Page 11 of Caveman Alien's Bride

I smile down at him and tousle his hair. “That's right. What is your name?”

“Epir'ax,” the boy says, eyes wide.

“Epir'ax, I command you to practice junglecraft and sword fighting as often as you can. For when you become a tribesman, when you become a warrior and gain your sword, you and I shall hunt together!”

“Yes, Chief!” the boy beams, glowing with pride.

“Go and practicenow. Waste no time.”

I grin as he runs to tell his friends. Those boys are the future of the tribe. And they can still be saved.

We return to the totem pole, where I reverently stab Prit’oz’s sword into the wood as high up as I can reach. “Let it stay there forever, so that we in the Tretter tribe may be always reminded of what honor looks like!”

Some of the men clear out the chief’s hut for me, taking Prit’oz’s possessions to the pyre so they can be burned with him.

The tribe shaman approaches. “Chief, we have set up a new guard system for the Lifegivers.”

“Setting one up is well and good,” I tell him. “It isfollowingit that has been the problem for this tribe! As well as hunting regularly and tending to the Lifegivers and the creek. But I shall make sure we all do our part!”

“Of course, Chief,” the shaman says. “That is where our prior chief failed. He was too kind to himself, and thus he could not demand much from his men.”

“The Tretter tribe shall find another sort of kindness in their new chief, Shaman Vram’az! Mine is the sort of kindness that may seem harsh in the moment, but which ensures the tribe’s survival and power for years to come.”

“That is true kindness,” the shaman agrees. “I shall get busy with the re-routing of the creek myself.”

I put one arm around his shoulder. “And I shall come with you! We shall work until nightfall. Then we shall honor Prit’oz’s pyre, and tomorrow and in the days to come we shall work on until the tribe is as good as it should always have been!”

As we walk through the village, a thought suddenly appears in my mind: What if I were to take Bryar here? Or to the Borok village, which I also command? She could live in my cave and bemine.

“Shaman,” I begin, suddenly so excited I can barely control my tongue, “tell me everything you know about women, the ones that we had before they were lost. And tell me about how they lived with the men!”

3

- Bryar -

I walk up to Piper, who’s standing on the rock at the left side of the beach. “Anything?”

She pulls the long piece of braided string out of the sea and looks at the baited hook at the end. “Not so far. I’m starting to think silver earrings don’t make the best fish hooks.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the hook,” I tell her. “You shaped it and sharpened it and everything. It’s the best fish hook on the planet.”

Piper gives me a sideways glance. “Are you sure? Now that we know there are other people here? Well, not people, maybe. Alien dudes. Cavemen.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve never seen a caveman do any fishing. As far as we know, this is the best fish hook on this planet, and you are the best fisherwoman. By far.”

Swinging the fishing rod in a short arc, she throws the hook back in. “Well, Ihavecaught fish on it. That was weeks ago. Maybeit’s the bait they don’t like. But I’m not going into the jungle to look for worms. Knowing this planet, they’ll be the size of sewage pipes.”

“I think those shell-like things you use should be more than good enough. Maybe that’s the problem. They’retoodelicious for the fishies.”

The silver hook glints as it sinks into the depths, taking the pink little shell creature with it.

The breeze blows a hank of hair into my face, and I shove it back in place. It’s a fine day on the beach. The surf is hissing, the wind isn’t too strong, the alien sun shines and makes us sweat. We’re both wearing hats made from big, wilted leaves that we sometimes find on the ground under a tall tree nearby. Two of them awkwardly stitched together make a brown, back-to-front sou’wester that gives us the protection we need. Neither Piper or I get that much of a sunburn anyway, but we’re not taking chances.

“You’re in a good mood,” Piper comments. “You’d think you met someone.”

“The caveman? He was pretty good. Saved our lives and everything. And then he left without raiding our hut and stealing all our stuff.”

“Mhm. A regular saint, our Korr'ax.” Piper’s tone is neutral, but I sense she’s suspicious about what exactly happened after I told her to run.

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