Page 10 of Caveman Alien's Touch

I pull the sweatshirt over my head. “We in their village. Maybe just needed water. Boys like look at strange people.”

He straightens his loincloth, where the bulge is bigger than ever. “At least we got clean.”

I wipe the last of the water off my hands. “Yes. Very clean.” I’m annoyed and frustrated that we got interrupted. But it may have been a good thing. I don’t know if I would have wanted to stop what was about to happen. I’m still wearing my jeans, but my mind was toying with unzipping. Now, the spell has been broken and maybe I can act more responsibly.

“But damn, it felt good,” I mutter to myself.

We walk back to the main square. The warriors we saw earlier have already brought in some parts of the dactyl and dumped them on the ground, and now they’re busy cutting out the teeth and the claws.

“It’s a big irox,” one of them says when they see us. “You stabbed it out of the sky with one thrust of that spear? There’s only one wound, but it’s deep.”

“Lucky thrust,” Noker says with satisfaction. “Sometimes a spear is almost as good as a sword.”

I’m a little puzzled about that. He didn’t stab it out of the sky, the way he wants them to think — he hugged it so hard it was paralyzed for a second, and that made it crash. That seems more impressive to me than using a weapon. But I’m not a caveman, of course.

“But Foundlings don’t use swords,” a Borok man quips. “They are not proper tribes. Do you even have steel and forges? But of course you do. With that head, it must be your job to fan the flames!”

There’s some chuckling among the tribesmen.

I see Noker’s face darkening, as well as his head fan. The grip on his spear tightens. “We have better steel than you,” he growls. “Because we take it from the tribers we kill in the woods. Did you lose someone in the jungle recently? I think the steel in my spear came from the sword of an orange-striped man.”

The tribesmen go quiet, and some of them take hold of the hilts of their swords as they glare at Noker.

“Fair enough,” the first man says loudly, trying to calm his men. “We haven’t actually lost someone in the jungle since the war with the Krast tribe. We’re simply admiring your skill with the spear, friend. We don’t use those much. But clearly we should practice more with them, if a spearman can down even irox.” He sends me a glance, as if asking for my help.

Noker’s head fan is a deep crimson and he looks genuinely scary, yellow eyes shooting lightning bolts.

I grab his wrist. “Let’s go, Noker. I want to show you something.”

The giant caveman reluctantly lets me pull him with me until he turns his back to the Borok men. “That’s no way to treat a guest who gave them an irox.”

“They were just envy,” I say as soothingly as I can. “Theynever kill irox with one thrust. Or alone.”

“It is as my clansbrothers said before I came here,” he frets. “The tribes hate the Foundlings, despite what their chiefs may say.”

“If they hate, is only because they afraid. You very big and scary, Noker. Use spear better than they use swords.”

We reach the stairs going up the Mount, and Noker stops. “Chief Korr’ax and his wife are not here today. Perhaps they won’t like it if I go up.”

I look up at him. “Perhaps, butIlike if you go up.”

He gives me the shadow of a smile. “Ah. Then everything is in order.”

“Very in order.” I drag him up the whole stairway until we’re on the plateau.

“Noker, this is Alba,” I introduce them. “And the woman in there is Astrid. Alba, meet Noker.”

“Greetings,” Noker rumbles and gives her a small bow.

“Greetings, Noker,” Alba says. She’s put on her patched sweatpants and is now busy with our precious scissors and a big piece of brown fabric. “You are man who made trap.”

I cringe at her words. I’m not sure Noker needs that accusation right now.

“I did,” Noker says calmly, his fan back to its normal pattern. “And I praise the stars that the trap failed to catch the phantoms.”

“Also I,” Alba says and gives him one of her bright smiles. “Thank you for making trap, Noker. If not made, Astrid and Bronwen and I not here now.”

“Perhaps,” he says smoothly, looking out at the view. “But such capable women as you three would have been doing just fine, even if I hadn’t made it.”

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