Page 17 of Caveman Alien's Touch

“You two just want another wedding so there will be a party,” I tease. “But that’s not happening. We’re being perfectly proper. Well, mostly proper. He gave me that booze of yours, Piper, and I can’t be responsible for what I did after that. But don’t believe a word you hear about it. Tomorrow we’re going to see the shaman. Not about getting married! It’s only about the wall paintings.”

“You’re the one talking about marriage all of a sudden,” Alba laughs. “We didn’t mention it.”

“But you were about to,” I counter, being giddy with both frit and the events of the day. “Telling me how great Noker is. Sure, he’s fine. But he’s a caveman alien. I don’t have that much in common with him.”

“I didn’t think I had much in common with Brak,” Piper quips. “And still it works really well with us. Bryar and Korr’ax, too.”

I consider drinking more frit, then change my mind. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you and Brak are super happy. All right, it’s been a long day. You girls don’t happen to know what thatpenkgame is, do you?”

“I do,” Alba says. “I asked them. Two guys walk on a slack rope across a deep canyon. They meet in the middle and swat each other with rolled-up sheets of leather until one of them falls to his death. The other is the winner, but to preserve his honor he also has to jump. They both die.”

I feel blood draining from my face. “They both die? You mean… it’s…”

Piper’s jaw hangs open. “Seriously?!”

Alba grins. “No, not seriously. I didn’t actually ask.”

I slap her shoulder, relieved. “You’re terrible! You really had me going!”

“Itissomething these guys might come up with,” Piper agrees. “But even they aren’tthatcrazy.”

“Sorry,” Alba says and glares at the mug in her hand. “That was a bad joke. I blame the frit. Stop it, frit! It’s not funny!” She shakes the mug sternly.

“It’s cool,” I assure her. “Now, whatever the game turns out to be, we’ll be relieved if as much as one of them survives.”

“It might be fun to watch,” Piper says. “And whatever happens, it could be a good chance for the Foundlings to show that they’re just as good with their weapons as the tribesmen.”

We talk for a while before we climb the stairs to our caves. The party isn’t showing any signs of ending, but the drumming has slowed and most of the cavemen are sitting down. Noker is chatting with Brak and some Borok men, his head fan a calm blue.

My own cave is one of the smaller ones that have been dug into the Mount, but it’s high enough up that the air is fresh and the view is pretty nice in the daytime. And it can be secured by pulling up the rope ladder, so nobody can surprise me at night. For extra safety, all we tunnel girls have been given a small knife to defend ourselves.

I curl up on the furs and close my eyes. The taste of the poisonous plant is gone, and being thrown over Noker’s shoulder and carried through the woods is a stronger memory than the dactyl attacking. The one event from today that I linger on is the shower. There is something special about his touch, something so noticeable that it got me thinking of electric eels, despite never having seen one. But it has to be something like that.

I try to push those thoughts away and think of something else, but Noker fills my mind with his presence. Well, I did spend all day with him, so it’s not that weird. Kissing him was just because of the frit I had. It doesn’t mean I’m interested in him as anything other than a friend. I have to make a life here in the village, and he was just the first caveman I talked to for more than thirty seconds. That’s all.

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Noker is sitting at the table by the totem wall when I walk down the stairs the next morning.

“Greetings,” he says when he sees me, head fan mostly blue and green. He puts down a bone he’s been gnawing on. “The food is good in this village.”

“It is.” I sit down and eat a piece of fruit, but I was never that hungry in the mornings. “Do you think the shaman is awake?”

Noker gets up and stretches, making every muscle in his body stand out. Any bodybuilder on Earth would have fainted from envy. “I don’t think he sleeps much anymore.”

I get up too. “Because he’s afraid he’ll die in his sleep?”

Noker grins. “Because he’s old. He’s not afraid of dying, our dear Melr’ax.”

We walk over to the shamans hut.

Noker goes up to the door. “Shaman Melr’ax, it’s Bronwen and Noker. We would like to speak with you.”

There’s movement inside the hut, and after a minute or so the door opens and an old, skinny caveman squints out against the daylight. He’s wearing a kilt-like thing like the Borok men, along with a sword and belt. “Clansbrother Noker? Really? Come in, my dear boy. And your friend as well. Bronwen, yes? I have seen you in the village sometimes.”

“Thank you.” The caveman language is easy to understand with a bit of practice, but harder to speak. The grammar is simple, but learning the words takes time because they are completely different from English. Still, we tunnel girls practice a good deal, and Piper and Bryar help us with that. Now, I understand most things that are said.

We enter the hut, which is roomier than my cave in the Mount. The ceiling is high above us, and the walls are mostly bare. There’s an altar and several items that must have to do with the shaman’s duties, as well as simple furniture and a big bed filled with furs. It smells of herbs and freshly cut wood.

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