Page 52 of Caveman Alien's Touch

I make a ring of round rocks, and Trat comes dragging a whole dead tree. It’s twice as tall as me, all dry branches and a thick, dry trunk that I’m sure will burn just fine.

“Good,” I praise the boy. “Trat is chief of both jungle and swamp.”

He gives me a shy smile and dumps the tree on the ground. “But I’m not good at making fire.”

I arrange the kindling in the ring I’ve made and break pieces off the dry tree. “I will try.”

It’s one of the things a tunnel girl has to be good at, and Astrid and Alba and I did it many times. I get two suitable pieces of wood, make an indentation in the middle of one, place it on the ground, and then place the tip of the other in the little hole. Then it’s just a matter of rolling the last piece fast between my hands, pushing down to create friction and heat. I crumble up dry kindling and put it in the hole, and soon wisps of smoke are rising. Blowing on the embers, I quickly make a loose bundle of straw and leaves, put the embers inside, and transfer the bundle to the fire, always blowing on it. Flames start to appear, and the kindling catches.

“That’s quick,” Trat says, clearly impressed. “In the camp, we always use the embers from the fire the night before.”

I get as comfortable as I can by the fire. “Where I lived, we always had to make new fire. Embers were dangerous for us.”

The boy nods wisely. “In the tribe.”

“In the tunnels,” I correct him. “I only been in the Borok tribe for some days.”

“Brak says the Borok tribe is mighty and their village is great.”

I shrug. “Is a good tribe, I think. Chief Korr’ax is good.”

“Our clan is good, too,” Trat states. “We don’t need a chief to command us. We know what to do without being told.”

I hide a smile behind one hand. That must be something he heard from Noker and Brak, who always want their clansbrothers to be proud. “That’s right. The camp is very wonderful. The Borok tribe does not have platforms like the clan.”

“They have caves and huts,” Trat says and puts thedraproots on the fire. “And a red mountain.”

I pull a small twig out from under me where it’s been irritating my rear. “I’m sure you will visit, Trat. The clan is friends with the Borok tribe.”

“They will protect us and let us hunt on their turf,” he agrees. “And we will makealkoland ropes for them.”

“That’s right.” I lift my head and look around. This island is not a bad place to spend the night. The squawking creature is still at it, but if it hasn’t attacked us yet, maybe it never will. The air is stale and humid, but I think Trat is right about dinosaurs not liking the moisture.

“Will Noker live in the Borok village?” Trat asks, looking into the fire.

“I don’t think so,” I reply carefully. “They like him, but he likes the clan more. Just like Brak does.”

“The clan needs Noker. When he’s not there, everyone is more afraid. Nothing happens then.”

“The other clansbrothers don’t do anything?”

He hesitates. “Wewantto. But Noker and Sprisk don’t like it when we go into the jungle. Or when we try to do things thattheyusually do.”

“They don’t let you do the work?”

“Sometimes they don’t.” Trat straightens, probably not wanting to even get close to saying something negative about a clansbrother. “But Noker is nice. Always smiling and joking.”

I smile. “Everyone likes him, huh?”

“He’s a great hunter, and he likes to play with us. He teaches us many things. I want him to teach me to hunt with only my hands, but I can’t do it like he can.”

I frown. “With only your hands? But you have a spear.”

“Noker also has a spear, but he likes to hunt with only his hands. Once he killed a rekh!”

I’m sure I must be misunderstanding this. Surely nobody, not even Noker, can take down a raptor with his bare hands. “He killed a rekh with his hands?”

“Yes. It was attacking him and he didn’t have his spear. So he killed it,” Trat says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

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