Chapter 1

- Bronwen -

"From the sewers to the penthouse," I mutter to myself.

Below me, the jungle stretches away in every direction. Millions of treetops shine in red and green in the intense light from the alien sun, with moving, dark patches where the light is obscured by clouds. It all vanishes into a gray haze, except where I spot a thin, blue line that's the ocean.

"We didn't live in sewers," Alba says from behind me. She's sitting cross-legged on the ground, busy sewing patches of dinosaur skin onto her faded red sweatpants, using a sharpened dinosaur claw as an awl. "For underground tunnels, I thought they were pretty nice. We had fireplaces and everything. There were several rooms, emergency exits, ceilings made from tropical wood, work spaces, crawl spaces, a special nook where we could weep bitterly in the dark… we had everything we needed."

I half turn to give her a little smile. "Sure. But we didn't have a view like this."

"Except in our dreams," she agrees. "And I must admit that even they were nothing like that. So yeah, this is totally a penthouse. I don't object to that assessment."

It's the plateau on top of the red Mount that's the most important part of the village where the Borok tribe lives. It's a great, natural terrace outside the cave where Chief Korr'ax and Bryar live. They generously let us use the plateau anytime we want, and we ‘tunnel girls' spend most of our time up here. Below in the actual village, we're always being stared at by the caveman aliens that live on this planet. We don't blame them — they have no women of their own, and we did come to their village unexpectedly. Still, their gazes can be a little too invasive. They're an intense species, the cavemen, towering over us with their striped torsos and exotic features.

I adjust my ancient sweatshirt. "I'm not complaining, Alba. We did incredibly well just staying alive for those years. And we got super lucky that Astrid had that shovel to dig tunnels with."

Alba glances over at Astrid, who's sitting inside Bryar's cave and staring at nothing in particular. "Oh, we really lucked out being abducted along with Astrid. I mean, not that we were lucky to be abducted. But that she was taken, too. Not that I'm happy she was abducted! But if she were to be abducted anyway, then we were lucky that we… no, that she… well, you know what I mean."

"She saved our asses a good few times," I agree softly. "I just wish that now, we could do something for her."

We're both worried about Astrid. When we were down in the tunnels, hiding from the dinosaurs and the cavemen and the jungle at large, she was our pillar of strength. She was the first of us to go hunting wildlife for food, she was the one who would think of ways to deal with the endless problems we had, she would never hide away in a private tunnel to cry helplessly about her fate the way the rest of us did, and she would always be in front when we went to steal food and other things from the Foundling clan. She was our leader, always stepping up. But now, she's sunk into some kind of depression, and we don't know how to help her. We think that now we're here with the Borok tribe, in relative safety, she finally has time to think about things and to blame herself for Cora going missing.

"We keep trying," Alba reminds me, lowering her voice. "Nothing we say seems to make a difference. We may have to let her work through it in her own way."

"I would feel better if she would eat more. Maybe if we got some more Earth-like food, she'd get more of an appetite."

Alba bites the thick thread off with her teeth. "It's hard to make food taste like Earth stuff with all alien ingredients."

"We need something that's simple, but good," I ponder. "Something that won't taste that different here and on Earth."

She bends her neck to concentrate on her work. "Is this about your bakery idea? Because I'm all for it. It's just that these guys don't even have flour or grains of any kind. Not to mention eggs or sugar or baking soda or just about anything you'd need to bake a cake or a loaf."

I look out at the giant jungle, stretching into the mist. "Maybe they just haven't looked. A jungle this big, with this many plants and bushes, must have some things we can use. I remember Piper saying that she and Bryar were trying to grow something that looked like grains on that beach of theirs."

"It's a project, anyway," Alba agrees. "Bryar keeps discreetly urging us to do something useful for the tribe. Getting a bakery up and running would probably qualify."

"The tribe has yeast," I think out loud. "Because they can make wine. And if we take sweet fruits and boil them, we should be able to get some kind of sweetener. It won't be cane sugar, but it will be sweet."

Alba pushes dark hair behind her ear, her Dora the Explorer-like bob shining in the sun. "Sounds like you're halfway there."

"Flour will be hard to get," I admit. "But it's really just starch, and somewhere in this jungle there must be some edible roots that look like potatoes."

Alba turns her sweatpants over. She grabs a leather patch and places it in various positions over a hole, checking what looks better. "And milk?"

