Otis doesn’t seem to mind. He sometimes stands still and just listens, ears twitching, and sometimes he will change direction.When he does, I follow him. And so far, we haven’t been attacked.
“This is going to be a challenge,” I mutter to myself as I climb over a cluster of vines, only to find myself facing a widely flared root that’s at least ten feet wide. I can’t climb over it, so I have to make my way back over the vines. “But maybe it gets easier.”
Past that hindrance, I spot Otis ahead of me. His tail is pointing behind him, straight at me, in a way that I’ve learned to recognize—he’s sensing someone. His huge eyes are staring ahead, double snout twitching.
I stop, too, and shift my grip on my spear. I think I hear voices over the usual hiss and roar of the jungle.
I duck and quickly hide behind a dense bush with so many thorns that I doubt anyone will walk close to it.
The voices come closer. Caveman voices, speaking softly. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but it sounds like there are many of them.
Shit.They could be a band of outcasts. The best I can hope for is a clan of Foundlings, although those can also be dangerous.
The first caveman comes into view. Blue stripes, just like Kenz’ox’s. But there are more tribes with blue stripes, so that doesn’t have to mean anything.
I stay totally still, aware that the human eye is attracted by movement. These guys aren’t human, exactly, but they’re close enough.
More men come out of the jungle, passing me about fifty feet away. I only see small glimpses of them. They’re too many to be a hunting party, and if they were hunting, they should be keepingquiet. But these are chattering away while they walk. Not loudly, but they’re clearly confident that no dinosaur will attack them.
One man has a tall hat, and he walks beside one with a really big headdress made from fangs, claws, and metal, forming a weird kind of crown. I guess those are the shaman and the chief. Behind them, four cavemen are carrying a big wicker basket.
That could be Kenz’ox’s tribe. In fact, it could be his whole tribe. If so, that basket may contain Dex.
And it looks like they’re going towards the ocean.
This complicates my mission. Now they may reach the beach in a day or two, and there are so many of them that they’re bound to discover the saucer. It’s not hidden. There’s also a chance they may pick up my tracks, which will lead them straight to it. Or straight to me.
More men pass, and then the whole entourage has passed me, the sound of their voices growing weaker.
What do I do? Go to the Borok tribe and hope that these guys won’t kill Kenz’ox and Aker’iz before I can get there with a group of warriors? Warriors that I might not get at all?
The crucial part here is Dex. If he’s inside the basket, then I have to find out?—
“Ah,” says a deep voice behind me. “Our hunt is successful.”
I spin around, almost falling on my butt.
Two cavemen are standing ten feet away, one of them leaning on a tree. They also have blue stripes of the same hue as Kenz’ox.
I straighten up and pull back my spear. “Greetings, warriors. Which tribe are you from?”
They saunter towards me, hands on the hilts of their swords. “Greetings, female. We are men of the Tratena tribe. Whose turf is this?” They run their gazes up and down me as they approach.
The Tratena tribe. That’s Kenz’ox’s tribe. Dex may be really close. And I have to get to talk to him somehow. What was it that Cora said I could do, in a pinch?
“Turf?” I ask as I draw myself up and lift my chin. “What do I care aboutturf?I am the Woman. Take me to your chief and your shaman.”
They stop and look at each other. “The Woman?”
“Yes. Have you not heard of me? Do you not know the Prophecy? Your tribe is nearby. Take me there.” As I remember what Cora told us about the caveman prophecy, it’s about one man finding the Woman and then worshipping her, then mating with her and making her the Mother of Xren. I really don’t want these guys to get ideas like that, so I have to stay in charge and keep them off balance.
They stare unashamedly. They’re not quite as big and muscular as Kenz’ox, but they’re still much larger than any man on Earth. “The Woman? You are her?”
“Have I not said it twice?” I ask with impatience. “Talk less and do more, warrior. Your chief and shaman are that way. Or must I go alone?” The days with Kenz’ox have made my cavemannish much better, but I make a mental note to say less and be more mysterious. Maybe I should express myself more vaguely.
Finally, one of the two walks past me towards the way the tribe went. “Come.”
I follow him, with the other behind me.
