inside me. It feels like an initiation, of being accepted into this new world. Korr’ax’s deep, calm voice is hypnotic, and I don’t want to break this mood. He makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world right now.

Or maybe it’s just the fruit wine I had. Whatever the reason, I’m not going to chicken out.

As if standing beside myself, I reach out and accept the leaf with the dinosaur heart on it. It’s unexpectedly heavy. But it doesn’t smell bad.

I bring it to my mouth, close my eyes, and take a small nibble. The taste is salty and also sweet, like the caramelized crust of a grilled steak. Which I suppose I can pretend that this is. Steeling myself, I bite into the heart and rip off a piece, feeling the cold blood squirt out. Yes, it’s just like steak. A medium rare steak, carefully cooked by Gordon Ramsay and then cooled because everyone knows that’s the best way to eat steak.

It’s not even that tough. I chew the small piece of raw meat and swallow, then open my eyes.

Korr'ax takes the heart and then bites into it himself, fangs glinting in the firelight. Blood runs down his chin as he chews.

He puts the rest of the heart in the fire, making it hiss. Then he hands me a pot of frit.

I gulp down a few mouthfuls, and then he does the same. I guess raptor heart isn’t his favorite, either.

“Now part rekh,” I say, touching my chest.

He nods seriously. “The rekh is your totem Big,” he says, if I understand him correctly. “Mine is the kronk.”

I’m not surprised. Of coursehishas to be the T. Rex-like dinosaur. Korr'ax has the same overwhelming quality to him.

I reach up to touch his headdress. “Kronk teeth?”

He smiles and takes it off, showing it to me and pointing to the various parts. “Kronk teeth. Kronk claws. Rekh claws.”

He reaches out to touch the necklace he put around my neck at the wedding. “Irox claws. Irox teeth.”

“What irox is?”

“Irox are Bigs that fly.” He stretches his arms out and slowly flaps them. It should be a funny sight, but he manages to make it chilling, as if the flying dinosaur was in the cave with us. The shadow he casts on the wall really looks like a flying monster.

“Danger Big?” I ask, glancing nervously towards the cave opening.

“Very dangerous Big,” he confirms. “But not many here. Only sometimes. I will protect you against all Bigs.”

“You protect me against the rekh,” I say, trying an advanced sentence.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re speaking well already. Yes. I protected you. But not Shaman Gerut’on.” He looks away, clearly blaming himself.

“Gerut’on was warrior,” I remind him softly. “Had sword. Me, not sword.”

“He had a sword, but no shaman is a good warrior. If only I had moved quicker, perhaps I could have hit the rekh before it killed him.”

I notice Korr'ax is keeping his sentences simple for me, while not dumbing them down. He keeps showing me hidden depths, and I appreciate that.

“Perhaps,” I use the new word, guessing what it means. The frit is making me brave. “Perhaps if Gerut’on not drop sword, rekh not kill he.”

“Yes. He fumbled with the sword. But I was his chief. I should have made sure he practiced with his sword more before he went into the jungle to wed us!” He places one hand over his eyes.

---