Page 62 of Caveman Alien's Touch

Bronwen is amazing, and I don't want to live without her. But I think now that I must. Already I’m neglecting the clan and its needs. The clan that saved my life and gave me a place to belong, a safe place. She doesn’t understand it. And she has seen the clan closely for days now. If she doesn’t understand it now, then she never will.

“Tomorrow I will take you back to the village,” I tell her and jump down to Dexer’s platform.

He holds on to the ropes to not fall from his now wildly dangling platform. “Are we going?”

“Get us down,” I tell him.

- - -

We’re not familiar with this place, and in the darkness it’s hard to find our way. Dexer frequently stops and listens. I can’t hear any baby sounds over the usual nighttime roar from the jungle, but I trust his hearing.

“That way,” he whispers and points. I lead him in that direction, watching out so he doesn’t put his feet somewhere they’ll make noise or get hurt.

He stops and points again. “There.”

“Are you sure? That’s not the same direction.”

“There.” he repeats with emphasis.

Well, I can’t see much life anywhere, so I have no choice but to go along with him. I’m not at all in the mood for this. My thoughts are dark and hopeless, now that I realized I have to choose between Bronwen and the clan. Brak can be married and spend time in both the camp and the tribe. He’s always enjoyed being away from the clan, and now he’s turning into a Borok man. That’s the last thing I want to be. I’m a Foundling, and I will always be one.

Losing Brak means there’s more for Sprisk and me to do. And I can’t leave the clan alone. Not now, when it looks like we can turn our camp into something similar to a real village. That will take a great deal of work?—

“There,” Dexer whispers, holding me back as he points.

“That’s another directionagain,” I point out, annoyance seeping into my voice. “Is this baby being carried by a rekh that can’t find its nest?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “But it’sthere.”

I sigh and walk in the new direction, passing bushes and trees and having to avoid a Small that’s snapping at my ankles.

The next time Dexer stops, I can hear it too: the thin, mewling cries of a baby.

He points again. “There.”

I don’t ask this time. He’s always sure. We’re zigzagging through the jungle in a way that we’ve never done before when trying to find a baby. But of course this is a new area of the woods, and sound can do strange things.

The noise comes closer and closer as we walk until I stop. “Baby or grub, Dexer?”

He listens for a while, head laid back and mouth half open. “I don’t know.”

“It could be a grub?”

“It could. It could also be a baby carried by tribers. Maybe that’s why it keeps moving around.”

I frown. “Why would anyone want to carry a baby through the woods— ah, of course. To set it out somewhere.”

“Yes. That’s good, Noker! It means the baby won’t be unsafe for long. After the tribers set him down, we can snatch it right away!” His voice is eager. Dexer lives for these moments, the Finding of new Foundlings.

We walk on. “Let’s be careful not to be spotted. Tribers don’t like Foundlings much.”

“Except the Borok tribe, Brak says,” Dexer whispers.

I don’t reply, having some reservations of my own about that.

We change direction one more time, but this time it’s because I can hear the baby myself, and I’m walking straight at it.

I close my eyes and try to use theinfred persepshnthat Bronwen talked about. But the trees block everything.

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