Chapter 27

- Bronwen -

When we start walking towards the Borok village, the jungle is its usual, noisy self. Sprisk and Trat are great escorts, choosing the safest and quickest path, doubling back when they suspect a danger ahead.

I'm glad Noker didn't insist on coming with me himself. He and I need some time apart to process this, and if my feelings for him are what I think they are, then a day or so away from him should only make them stronger.

After about two hours, we meet Brak and Piper coming fast the other way.

"We saw the smoke," Piper explains after we hug. "In the spot where the new camp is going be moved to. We were confused because it shouldn't have been moved yet."

I fill her in, while Sprisk and Trat put Brak in the picture.

We decide that Piper should go back to the Borok with me, while Brak continues to his clan. He's shocked and clearly racked with guilt about not being in the camp when the attack happened, and after he kisses Piper, he runs to get to his clansbrothers as quickly as possible.

"The clan is important to these guys," I comment as we walk on. "But that's the way it has to be."

"The clan is even more important to them than the tribe is to regular cavemen," Piper says. "All the trouble they have to get through on a daily basis just forces them to work together, with no room for any bullshit. I don't mind saying that I prefer the Foundlings to the tribesmen."

"I know how you feel," I admit. "There's something special about them. So, Noker showed me a gift that he wanted to keep secret. One of the results of being half dinosaur."

She raises her eyebrows. "Oh? What was it?"

"He can kill with his bare hands. I think it's electricity. It sure looks like it. That's how he took down that dactyl — he hugged it and paralyzed it for a moment."

"Sounds useful, actually. As long as he can control it. I mean, maybe I should think twice before I shake hands with him?"

I shrug. "He seems totally safe unless he's mad. It's actually really nice. Um. In moderation."

Piper gives me a lopsided smile. "I get a feeling I shouldn't ask more about that."

I grin. "Probably better if you don't."

The whole trip takes maybe five hours. Trat keeps darting away into the jungle, spear held ready.

"He's an energetic kid," Piper comments. "And I swear he runs faster with that foot than most other boys are with their ordinary ones."

"He's tough," I agree. "Right now he's doing something I asked him to. And because he's Trat, he does it so well I have to stop him soon."

We get to the village, and the doors open before we have asked for it.

We introduce Trat and Sprisk to Korr'ax, and then we climb up to the penthouse and tell Astrid, Bryar, and Alba about the events while the sun sets and we eat dinner.

They're appropriately shocked about Unin'iz. Not that anyone knew or liked him much, but everyone thought he was dead.

"What can we do about this?" Astrid calmly asks. "I think he may be right about more of the Borok men looking at us girls with less than honorable intentions. Should we isolate ourselves? Stay hidden up here? I mean, it could turn into a real problem when we're no longer new and exciting to them, and just girls they see every day."

"It just takes one guy to act on an impulse," Alba points out, "and one of us may be in serious trouble."

I yawn and stretch. "I'm sure you clever girls will figure something out. Sorry, I've had a long day and no sleep last night. Astrid, the clan asks if you would do the funeral ceremony for their member who died."

"Oh," she says, taken by surprise. "I was actually not going to do any of that shaman stuff. They have a bunch of guys here who can do it much better than me. They speak the language, too."

"They asked specifically for you," I tell her, exaggerating just a little. "I don't think they'd appreciate a random Borok man to do it. And Melr'ax is too feeble to make the journey."

"He's tougher than he looks," Astrid says. "Get him riled up about religion, and he's all fire and brimstone. But okay. This once I guess I can officiate at a funeral, if Melr'ax tells me what to say and do."

"It's different from the tribe," Piper says. "I'm not even sure what they do. But Melr'ax will know it."

"It's a one-time thing," Astrid warns. "It doesn't mean I'll be a shaman."

I go over and hug her. "We get it. Thank you. It will mean a lot to Nok— to the clan."

The girls exchange glances.

Alba stretches her legs out. "How are things with you and that guy with the head? Noker?"

"I think they are good," I reply, trying to keep my voice neutral. "He has some thinking to do. And so do I."

"Don't think too long," Piper says. "This isn't Earth. We don't have time to think much, because today may be our last day alive. Sorry to be dark, but it's just a fact. And a guy who keeps saving your life probably deserves to be thought well about."

