Page 34 of Caveman Alien's Heat
“It means they are adaptable,” I ponder. “That makes them more dangerous.”
She glances at me. “Or more able to change their old ways.”
“Or that,” I agree. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
By midday, the village is fully alive. Hunters return with small catches. Others prepare gear. The air fills with voices, movement, and the steady rhythm of men who survive because they don’t waste time.
We are given more food near the central fire. Riley sits beside me, her leg pressed against mine under the furs she keeps wrapped around herself. She eats, but her attention drifts, her gaze moving again and again toward the horizon.
“Are you thinking about the saucer?” I ask.
“It must be very cold inside it now.”
“But we’re not there, and while the weather remains this cold, it won’t fall into the crack. Deeper, I mean.”
“I know.” She exhales. “I just don’t like unknown things. Not here.”
“Unknown things can be used,” I reply. “Things that are unknown to the Gar tribe, I mean.”
She looks at me. “That’s your plan?”
“It is part of it. Riley, when you hear me say it, pretend to react with shock that I’m revealing that. You will know it when you hear it.”
She studies me for a moment, then nods slowly. “I think I can guess. I won’t ask more. Not here.”
The sun begins its slow descent, though it never rises high in this land. Shadows stretch across the ice, and the air grows colder again.
As the light fades, the village shifts. Conversations go quiet. Eyes turn more often toward us. The time approaches.
Riley’s hand finds mine and squeezes it. “You ready?” she asks.
“I will speak for us,” I say. “When asked a question, answer with truth. Say your speech isn’t good enough for a complicated argument.”
She squeezes my hand again and looks up at me with darkness in her eyes. “If they say you have to die, kill me first. I don’t want them getting me. Only you do. Promise.”
Her words shock me to my core, and for a moment I’m speechless. I clear my throat. “Riley, it may not be?—”
“Promise.” Her voice has steel in it. And I respect steel.
I nod once. “I promise.”
She squeezes harder. “Say it as an oath, like you did for Korr’ax.”
I take a deep breath and look up at the green sky. Damn the Ancestors for putting me in this position!
Then I draw my sword. “I, Nator’ax of the Borok tribe, hereby swear to my Ancestors, my tribe, and my chief that I will kill Riley first if the Gar tribe judges that I must die. May my own tribesmen kill me if I betray this oath, and may my Ancestors turn their backs on me and damn me forever.” I draw the edge ofmy blade along my forearm, drawing a thin line of dark red. “So sealed with my blood.”
Riley gasps. “You didn’t need to?—”
“Like I did for Korr’ax,” I tell her with a smirk. “You were very specific.”
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want you to be hurt.”
I lean in and kiss her hair. “The oath should be made the right way. Now it’s real.”
- - -
The council consists of seven men, including Chief Hoker’iz and the shaman, who is introduced to us as Crelt’ax. He is missing an arm, which surprises me. Shamans don’t usually risk the hunt, preferring to stay in the village and pray, or serve the tribe in other ways. His remaining hand rests lightly on a carved staff, and his gaze lingers on me longer than the others, as if he sees more than he should.
