Page 43 of Caveman Alien's Heat
“Or it makes us lucky,” I cut in. “Lucky to have a chief like Korr’ax.”
His eyes flick back to me. “Luck is rarely so consistent.”
I force a casual shrug. “You would be amazed at how lucky the people on my planet can be.”
There’s a pause. He studies me like I’m a puzzle he intends to take apart piece by piece.
Prak’ox shifts, breaking the moment. “There will be time for questions later. Work comes first, while the sun is up.”
Crelt’ax inclines his head, conceding for now. “Of course. Survival before curiosity.”
As he steps back, I feel his gaze linger until Nator’ax steps between us, blocking his view. “Surely the tribe stands a better chance of survival if you spend your time praying, Shaman.”
Two figures dart closer once the tension breaks. They are boys, maybe ten or twelve by human standards, both staring at us with open fascination.
One of them points at Nator’ax. “Is it true you have fought in many wars with other tribes?”
The other looks at me. “Did you lure a stoka and kill it with your hands?”
I grin despite myself. “I lured the stoka, but I didn’t touch it. It fell into a crack. It was the hunting party from your tribe that killed it.”
“The stoka was even more curious about Riley than you are,” Nator’ax says dryly. “But it was stupid enough to chase her. Never chase a woman, boys. She will lead you into trouble. Why, just look at where I am now.”
The boys laugh, clearly delighted that we are not immediately terrifying.
“Are there many tribes in the jungle? Many wars? Do you fight with swords?”
“Sometimes there are wars,” Nator’ax says. “But the Borok tribe hasn’t been at war since Korr’ax became our chief. The other tribes know not to be our enemies.”
“Enough,” Prak’ox says, though not unkindly. “Let Warrior Nator’ax get on with his hunting.”
The boys scatter, but not far. I can feel their eyes on us as they pretend to be busy.
Prak’ox turns back to us. “You will both be watched.”
“We expect nothing less,” I say. “You watching us. Just don’t pretend this isn’t a prison.”
He ignores this. “If you try to leave, you will be stopped. If you prove useful, that will be remembered.”
“Will it?” I ask. “Do you speak for the tribe, or just for yourself?”
He looks away. “Ah. There is the hunting party.”
As the hunters begin to gather, Nator’ax looks at me. “You will be safe?”
I meet his gaze, holding it. “I will be watched. That is not the same thing, but it will have to do. It’s not up to me.”
His eyes flash as he looks around. “If there’s danger…”
I don’t actually think the tribe will do anything stupid with me. Not yet. “I will handle it. And if I can’t, I will make enough noise that you hear about it from halfway across the glacier.”
That earns a low sound from him that I am choosing to interpret as approval. “Be careful,” he says.
“You too.” I grab his arm and pull him down to me. “A hunting accident would be an easy way out for the tribe,” I whisper. “Or they maythinkit’s an easy way out.” I finish by giving his cheek a light kiss.
He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then turns and joins the hunters.
And just like that, I am on my own. Well, not exactly alone. More like surrounded.
