Page 48 of Caveman Alien's Touch

“Yes,” I lie. “I know the plants and… everything.” I’m genuinely worried now. It might be that Noker is about to die from some wound. And I know there’s quicksand in this jungle. He may actually need someone to rescue him.

Sprisk thinks about it, then takes hold of Dexer’s platform. “You are indeed brave, Bronwen. But for a small woman to go into the woods alone is too dangerous. I will send someone else. Dexer, take her high up, please.”

I back off two paces. “Noker has saved me many times. I owe him.”

“We all owe Noker and Brak our lives many times over,” Sprisk snorts. “Someone else shall go.”

I spin around and run for the edge of the jungle. I can’t leave this to Noker. The Foundlings are kind, but they’re not great in the woods, from what I hear. Not that I’m much better, but after years of living in tunnels, I’m pretty good at staying out of sight.

Nobody comes after me, so I slow down to a light jog. I know which way Noker went, but Sprisk has a point. I would feel much better with a real weapon, and not just a knife. The jungle is teeming with raptors and terrible insects. ButIalso have a point — I do owe him.

And I have been walking through the jungle with him for a whole day. I know a few things about how he would move through the woods.

As I walk on, I’m more and more struck by the craziness of my choice. “Not the smartest thing I’ve done,” I mutter to myself, glancing up at the mighty, dark trees that tower over me. “But I do like the guy.”

I’m on a hair trigger. Whenever I spot even the slightest hint of movement, I dart behind a root or crawl under a bush or hide behind a boulder. Twice I hide from predators — once a small raptor that doesn’t see me, and once a centipede the size of a couch, with black mandibles like scythes. I don’t stay hidden long each time. I reason that if I’m scared of the things, then every other creature is, too. So walking in the predator’s tracks may save me some trouble. The raptor especially is going in my direction, and I follow it for a good while, making sure it can’t see me. It never stops and looks behind itself, not expecting anyone to be crazy enough to stay this close to it.

When the raptor gets away from me, I keep going and cross paths with several smaller creatures that I know the cavemen hunt. Those aren’t all that shy, but it has to be a good sign for my stealth that they don’t notice me at all. If I had a better weapon, I could actually hunt them.

I go through the woods until about noon without a pause. Then I stop and pick some berries as my lunch. There’s been no sign of Noker, and I start to think about returning to the Foundling camp. Maybe he’s there now, worried about me?—

There’s a rustle in the bushes behind me. I slowly turn, not wanting to make any sudden movements that might alarm or alert a predator. My hand seeks the hilt of my knife and pulls it halfway out of its sheath.

“Woman Bronwen,” says a bright, eager voice. “I’m here to help you.”

16

- Noker-

“We should kill them all,” the grim voice says. “They’re in our way.”

“The Foundlings?” asks the voice I think I know. “How are they in the way? I haven’t even seen them out here in the woods.”

I raise my head to see them more closely. The bush I’m hiding behind is really too small, forcing me to lie down on the ground.

I know there are five of them, and I have been following them all night and most of the day because I think I recognize one of the voices. But I don’t dare get into view. They all have swords, and I don’t. While I could probably outrun them, I don’t want them to know I’m here at all. And accidents happen. Running men can trip over roots or run into nests of predators. I’ve done both myself, and I have the scars to show for it.

“I’m sure we passed right by the Foundling camp last night,” says the first. “I could smell the smoke from their fires. It must have been close. They’re in our way because they hunt and harvest outside the tribe turfs, which is where we would also do it. Often we return from hunts empty-handed! But if we got rid of the Foundlings, there would be more for us. We wouldn’t have to hunt on the turf of some tribe, making them angry and having them hunt us down. I’ve had enough of the Borok tribe and their friends, I tell you.”

“Of course, what we could do,” a third, smooth voice says with relish, “is take them captive. At least the boys. Then we would have nice, tender dinners for many days. Have you ever had young flesh? It’s the tenderest thing you’ll ever taste. Oh, just the thought makes my mouth water!”

The group goes silent, probably imagining it.

“If we do anything, it should be now,” says the first man. “That half-irox is in the Borok tribe right now, and he’s the main danger for us.”

“That one with the silly head is also a problem,” growls the second man with the familiar voice. “Believe me.”

I look behind me, not wanting to be spotted by a predator while I’m lying here. I do have my spear, but I’m not here to fight anyone.

I’ve followed the outcasts all night and most of the day. They keep talking about things that concern me a great deal.

I want to know where the outcast camp is, and what they’re planning. Especially now that we’ll be moving our Foundling camp to a new place.

But I didn’t know that what I heard would be this terrible. Some people say that the gangs of outcasts will eat men if they can, but I never believed it. Now I’ve heard it with my own ears.

“Where are the others?” the first voice says impatiently. “We should plan the attack.”

“And find the camp,” says the familiar voice. “I think that should come first. How can we plan if we don’t know where it is?”

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