"There are mammals here, right? Maybe? I've never seen a cow in the jungle, but who knows. We don't need butter, because we have fats. Eggs won't be a problem. All the dinosaurs lay them, I'm sure."

"You're two thirds to a bakery," Alba muses. "I can't wait to come up to your counter and order a half dozen cupcakes and maybe a Danish. Will you carry brownies?"

"Oh sure," I join her fantasy. "House specialty. A molten chocolate dream, super sticky and always served warm, straight from the oven. Baked to gooey perfection, with just a hint of toasted nuts on the crunchy top. So creamy you have to eat them with a spoon, like a chocolate fondant. Which is another house specialty. Hey, do you think the tribe will give us an oven?"

"Tell them about the brownies and they'll build one for you on the spot," Alba chuckles. "You sure got me salivating."

"Writing descriptions on the menu was part of my job at Priscilla's shop." I go quiet as my mind is suddenly back there, on Earth, in the tiny old baking shop in the college town, smelling the newly baked buns, the vanilla and the tea leaves, hearing the soft gossiping of the regulars and the gurgle of the coffee machine… it all feels like the memories of someone else. It was an eternity ago and light years away. Probably only six years, but eternities go by fast on planet Xren.

I break out of the reverie. Those thoughts only lead to sadness. "I guess it depends on which tribe they want us to live in, this or the Tretter tribe. I think Bryar wants us with them."

"The Tretter? Yeah, that's my impression, too. But we don't have to decide yet. You know she and Piper say we need some time to recover in safety. And apparently the Tretter don't have anything as safe as this penthouse thing."

I untie my ponytail and run my fingers through my hair, loosening it up. "They can't expect us to choose anything other than this place. Seriously. Unless they ban us from the penthouse."

"Piper has a point," Alba says, poking a hole in the leather patch. "You know she went back to the beach so she wouldn't be totally dependent on Korr'ax's whims. Or Bryar's, I guess. She only came back when she'd made it on her own and she'd made a life elsewhere. But the three of us don't really have a place to go. Except for the tunnels, and I'm not going back there. We have to do as they want."

"Bryar seems nice enough," I counter, looking out over the jungle. After years in dark tunnels, I could do that all day, just drinking in the light and the air and the freedom. "She'll make sure we're fine. But yeah, we won't always be the new and cool kids. We're only human. At some point we're going to want different things."

I spot movement outside the walls, close to the gates. It looks like two cavemen, and one of them is wearing a hat of some kind.

"Hey, girls," comes a voice from the side of the plateau.

"Hi, Piper," we greet her as one when we see the copper shine of her hair.

Piper climbs the last steps of the wooden stairs to the plateau and takes a deep breath. "I swear those stairs get longer each time I climb them. Someone's carving extra steps in the dark of night, I'm sure. Everything cool?" She peers into the cave at Astrid.

"We're good," I quickly assure her, feeling protective and not wanting everyone to know about my friend's issues. "Just processing that we're safe and sound. And that we're not starving to death. Makes for a refreshing change."

Piper grins. "I know exactly what you mean. After years on that beach, when Bryar and I came here, even the caveman food tasted incredible. We must have eaten our own weight in grilled meat and fresh fruit in a couple of days."

"We're still busy doing that," Alba says. "But we're also thinking ahead. Bronwen will start a bakery one of these days, once she finds flour."

"Oooh! Bryar and I were thinking about something like that," Piper says. "We found some grass that we thought might work as wheat or rye. It's probably still growing on that beach."

I raise my eyebrows. "Any chance we could go and look?"

Piper gazes out towards the ocean. "The tribes don't really go to that beach. It's taboo to them, probably because the wildlife in the ocean tends to seek it out for mating and such. That attracts dinosaurs. Bryar and I were almost killed there several times. But it's nowhere near as dangerous as the tribes think. Most of the time, it's calm and safe. What I'm saying is that if you go, don't tell the tribesmen. They may try to stop you."

"Well, it's not something I'm planning for right now," I tell her and stretch. "Do you know those guys?" I point down to the gate, where the two cavemen have been let in.

Piper looks, and then her face breaks out in an excited smile. "I can't see their faces, but I am expecting company. Come with me! There's someone I want you to meet."

I have nothing better to do, so I shrug and come with her down the stairs.