Page 28 of Caveman Alien's Heat
He speaks with immense authority, and I spot some of the hunters staring at him in wonder. And while I recognize that the situation is deadly serious, I don’t feel that deep fear for my life that I would expect. It’s as if I somehow know that Nator’ax will handle this and keep me safe.
Hoker’iz considers this. “You are clearly a mighty warrior, Nator’ax. Note the respect we have shown you by not taking your weapon from you. Your caves will be next to each other. I hereby state that Riley will come to no harm from the Gar tribe. She is under your protection, and now she is also under mine. Does that satisfy you, warrior?”
“For now,” Nator’ax growls.
Prak’ox steps forward. “I will show the woman her shelter.”
“I can walk myself,” I say automatically.
He nods once. “Of course.”
Before I follow him, I look up at Nator’ax.
“You be close?” I ask quietly.
“I will be as close to you as the chief allows me,” he says. “He has a difficult task. On one hand, he must follow the law of his tribe. On the other, because things are so strange with us, he can do whatever he wants and still say he is following the law. It all comes down to what is good for his tribe, and what his men will think. No chief can act entirely alone. This tribal council of which he speaks is not to find out what the law requires, but what the tribe wants.”
A murmur rises around us as the tribesmen realize the truth of his words.
“You speak like a chief of many years,” Hoker’iz says. “I understand now that your Chief Korr’ax must be a mighty man indeed, if he has warriors like you in his tribe. Warriors with the bravery to lecture another chief about his own intentions. Go to your caves now, and you will have drink and food brought to you both. I will not invite you to our common table for the evening meal, for there is the possibility that we may have to kill you both tomorrow.”
“That’s fair,” I state loudly, and all eyes go to me. “But while Warrior Nator’ax and I shall sleep well tonight, Chief Hoker’iz will not. Because he will think: if we murder these two guests, will there be more ships coming from the sky, filled with furious Borok warriors?”
The tribe goes very quiet. Hoker’iz’s expression hardens. “Plainly there are many questions we will have to ask tomorrow.”
I think I’ve made my point. But Nator’ax is right—we can’t let these guys make a decision in a vacuum. They have to know how we feel about this, and we can’t hold back.
A gust of wind cuts across the village, sharp and cold, and suddenly the thought of being alone in a strange cave doesn’t feel nearly as brave as I pretended a moment ago.
Prak’ox clears his throat politely. “This way, Warrior Nator’ax and Woman Riley.”
“That’s Dame Riley,” I make up on the spot. “My tribe holds me in high regard, and has given me that title.”
“Dame Riley,” Prak’ox corrects himself. “Come with me, please.”
The cave he shows me is smaller than the others, but clean, the floor piled with thick white furs.
“You will be warm here,” he says.
“I appreciate hospitality,” I reply carefully, “though it is not more than a woman expects from an honorable tribe.”
He studies me for a moment. “You truly came from the sky?”
“Did you not see the ship? Where do you think it came from? You think it grew from ice, like a tree?”
“That would be even stranger,” he admits. “Trees don’t grow from ice.”
Nator’ax looks around the cave with a skeptical eye. “Will she be safe here? No tribesman will sneak in and harass her?”
“Do you doubt the word of our chief?” Prak’ox asks. “It is unwise.”
“I will be nearby,” Nator’ax tells me. “Shout if you need me.”
I sit down on the furs and listen to their footsteps crunch away across the ice. The cave grows quiet.
I pull the thickest fur over my shoulders and lie back against the pile. The warmth is immediate, heavy, and comforting. The Gar tribe clearly knows how to survive this climate.
Still, something feels missing. I stare at the ceiling of the cave. The answer is obvious. Nator’ax.
