Page 75 of Caveman Alien's Touch

When the sun sets, I’ve reached the conclusion that it kind of does and mostly doesn’t. Mixing the not-flour with water and adding some dried and pulverized fruit, I try to shape it into cookies and bake them on a slab of slate over a fire. The result is too dry, too hard, and too crumbly to be eaten.

“I’d need a baking oven,” I conclude, trying to take a bite of one of the cookies from hell and failing. “So it can be heated from every side. At a steady temperature.”

Piper nods. “I’m sure we can make one.”

I put the rock-hard crumbs in a pot for disposal. “Mhm. Before we start, we should decide if we’re living here or in the Tretter tribe. I don’t want to start a major project before then.”

She gently punches my arm. “Hey, we have time to wait. It’s nice to have a project like this.”

- - -

The next day I get ready to go to the camp with Astrid, Sprisk, and Trat. To my surprise, Alba and Piper and Bryar are coming, too, each carrying a big backpack. So is Sprisk and Trat, I notice.

“I want to see that camp with their fancy platforms,” Alba explains. “I’m not going to be the only tunnel girl who’s not been there. I wouldn’t be able to follow the sophisticated conversation between the well-traveled girls. So embarrassing! Like being the only one of a bunch of snooty friends who hasn’t been to Paris!”

“AndIneed a vacation,” Bryar declares. “You said the camp has three creeks nearby! That’s practically a resort. And I want to see if it’s all-inclusive.”

I scratch my head. “I wonder if I may have over-sold that place a little. I mean, it’s fine, but… it’s not the Paris Sheraton. Like,reallynot. Right, Piper?”

She shoulders her quiver of arrows and checks her bow. “It’s really not. The camp is better than any hotel.”

“No, I mean?—”

“We’ll see,” Alba says and takes my hand. “Let’s get going. If it’s not as nice as you have definitely led us to believe, we’ll just claim a refund.”

I let her drag me along, out of the gates. “Okay… They just had a big fire. You know that, right? You saw the smoke.”

“All the good resorts have some kind of light and smoke show.” Bryar sniffs. “It’s expected these days.”

“And they were attacked by outcasts,” I add.

“Vacations in war zones isallthe rage in our circles.”

“Andthere’s a funeral.”

Alba raises her eyebrows. “Of course we want to do someanthropologywhile there! Observing local rituals and such issoimportant. Hey, aren’t we supposed to be quiet in the jungle? Could you maybe pipe down?”

Sprisk and Trat keep us safe while we walk. I’m so used to walking in the woods now that the walk doesn’t seem so bad. I’m actually really happy that the girls are coming, but I can’t help but worry that they may be disappointed by the Foundling camp. And I’m not sure the clan has the resources to host these women, who are used to the VIP treatment in the Borok tribe.

But it’s fine. Soon I’ll see Noker again. He can deal with everything.

What do I do about him? Does he really need to choose between his clan and me, the way he thinks? Brak sure looks like he’s making it work, being a clansbrother, a Borok man, and Piper’s husband. Why can’t Noker, who’s probably even more capable?

And me? Do I really want to live like Piper? Do I want to hitch my wagon to a Foundling, a half-dinosaur who can see in the dark, jump like a frog, and kill with electric shocks? He is an absolute freak, an alien monster if ever I saw one.

Do I even want tothinkof making a future for myself on an alien planet?

We reach a wall of tall thorn bushes, and Sprisk has to wander around a great deal before he finds a way through them. Then we walk onto a mound of sharp rocks with tall trees all around. Only the faint whiff of burning makes me realize we’re here.

I stop and lay my head back to look up.

Bryar does the same thing. “Oh my…”

The platforms are swaying calmly back and forth way up there. It’s like looking up at a giant mobile.

The burned trees don’t look burned anymore. The dinosaur oil has been removed, somehow, and the smell is just a little smoky. But that could be from the platforms, where thin wisps of smoke are rising from the ceramic stoves they have.

A platform whizzes down, and two big Foundlings step off it.

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