Page 1 of Caveman Alien's Heat
1
- Nator’ax-
“There they are,” a boy whispers.
I turn despite myself.
I shouldn’t. My duty is to watch the men, not the women. Chief Korr’ax put me here for a reason. But every man in the village is looking, and for a moment I am no better than the rest of them.
The two new women descend the carved steps of the Red Mountain, and something changes in the air as they do.
At first glance, they look much the same as the other women from the alien planet Earth: small, round, and soft. And while they look different from us, they also have something about them that makes it impossible to look away.
I know their names, of course. Morgan and Riley. Strange, alien names that are hard to pronounce. One step at a time, they descend the stairs along with Cora, who is married to Sprisk the Foundling, and Bryar, who is married to Korr’ax, our chief.
I turn and check on the crowd. I can’t allow myself to be distracted. I’m guarding the steps leading up to the Red Mountain, where all the women live. Chief Korr’ax trusts me to keep these women safe. And I will. He accepted me as a member of the Borok tribe, despite me coming from another tribe that I found weak and pitiful.
I turn to face Sprisk, who’s accompanying the women. “Where will they be going?”
“I will give them a tour of the village,” Sprisk says, scanning the tribesmen behind me. “And I would like for them to feel that this is a safe place, where none may stare or approach without invitation.”
“The staring part may be difficult,” I tell him. “But the other thing I can help with.”
He gives me a tight smile. “I have no doubt, warrior.”
He leads the four women down to the ground, and I take a few steps towards the crowd of tribesmen, letting my eyes do the talking. None of them try to get closer to the women. Some of them return to their various activities, and I take note of those who have the greatest trouble tearing their gaze away from the females.
I follow the group at a distance, allowing only the curious boys to pass. They are just harmlessly curious and not a danger.
Tribesman Fres’ox falls into step with me, the irox claws in his necklace rattling. “Hoping one of them will be yours, Nator’ax?”
“Chief Korr’ax asked me to help guard the women,” I growl. “That’s all I’m doing. The obvious fact that they need guarding says more about our tribe than I like.”
“Oh, but it’s a nice duty, isn’t it? You may follow them like this, watching them from close up. You may even climb the stairs and check on them from time to time. Whereas most of us are pushed to the back, pushed aside. We, who have lived in this tribe our whole lives. While you, who came in from the jungle tribeless, may use force to keep us away. One gets the feeling the chief would push us out of the village entirely, if only nobody bothers these precious things.”
“Don’t speak more about the chief,” I warn him. “You know he sets the tribe above all else.”
“Does he? Some would say he sets alien women, Foundlings, and other tribes above the Borok tribe. Even now I’m not allowed to walk anywhere I want in the village. Before the women, any man might climb the stairs to the plateau and enjoy the view from up there. Men could take a cave on the Mountain to live in. We could walk anywhere at any time. Now, the Mountain is owned by others. They have even set their mark on it.” He glares at the foot of the rock, to the very center of the tribe, where Bryar painted a great picture of Piper on the tribe’s holy white wall.
“Times change,” I tell him. “And we must change with the times. The Borok tribe is admired like never before. We have better food than ever, we’re never attacked by Bigs or other tribes, we don’t need to hunt as much as before. When was the last time one of our men died hunting? Before, there were at least two every year. That has changed. But you don’t think of that, only pointing to changes that you think are bad.”
“It’s not only me saying this,” Fres’ox says. “It’s everyone. Our tribe has two types of men, Nator’ax. There are the married men, who can do whatever they want and have soft women to share their cave. And then there’s the rest of us, who sleep alone. You’re in that group, too.”
“My group is the Borok tribe,” I tell him tightly. “And that should be yours, too.”
“All I know is that we never had the Darkness in the tribe before, no dragons. And certainly never any of those Plood ships. They say there’s a Plood inside it, a live one. And they say that all the white bulbs that suddenly grow all over the jungle are Plood that will soon come alive. Do you like that change?” He turns and saunters off.
“Silly nonsense,” I snort as the group of women inspect one of the forges. They speak quickly with their bright voices.
My gaze moves over them, as every man’s does.
There’s a dark-haired one. But I don’t know which one she is, Morgan or Riley. She gestures toward the glowing iron with excitement, her hands fluttering as if the words cannot leave her mouth fast enough.
But the other one catches my eye more.
She doesn’t speak as much. Instead, she watches and sometimes smiles when an eager boy wants to explain something. Her pale eyes move across the village like a hunter studying unfamiliar ground. She takes in everything: the forge, the men, the huts, the jungle beyond the palisade. Nothing escapes her.
Then her gaze lifts.
