Chapter 6

- Bronwen -

I take his hand and drag him to his feet. The drumbeat is really good and I've had more frit than I'd planned, but so have the other girls.

Piper sees what I'm doing. Her eyes light up when she gets it, and she pulls Brak away from the table.

"Do what I do," I suggest as I start to move with the rhythm. It's not like I'm going to teach a caveman alien to dance, because I'd need to learn it myself first. But it doesn't look like they have this in their culture. And right now, I think they should. The warm night air vibrates with deep, booming sounds, a primal pulse that seems to burrow into my bones and make all of me want to move.

Noker just stands still and looks as I do a little spin and sway to the drumbeat. From the corner of my eyes I sense everyone staring at me with a mix of confusion and amusement, but I bite down the embarrassment and keep going. It's not like I could resist it — this rhythm is perfect, even to my not-very-musically-gifted self.

Piper stands in front of me as we enjoy the beat, grinning and wordlessly urging each other on.

I lift my arms above my head, letting my fingers curl and uncurl in time with the beat. My hips are swaying, a slow and deliberate movement that feels perfectly right here and now.

Laughter ripples through the cavemen crowd; not mocking, just curious and surprised.

The young drummers see what we're doing, and start beating louder and faster. I'm not surprised that they catch on quicker than their older tribesmen.

Suddenly I'm hundreds or thousands of years back in time, when there were Stone Age tribes all over Earth, dancing around the campfire to the sound of the beat. It's totally primitive, but it also makes me feel alive in a way I can't remember having felt on Earth. The fires crackle and the orange light flickers over us. Here, under the vast expanse of the star-studded sky, I feel completely free as the binding self-consciousness evaporates.

Noker finally starts to move, slowly mirroring my moves, his arms raised above his head. He's a beat or two behind, but he's got the rhythm mostly right. There's a frown of deep concentration on his face. He's really trying.

Wanting to add something else that everyone can do, I start to clap right between the drumbeats. Piper takes it up immediately, and so does Brak. He's also moving a bit now, his dactyl talons making deep gouges in the dirt.

Noker gets the idea and starts clapping, too. And so do Astrid and Alba, as well as the boys who have been watching the party from the shadows.

The clapping spreads, and soon the whole tribe is clapping their hands. Some men get up and try some moves, while others laugh. There's a joy in the air that seems to transcend language and culture.

I take Noker's hand and twirl around under it, like a couple of show dancers. Piper does the same with Brak, and we have a lot of fun with it. Some of the boys start to incorporate stomping moves, reminding me of the Haka dance I've seen in some videos about the Maori years ago.

The younger ones dance with jumps and twirls and reckless acrobatics, while the adult cavemen mostly stay at the table and clap their hands. But some of them have had enough frit to get up and move.

Alba and Astrid stay seated, which is probably wise, but I'm happy to see a bright smile on Astrid's face. Maybe a party like this is just what she needed.

The drums speed up and we invent new moves, including the feet-stomping thing. It's not elegant or fancy, but it's a dance born from a common experience. And from some old Zumba classes that I'm trying to channel right now.

Soon we're in the middle of a throng of huge cavemen, stomping and clapping and writhing. The drumbeat is deafening.

"I think we uncovered something in them!" Piper yells the next time she comes near. "They love it!"

"Yeah!" I reply, gloriously happy and feeling absolutely free. "They were halfway there with the drums!" This whole experience is very different from the daily struggle for survival, and I think the cavemen feel it, too.

Noker's awkwardness has melted away, and he makes up a couple of little moves of his own. His head fan has taken on a golden tinge, which may be from the fire light, but which I choose to think is a sign of happiness. He and Brak sometimes laugh together, an unrestrained, booming sound that resonates from the totem wall. I don't know if he's ever been able to express himself like this — according to Piper, the Foundlings are always very quiet to not be discovered by tribes or outcasts.

Our eyes meet, his yellow intensity now made warm by the firelight and the little smile on his face. An arrow of warmth shoots down through my stomach. I wonder what his touch would feel like on other parts of me.

