Page 3 of Caveman Alien's Touch

“Those too,” Brak agrees as we approach the foot of the mountain. “We will see about getting some for you and Sprisk. We have the steel for it. They’re outcast blades, but we can reforge them.”

“Don’t bother on my account,” I grunt. “I’m doing fine with my spear.”And with that other thing.

“And I do fine with only a knife,” Brak chuckles. “That doesn’t stop me from wanting a larger one.”

The red mountain looms above us. The stairs go from the bottom and snake their way all the way to the top. The view from up there must be marvelous.

I crane my neck to look. “Are we going there?”

“Not today, I think,” Brak replies. “The top of the Mount is where Chief Korr’ax and Bryar live. But they’re in the Tretter tribe for a few days, and I don’t think they want us to visit their cave without them. But take a look at this, Noker.”

Brak points to the rock wall at the lower part of the Mount. A big patch of it is not red like the rest, but shot through with a brilliant white.

“Oh my merciful stars,” I gasp when I see it. “That’s… incredible!”

It’s a painting of a face, at least double or triple normal size. It’s a woman’s face, surrounded by a cloud of hair in a bright red I’ve never seen before. It’s as if the face comes out of the white rock and hovers in mid-air. There are normal wall paintings beside it, but they are made to look pale by that face.

“It is,” Brak says with a tight smile. “Bryar made that. This is the Borok tribe’s totem wall. They don’t have a totem pole, like most other tribes.”

I can’t take my eyes off the face. “It’s Piper, clear as day. But twice as big.”

“Indeed it is my wife,” Brak says, eyes dreamy. “As if I weren’t proud enough of her already. This tribe also realizes her worth.”

I stay at a respectful distance to the great face. It is imposing, and it makes a chill go down my spine. “Their Ancestors are not going to like that. Her face is making those pictures, prayers, and devotions made to them look unimportant.”

Brak shrugs. “I’ve had the same thought, clansbrother. But who are we Foundlings to tell tribers what to do with their own totem wall? I can think of no better way to celebrate women coming to Xren. And the Ancestors haven’t complained yet. The Borok tribe is doing better than ever.”

“While it lasts,” I mutter and turn my back to the wall. “I suppose if Shaman Melr’ax has no problem with it, I shouldn’t worry, either.”

“He doesn’t like it,” Brak says softly so the tribers can’t hear. “But then, he worries about everything these days.”

The smell of food being cooked teases my nose. This tribe burns sweet-smelling wood even when just cooking, the men all look healthy and big, their stripes are bright, and they walk with an easy confidence, going about their tribal business.

As we watch, the gates are opened and a hunting party is let in. The half dozen men carry many gutted Smalls with them, joking and chatting among themselves and with other tribers passing by. Nobody’s keeping their voices down in the village, and if anyone were to attack the tribe, it would be met with the resistance of many men and many swords. Only the largest, fiercest Bigs might have a chance to do damage to the village. And even they would struggle, after Bryar came up with the mirror, the strange disk that can send bright sunlight into the eyes of predators.

“This is what we were robbed of,” I ponder out loud. “When our tribes set us out in the jungle to die as babies, this is the life we could have had if they had let us stay with them instead.”

“Perhaps,” Brak says and adjusts his braided belt. “We don’t know which tribes you and I came from. But I doubt they were as good as the Borok tribe. And even this village was nowhere near as good as it is now before Korr’ax became chief, my Piper tells me. Let’s not dwell on ancient evils, clansbrother! Our Foundling clan is doing better than ever, too.”

“Thanks to you,” I tell him. “Soon we will move our camp to a place where the Borok and Tretter tribes can help protect us against the outcasts. We will share their turf—oh.”

I go quiet as I spot two women coming down the stairs from the Mount. One is Piper, Brak’s wife, easily recognizable because of her red hair, which is now carefully arranged along the sides of her face instead of forming a cloud around it. And the other one…

The breath catches in my throat. Now that is awoman. She’s shorter than Piper, but rounder and with yellow hair instead of flame red. I can tell the exact moment she sees me — her step falters for a heartbeat before she looks down and the little smile she had on her face goes away.

“The women know that you were the one who caught them,” Brak says. “But they’re not angry about it.”

“It wasn’t justme,” I protest. “The whole clan helped trap the phantoms. And we didn’t end up trapping them.”

He chuckles. “Oh, the trap changed a lot of things, even if the women were warned. Without you, there would have been no trap at all.”

“I suppose not,” I concede. I was very curious about the mysterious phantoms that kept stealing from us in the darkness, and I eagerly organized the digging of the pit trap. And I made sure we had bait for it.

Brak ignores me, just looking at his wife as the two women descend the last steps and come over to us. I quickly look down my front, checking that I’m not too dirty and that my loincloth is held straight by the shoulder strap. I suddenly wish I had a sword, showing me as a powerful warrior like the tribers. My unusual head can’t be hidden, but it doesn’t look like these alien women are too concerned about men having some features from Bigs. Brak’s irox nature didn’t stop Piper from marrying him, after all. But I also know that acceptance also has limits. And if they knew all there is to know about me, they would look at me differently.

“Greetings,” Piper says easily with her bright voice as she comes to embrace her husband. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We walked as fast as we could,” Brak says as he hugs her tightly. “And I wanted to show clansbrother Noker the painting of you, my love.”

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