Page 64 of Caveman Alien's Terror

She keeps her claws out of the monster until the last moment. Then she goes wild, hisses and scratches at the dactyl’s eyes with all six talons.

The dactyl screeches in fury, breaks off its attack, flaps its wings, and turns back up. At the lowest point in the curve, Luna jumps off the monster, falls through the air, and lands lightly on her feet.

The cavemen grab me and carry me into the relative safety of the jungle.

“Thank you,” I tell them when they set me down. “We all got across safely.”

“Some would say it’s unwise to risk one’s life for a wild Small,” the leader says calmly. “And to endanger others for the same reason.”

Luna comes over to me and looks up with all three eyes.

“I understand,” I reply. “I’m sorry, but taking care of Luna is one of my shaman’s duties. She helps me understand the nature of the world. I am grateful for your help, warriors.”

“Without the stevik, this would not have turned out so well,” he continues. “I’m glad you two are reunited. I am Rater’ax, by the way. Shall we go on?”

“Which way, Rater’ax?” I ask. “We’re on the right side now, but the Ceremat village could be anywhere.”

“We found a well-used trail,” he tells me and points to a spot that looks like any other spot in the woods. “I suspect it leads to their village. It seems they are not used to covering their tracks on their own turf. Are you ready, Shaman?”

“Lead on, Rater’ax,” I tell him. My heart rate isn’t even that high. It feels like nothing matters that much.

We keep walking. The jungle on this side is much the same as on the other, humid and dense with bushes and plants. The canopy of leaves is high above us as we walk on, and it gets dark fast.

Luna stays close to me. I muse that she must have some kind of instinct for taking down dactyls. Or maybe she was improvising the whole thing.

“You’re amazing,” I tell her, daring to stroke along her back. “You saved us all.”

The escort leader waits for me to catch up with him. “We intend to keep going until midnight. We would prefer to come upon the Ceremat village in daylight. If we find it in the dark, we won’t try to enter, but wait outside their gates. Not all tribes appreciate uninvited night-time visitors.”

“All right,” I agree. I don’t have the energy to get excited about maybe seeing Cora again soon. It feels like it won’t make much difference.

At midnight we set up a small camp. I lie down by the fire and expect to sleep immediately, because it’s been a long day and I’m bone tired.

But of course I end up tossing and turning on the ground, my mind busy with Praxigor until the jungle starts to light up again. Only then do I doze off in a fitful sleep.

“We’re close to their village,” Rater’ax says when I wake up and rub my eyes. “We will be there in two hundred heartbeats.”

Translating his caveman units to Earth time, I think he means that we’re maybe ten minutes away.

I arrange myself as well as I can, but there are limits to how presentable I can be after a night of sleeping outside. I’m stillwearing my old dress, and while it’s tempting to change into the one that Bryar sent, it might be useful to have one to change into later.

Rater’ax takes my backpack. “I will carry this. It’s not proper to let the shaman carry her own pack when others go nearly unburdened.”

The Ceremat tribe has a wall that’s similar to the Borok tribe’s, very tall and made from sharpened logs. There’s a narrow gate that I guess is the main entrance. I can hear deep voices chatting and laughing in there, and the column of gray smoke tells me that the tribe is having their breakfast.

Rater’ax knocks hard on the gate with the hilt of his sword. “Shaman Astrid of the Borok tribe requests entrance to the Ceremat village!” he bellows.

A minute goes by with nothing happening, except that the chatting has stopped.

The gate creaks open. Two burly cavemen with brown stripes stand in the opening, hands on their swords and looking mean. Behind them there are many more. I can’t see Cora anywhere, though.

“State your errand, warriors,” one of them rumbles.

“This is Shaman Astrid of the Borok tribe,” Rater’ax says. “She is an envoy of Chief Karr’ox of the Borok and Tretter tribes. We wish to enter, so that she may present Chief Karr’ox’s offer of friendship with the Ceremat tribe.”

For a moment I start to worry that this isn’t the Ceremat tribe at all. It could be a totally different one, for all we know.

“While we have never heard of any of those tribes,” one of the men says, “you have chosen a good time to see us. We’re also intrigued by your woman that you call your shaman. You may enter the village of the Ceremat tribe.”

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