Damn, I only met him today,my common sense says. It's too soon to start thinking about that.

"So, what is the time limit for those things?" I mutter to myself. "How many days until I'm allowed?—"

A hand takes hold of my upper arm, and I turn, smiling because I'm sure it's Noker.

It's not. My smile dies on my lips when I see it's the same one who kept screeching about how he hasn't got a woman.

I grab his hand and try to pry the fingers off my arm, but he's strong and keeps his grip on me.

There's a nasty smile on his face, his eyes swimming with drunkenness. "No need to settle for a broken Foundling, woman. In the Borok village, of course you prefer a real Borok man. You don't want to be impolite, do you?"

"Take hand off me," I hiss, struggling to get away. "I will tell your chief!"

He doesn't budge, just gives me an evil grin. "The chief will throw you into the jungle. He doesn't like Foundlings in our village."

"Chief Korr'ax is my friend," I seethe. "You the one cast out!"

"You—" the tribesman begins, then stops. There's a big hand on his throat, and a fan-like feature is visible behind him, dark red.

It's Noker, whispering something in the tribesman's ear. The grip on my arm is suddenly gone. I pull back, and Piper gently takes hold of my other hand. "Let's stay back."

The unpleasant tribesman is trying to move, but Noker has a good grip on him. I can't hear what's being said over the drums, but the man spins around and reaches for his sword. He doesn't get that far before his wrist is caught in another hand. Noker must be much stronger than the Borok man, because he manages to pull him away. Brak gets between them and me, blocking my view.

The drums falter and go silent. The tribesmen look around, then focus on the scuffle next to me. Three burly Borok men march over, grab their drunk tribesman, and drag him away with them.

Noker is in front of me again, a tight smile on his face. "Some of these men drink too much. Thankfully his tribesmen came to his aid before he hurt himself. Pay him no heed."

His words send a chill down my back. I don't have any doubts about who would have been doing the hurting. Noker's head fan is still deep red, which I have learned to associate with him being angry.

Two boys start clapping again in the confused silence, and it's gradually taken up by many tribesmen.

The drums start playing, and the crowd gets back to dancing in their newfound way.

But the episode broke the magic for me.

I pull Noker's head down to me. "Let's go," I say into his ear.

Taking my hand again, he walks ahead through the crowd, parting it. We emerge from the primal, pulsating crowd of cavemen on the side where there's no torches and no fires, so after ten more paces and turning a corner, we're away from the party.

"What a bad man," I exclaim as I roll up my sleeve to examine my upper arm. "He touch me."

"Many of the Borok men want to touch the women," Noker rumbles. "Only Unin'iz was drunk enough to do it. But being drunk in the evening means being unwell in the morning. I wonder how he will handle the game of penk."

"What is penk?"

He shrugs his massive shoulders, making his loincloth ride up. "I don't know. We shall see tomorrow."

"You like the… movements?" I don't know the word for 'dance', so I show the moves instead.

"The movements? We call it dancing. The boys in the clan sometimes do it. Yes, I like this. Look at them!" He nods towards the still pulsating crowd, wonder in his eyes. "They're making enough noise to attract a pack of kronk! And yet nobody is hushing them, nobody is scared of being attacked. They know they're safe, despite the noise and the light and the smell of fried meat. And they're right! Not even an irox is coming to snatch a boy from the shadows. In the clan, a night like this would never happen. This is a powerful tribe, Bronwen!"

The light flickers over his body, highlighting the contours of his massive frame and the thick muscles rippling beneath the skin. His strong features are etched with shadow, his eyes reflecting the warm flames. In this light, his blue stripes make it look like he's made of fine marble. He has no idea that he's the most powerful person here.

I quickly look around. There's nobody nearby.

I get up on tiptoe, pull his head down to me, and place a kiss right on his mouth. Again, I swear he has something electrical going on with his skin. There's definitely a blue spark, but no sting, just tingles that move downward through me.

I reach up to carefully touch his head fan. "Is pain?"