"I'm taking everything into consideration," I promise as I walk over to the edge of the plateau and gaze out at the jungle below. The setting sun lights it up in red and orange and every shade of yellow. Still it can't compete with Noker's head fan when he's mad. That's practically a light show.

I locate the place where I think the camp might be. It looks like any part of the jungle from up here. A part of me wishes I was there right now, swaying slowly back and forth on a platform, hearing the soft murmur of the clansbrothers, and then leaning back into a broad, strong chest...

"I'll get some sleep," I tell the girls. "The funeral is the day after tomorrow, Astrid."

"All right," she sighs. "I'll do my best to learn the procedure tomorrow."

I go down to the ground level and check that Sprisk and Trat are okay. I find them in Melr'ax's hut, where they've clearly told him what's happened. The mood in his hut is solemn.

"I'm glad Astrid will do it," Melr'ax says when I tell him. "She has the bearing and the mind for a shaman. And for practically everything else she'd want to be. I've never had my beliefs shaken as much as when she was here to talk to me, Bronwen. And my worldview has changed considerably. That's not easy for a man my age."

"She's special," I agree. "Thank you. I will go and get some sleep. Have you been given huts, Sprisk?"

"The Borok tribe has generously allowed us the use of the hut next to this one," Sprisk says. "They have provided food and great hospitality. I must admit that I didn't expect the Borok tribe to be this friendly to us Foundlings."

"It surprises us all," Melr'ax creaks. "Chief Korr'ax was a remarkable man in the first place, and his wife has only made him stronger. Good night, Bronwen. I wish I could see the clan again myself."

I climb up to my cave, the less-than-perfect rope ladder not bothering me so much after having survived another deadly danger just hours before. Getting comfortable on the skins, I wish I had company. Maybe someone who could hold me tight, make my chest tremble with the bass in his voice, touch me so a delighted shiver goes down my back, and make me feel safe and even excited about the future…

- - -

"That's very good," I enthuse. "You found so many!"

Trat glows with pride, but does his best to not smile. "They're easy to find. The leaves are so big."

There's eighteen of the drap roots on the table. Finding them was the special job I gave Trat on the walk here yesterday, and he did incredibly well. He could have found more, too, but I stopped him about halfway because he was disappearing into the jungle a little too often for my peace of mind. I wouldn't want him to get in dinosaur trouble because of me.

"Now we need fire to dry them in," I tell him. "We try different ways and see which is best."

We carry the roots up the stairs to the plateau, and up there the boy stands amazed at the view. The girls gather around him and point out where they think the camp is, the ocean, and the Tretter village. Trat seems to enjoy the attention a great deal, despite a shyness that's perfectly charming.

Together we experiment with the drap roots. We scoop them out and dry the pulp on rocks and in pots, we cut them in half and dry them over a fire, we cook them without peeling them first, and we slice them up and dry them that way.

The sweet leaves I collected back at the flast bush had withered when I found the place I wanted them to dry. They were not sweet anymore, just brown and dead.

"None of these methods are ideal," Alba says, examining a drap root that's been burned to a crisp. "But I guess you have enough to see if it behaves like flour."

When the sun sets, I've reached the conclusion that it kind of does and mostly doesn't. Mixing the not-flour with water and adding some dried and pulverized fruit, I try to shape it into cookies and bake them on a slab of slate over a fire. The result is too dry, too hard, and too crumbly to be eaten.

"I'd need a baking oven," I conclude, trying to take a bite of one of the cookies from hell and failing. "So it can be heated from every side. At a steady temperature."

Piper nods. "I'm sure we can make one."

I put the rock-hard crumbs in a pot for disposal. "Mhm. Before we start, we should decide if we're living here or in the Tretter tribe. I don't want to start a major project before then."

She gently punches my arm. "Hey, we have time to wait. It's nice to have a project like this."

- - -

The next day I get ready to go to the camp with Astrid, Sprisk, and Trat. To my surprise, Alba and Piper and Bryar are coming, too, each carrying a big backpack. So is Sprisk and Trat, I notice.

