Page 70 of Caveman Alien's Touch

The smoke gets thicker and thicker as I go on, especially up in the treetops where I hope the platforms are now. It does smell like perendi. Hopefully the clansbrothers have the sense to lower the platforms so they don’t suffocate. And hopefully they remember what Melr’ax told them about the perendi tree and how to deal with the smoke.

I spot the group of outcasts, standing casually in the middle of our camp, swords out and looking up, chatting and laughing as my clansbrothers suffocate above them.

I’m filled with an anger so white-hot that I can’t control it. Shaman Melr’ax has told us to not kill if we don’t have to, and he’s implored me specifically to control my Big side as much as possible and not use my special gifts. I have tried to adhere to his words of wisdom.

Right now, with my clan and Bronwen in danger, I can’t control myself. It’s simply not possible. The Big in me is in charge. A spear would have been completely superfluous. I have better ways, if only I allow myself to use them. I haven’t before. But now I can’t stop it.

My vision goes narrow and crisply sharp as I pick out the first of the outcasts to kill.

25

- Bronwen-

The coughing from inside the smoke is getting louder. The Foundlings are lowering their platforms to get away from the thickest smoke, but it’s not much better further down. The fire is still going, and the outcasts have lit the oil around another tree. It doesn’t make as much smoke, but the bark is dry and the fire is creeping upwards.

Unin’iz twirls his sword in his hand and lays the edge at Trat’s throat. “Some of my new friends enjoy the meat of boys like you. Shall I ask them to grill or boil you? Would you prefer to be alive or dead? But I’m not sure you can choose.”

Trat whimpers in fear and tries to crawl away.

There are muffled screams coming from the smoke. The Foundlings must be dying.

Filled with coldness, I conquer my revulsion and go close to Unin’iz, putting my cheek on his arm and looking up at him with the closest thing to a seductive look I can manage right now. “Unin’iz, let’s go somewhere else,” I purr. “I need to Mate.”

He looks down at me, surprised. “Oh… I… really? Yes, of course you do.”

I have to get him away from Trat and from the camp. He’s the leader of the outcasts, and without him they might not kill everyone. I will have to sacrifice myself for that slim possibility. I can always kill myself afterwards?—

“Stop.”The voice is flat and cold, with a gravelly tinge to it.

Unin’iz shifts the grip on his sword and squints into the smoke. “Don’t give me orders, outcast! Know your place!”

But it’s not one of his men. A huge, nightmarish shape emerges from the swirling smoke. There are yellow eyes like searchlights and a great circle of glittering gold and blue around them, slowly changing and moving. I’ve never seen that before, but it looks deadly.

Unin’iz sees it too and grabs my arm, backing off. “Stay back, Foundling!”

“That may be a Foundling,” I tell him, my voice raspy. “But mostly, it’s a predator.”

Noker comes closer, walking smoothly on powerful legs, not speaking, no expression on his face. He reminds me so much of a real predator dinosaur that I start to fear him. Those eyes are the coldest things I’ve ever seen. His alien nature has never been more prominent.

Unin’iz panics and turns to run. He gets two paces when his knee buckles because of Trat’s spear. He screams as he falls, then curls up and pulls back his sword to throw it. But he’s not focusing on Noker. He’s about to get revenge on him by killingme.

He flicks his wrist. The great blade comes spinning at my face.

It’s stopped by a blur of blue stripes.

Noker throws the sword away into the bushes and grabs Unin’iz. With him this close, my hair stands on end, like a halo around my head. The air itself crackles with rage like a thousand thunderstorms.

There’s a sharpbangand a blinding flash of blue lightning. Unin’iz goes limp between Noker’s hands.

For a long time the Foundling stands there with the dead caveman. The patterns of his head fan move like a kaleidoscope in every color of the jungle.

Then he drops the enemy to the ground and turns to face me. “Pretend you didn’t see that.”

My knees give in and I drop, curling up on the ground. “Noker.”

His eyes are normal now, still yellow, but with a spark of humanity in them. “Bronwen. My love. I came too late.” He comes in and lifts me in strong arms.

After the first hard shot of relief, I pull myself together. “Trat is injured. And the clansbrothers!”

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