Page 47 of Caveman Alien's Touch

We sit in silence for another few minutes.

Noker leans in. “I can see them. Five men, standing still not far away. I will try to lure them away so they don’t set up a night camp this close to us. Sit still.” He gets to his feet, quietly unties the ropes, and slowly lowers the platform down to the other ones. “Bronwen, you can keep brother Dexer company.” He helps me crawl over to another platform, where strong arms grab me and wordlessly position me so the platform is steady.

Then Noker is gone.

“Greetings, Bronwen,” Dexer whispers, staring past me with his blind eyes. “Clansbrother Noker has work to do. But you can sleep as well here as on his platform.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. But I don’t like Noker being alone down there with five outcasts.

At least an hour goes by without any sign of Noker. Below us, the jungle is quiet.

Dexer’s platform sways gently back and forth, creaking like a wooden ship.

“It may be a while yet,” he whispers and hands me a folded-up piece of dinosaur leather. “He must get the outcasts as far away as possible.”

I get the hint, so I lie down and curl up on the rough wood with my head on the leather bundle. I know I won’t be able to get any sleep.

When I wake up, the jungle is getting lighter and the night sounds have given way to the louder daytime noises.

Dexer is sitting beside me, blind eyes staring up at the treetops. “He’s not back yet.”

I inch closer to the edge of the platform and peer down. I instantly regret it — the platform is only halfway up to the treetops, but still really high up from the ground. I grab onto two ropes and cling to them.

There are more platforms hanging above us and below, maybe two dozen of them. Some have little huts on them, which I know from Piper’s story are there to dampen the cries from the small babies inside. There are men sitting or lying on each platform, sometimes two, sometimes three or four boys. They all sway gently back and forth, and most of the Foundlings are asleep.

“Can we go down?” I ask carefully. “I have to… hmm.”

Dexer gets it right away. “Of course. I haven’t heard any danger for a while.” With fingers as sure as if he had perfect eyesight, he undoes the knots, grabs the rope, and lowers us down fast. I step down on the ground and just stand there, getting used to the lack of swaying down here.

I take care of my errand and return. More of the Foundlings are waking up, and some are on the way down.

I’m not too interested in going up again with Dexer. There’s nothing to do up there except worry about Noker.

A big man steps off his platform. It’s Sprisk, the third Foundling who’s half dinosaur.

“Greetings, Bronwen,” he says quietly. “Brother Noker has not returned yet.” He has to speak carefully so that the spikes on his chin and jaw don’t strike his chest.

“He been gone for a long time,” I point out. “Is he in danger?”

Sprisk looks into the jungle. “We’ve heard no sounds of battle. But he should have been back by now.”

“Should we look for him?”

Sprisk thinks about it. “We have nobody to send. I must stay here and guard the camp in case the outcasts return.”

I can see why. Most of the men in the clan have some disability that might make them less than ideal fighters. Normally, Sprisk would have the help of Brak and Noker for the toughest tasks, but now he’s been having to do it all for several days.

“I’ll go,” I offer in an impulse that I know might kill me. But sitting here just waiting is not good for my anxiety.

Sprisk looks me up and down. “Do you have a weapon?”

I draw my knife and show it to him. “This is sharp enough.”

“Noker would never forgive me if I let you go into the jungle alone and with no weapon,” he rumbles. “It is far too dangerous, even for one of us with a weapon.”

“Lend me a spear,” I suggest. “Someone has to look for him. He may lie injured in woods. I know what to do.”

He frowns. “Are you a healer?”

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