"I want to see that camp with their fancy platforms," Alba explains. "I'm not going to be the only tunnel girl who's not been there. I wouldn't be able to follow the sophisticated conversation between the well-traveled girls. So embarrassing! Like being the only one of a bunch of snooty friends who hasn't been to Paris!"

"And I need a vacation," Bryar declares. "You said the camp has three creeks nearby! That's practically a resort. And I want to see if it's all-inclusive."

I scratch my head. "I wonder if I may have over-sold that place a little. I mean, it's fine, but… it's not the Paris Sheraton. Like, really not. Right, Piper?"

She shoulders her quiver of arrows and checks her bow. "It's really not. The camp is better than any hotel."

"No, I mean?—"

"We'll see," Alba says and takes my hand. "Let's get going. If it's not as nice as you have definitely led us to believe, we'll just claim a refund."

I let her drag me along, out of the gates. "Okay… They just had a big fire. You know that, right? You saw the smoke."

"All the good resorts have some kind of light and smoke show." Bryar sniffs. "It's expected these days."

"And they were attacked by outcasts," I add.

"Vacations in war zones is all the rage in our circles."

"And there's a funeral."

Alba raises her eyebrows. "Of course we want to do some anthropology while there! Observing local rituals and such is so important. Hey, aren't we supposed to be quiet in the jungle? Could you maybe pipe down?"

Sprisk and Trat keep us safe while we walk. I'm so used to walking in the woods now that the walk doesn't seem so bad. I'm actually really happy that the girls are coming, but I can't help but worry that they may be disappointed by the Foundling camp. And I'm not sure the clan has the resources to host these women, who are used to the VIP treatment in the Borok tribe.

But it's fine. Soon I'll see Noker again. He can deal with everything.

What do I do about him? Does he really need to choose between his clan and me, the way he thinks? Brak sure looks like he's making it work, being a clansbrother, a Borok man, and Piper's husband. Why can't Noker, who's probably even more capable?

And me? Do I really want to live like Piper? Do I want to hitch my wagon to a Foundling, a half-dinosaur who can see in the dark, jump like a frog, and kill with electric shocks? He is an absolute freak, an alien monster if ever I saw one.

Do I even want to think of making a future for myself on an alien planet?

We reach a wall of tall thorn bushes, and Sprisk has to wander around a great deal before he finds a way through them. Then we walk onto a mound of sharp rocks with tall trees all around. Only the faint whiff of burning makes me realize we're here.

I stop and lay my head back to look up.

Bryar does the same thing. "Oh my…"

The platforms are swaying calmly back and forth way up there. It's like looking up at a giant mobile.

The burned trees don't look burned anymore. The dinosaur oil has been removed, somehow, and the smell is just a little smoky. But that could be from the platforms, where thin wisps of smoke are rising from the ceramic stoves they have.

A platform whizzes down, and two big Foundlings step off it.

"About time," Brak growls as he goes to kiss Piper. "Two nights without my wife is too long."

Noker gives me a little smile. "I find the days are longer than the nights."

The other Foundlings come down, and Piper and I make introductions. The clan takes the arrival of five girls in their stride, which makes me strangely proud of them.

We're served good food, and the girls who haven't been here before try the platforms, being hoisted up to the treetops and lowered down as fast as the Foundlings can manage. There's a bit of smoke coming from the pulleys too. The Foundlings want to show off, and I totally approve.

"You cleaned up well," I say to Noker. "It must have been a hard job."

"We put new bark on the trees," he says and points to the trees that were burned. "It's loose bark and it won't keep, but at least the trees don't look too strange for any new outcast passing here."

I nod. "But nobody will pass. There's thorn bushes all around the camp now. And it looks like you're about to build a wall. Only someone who knows the secret paths can find the camp."

"We've built a few things," he says with a little smile. "And after the funeral, I will want you to look at one of them in particular."

The pyre has been built a ways away from the camp. When the sun is about to set, everyone gathers there and Astrid lights it, saying the words of a ritual that's simpler than the one the Borok tribe uses, but somehow more moving. I'm incredibly impressed by her. She's stately and solemn, and her clear voice carries perfectly, speaking words in a language that she only had a chance to start learning a few weeks ago.

