Page 53 of Caveman Alien's Bride

“I see what Tretter tribe can do,” I tell him. “This mug, very fine. The baskets, very carefully made. The chief's hut, very impressive. The village is beautiful. The food is delicious. The men look strong. I would say, the Tretter tribe is not weak.”

The men go quiet and look at me with new interest.

“For hunting, maybe other tribes better,” I continue, my cheeks blushing from all the attention. “For swords, maybe other tribes good too. But all tribes are different.” I point to their impossibly intricate totem pole. “Look! The Tretter tribe is good at many things!”

They all look up at the incredible totem pole as if it's the first time they see it. A deep muttering rises from the men.

I wonder if this tribe isn't suffering from some kind of inferiority complex.

Korr’ax puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes. “It is a good tribe! As I always say in the Borok village, even the best tribe can get better. But we must also remember what we do well and be proud of it.”

“Then we shall be proud of how well our chief Mates with his wife,” someone says. “He must be the best lover on Xren, judging from the sounds!”

14

- Korr'ax -

The men laugh, and I do as well.

Bryar goes red, but she also smiles. “Not just chief is good. Wife did her part, too.”

The tribe roars in approving laughter.

“The tribe has changed,” Breti’ax says into my ear. “When we arrived, they were all angry. Now, they’re making jokes. See how they pick out the best pieces of meat to serve you! And especially Bryar.”

I had noticed the same. Perhaps the Tretter tribe is even better than I thought.

Bryar and I enjoy the meal, and when the rain stops we take a slow walk through the village. We stop by the fence, where Bryar plans to do something to give water to the Lifegivers.

“I will need iron parts,” she tells me. “And some long, round pieces of wood that are hollow.”

She’s excited about it, and I like seeing it. Being under my protection has been good for her.

We go back to the hut and light the fire.

Then we sit talking about the tribe and the jungle and Earth until Bryar falls asleep against my chest.

I carry her up to the bed and pull furs over her.

“I love you,” she mumbles.

“I love you too,” I reply. But she’s back to sleep.

“And so do the men of the Tretter tribe.” I kiss her lips lightly and lie beside her, enjoying the sound of her breathing. I never knew being married would be this way. This is much, much better than I ever thought it would be.

- - -

“The trok coming to the beach is a sign that the skarp may soon follow,” the shaman says.

“It is indeed,” I agree. “We must be ready.”

Breti’ax adjusts his position on the bench. “Last time, the skarp didn’t come near any village that I know of. It may not be a danger this time either. But yes, we must be ready.”

The morning sun shines in through the small openings in the walls. The Tretter tribe is using little pieces of rocks that let the light in, but keeps the rain out. I didn’t notice it before, but it may be useful for the Borok tribe, too.

Indeed this chief’s hut that the Tretter built seems better and better to me. It may not have the same view as I have from the Mount, but it is roomier than my cave and I can have meetings in here. The fact that Bryar is still sleeping upstairs helps me like it, too.

“We must have more men on guard until the skarp has passed,” I begin. “We may—”

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