There's a good amount of sniffling among the Foundlings as their clansbrother is sent to the stars, some of which are starting to appear in the sky. My own sniffles and wet cheeks are more due to seeing Astrid becoming herself again than because of the dead Foundling.

We stand and watch the pyre burn for a while before one after the other, we wander back to the camp. We're given more food and frit, and Noker secretly gives me and himself a shot of the distilled version. "It's not for drinking, as you said. Except sometimes."

I clink my mug to his. "To Crotar, the brave Foundling."

He nods, new to the Earth tradition of making a toast. "He was indeed brave. But you were just as brave. Trat has told me about how you tried to confuse Unin'iz and drag him with you, away from the boy."

I drain the drink. "He was going to kill Trat. I had to do something. I not know you were so close, or that you had the… gift."

He looks at his massive hands. "I was afraid of showing you what I can do. Melr'ax said others would hate me and the clan if they knew."

I take hold of one of his fingers and stroke it, seeing if there's a tingle. And there is, just the tiniest bit. I think he can control it perfectly well. "Maybe some tribesmen would. And it may be good to have secret weapon. I don't hate you, Noker. Not for that, not for anything."

He gives me one of his rare smiles, making his scary face light up and become boyish. "That makes me happy."

I keep hold of his finger. "The clan is doing well. The camp is safer than was."

He looks around with satisfaction. "The outcasts will probably not be back, although I didn't kill them all. But we're not finished here. We will turn it from a camp and into a village. Come, I want to show you something." He lights a torch, and I follow him into the jungle.

He stops beside a strange rock formation and points to it. "We built that yesterday. Does it look like something you might be able to use?" He raises the torch.

It takes me a second. Then my jaw drops.

It's been finely built from stones and clay. There's a flat counter-like surface at my waist-level, with room for my feet under it, there's a little chimney and a square hole for the fire. Between those there's an arched opening about the size of a serving tray.

Or a baking tray.

"Is a baking oven," I marvel, stroking along the rough, slate-like stones. "You made a baking oven!"

"It's not quite finished," he rumbles. "There will be a roof and some other things that I will ask you to decide. Because we have no idea what to do with it."

I embrace him, welling up. "You made a baking oven for me." I sniffle. "Thank you. Is perfect."

He squeezes me tight. "You told me how you wanted it. It was easy to make. And it wasn't just me, but many of the clansbrothers, too. We're all very curious about what you'll use it for. Trat thinks it's for forging some kind of marvelous alien weapon."

I laugh through tears. "He would think that. And maybe he's right, too. You'll see."

"I've also made sure we're making some of the special foam for making frit. You said it might be useful for this baking oven?"

"It will be very useful, I think. Can I try it?" I wipe my tears and examine the oven again. The heat will circulate around the baking chamber, making it uniformly hot. It will need a door, but that can be made from wood. There will be room for bread and cookies and all kinds of pastries.

"The foam is not ready yet. Tomorrow, the clansbrothers say. We also have some other things you talked about. But we think daylight is better for that. Bronwen…"

I look up at him. "Yes, Noker?"

He takes a deep breath. "I love you, and I want to be married to you. Like Brak is to Piper."

Butterflies take off in my stomach. "You do?"

"Yes. I know I didn't spy on you or threaten tribers or chase you down a tunnel. You know, all those things that are required for marriage. So this must seem strange to you."

I raise my eyebrows. "Those things that Brak did with Piper? They not are required at all! Is better if not do those things."

Noker looks crestfallen "Oh? Really?"

"Yes! What you did is better. Kill irox, find me in swamp, build baking oven, and all that. Much better."

He looks away. "That night… When I said I would take you back to the village. It was not true. I don't want you in the village. I want you here. But I can also be in the village sometimes. The clansbrothers did well without me or Sprisk. Only one man was killed by the outcasts, not all of them, the way we feared. They are not as helpless as Sprisk and I thought before. They need us, but that need is not as desperate as I thought."

"They want to do things for the clan," I tell him, holding his hand. "Let them! They will surprise you with how good they are."

"Yes." His yellow eyes glow in the darkness. "So, if I want to be married to you. And I really do. Do you perhaps want to be married to me? As well?"