Page 12 of Caveman Alien’s Horn (Caveman Aliens #26)

12

- Sprisk -

I go to get fresh water, but the experience was so intense that I have trouble walking straight. The bulge in my loincloth is ridiculously big, and my long shadow in the afternoon sun looks like a different kind of creature.

I grin up at the sky. I just Worshipped a woman! And it was every bit as wonderful as I thought. Better, even. Because those sounds Cora made, and the way she moved, and the way she tasted, was not something I expected. Old Melr’ax did not prepare us for that in his lecture. But of course that lecture was intended to make us ready in case we met The Woman from the legends, which of course Cora is not. So it’s perfectly fair that she reacts differently than The Woman might.

When I get to the creek, I realize I forgot to bring a pot to carry it in. I should try to shake this delirious joy out of my mind before I cause some terrible accident.

“Forgot the pot,” I admit to Cora when I return to the campfire. “When I was alone here, I usually drank straight from the creek.”

“Lucky creek,” Cora drawls, her eyes narrow, shiny slits as she leans back on the dry ground.

I think I understand what she means, and it makes me even happier. I stick my tongue out and slowly lick my lips. Cora stares with hooded eyes and half open mouth.

I return with the full pot and fill Cora’s mug. “There. Water is the most important thing in the jungle. Or fruit juice.”

She takes the mug and drains it in one go. “Water is good.”

I refill her mug and drink some myself. “Most running water is good to drink. The faster it runs, the better.”

“This creek not run fast,” Cora points out, wiping her lips after drinking the second mug, too. “But water very good.”

I see no reason to be shy, so I let my eyes wander all over her bare body. It’s a wondrous thing, barely believable. And if I can keep Cora here, perhaps it will be the way things are. Perhaps she will walk around like this sometimes! Because this clearing is safe.

The thought makes my rod harden even more.

But, another thought hits me like a thrown pot of cold water; if she knew the things I’ve done, she might not want anything to do with me. Especially that one thing about her friends.

At some point I may have to tell her that it was me. But not yet. I have to think of a good explanation first. And I want to enjoy her company for as long as it lasts. Perhaps she will never find out.

I find some dried fruits in the tree and bring them out to Cora. “We will look for fruits later, but these are also good to eat. Not so juicy, but sweet.”

“We also look for wood,” she says as she munches on them. “For the loom.”

“How big should it be?”

She gets up and walks a little bit away, giving me the most mesmerizing view of her bare behind. She bends and puts a rock in a random spot. “From here…” She walks several paces closer. “...to here. Also from here… to here.” She puts a third rock and then a fourth on the ground, marking a square shape. “This big.”

“Was the one in your tree that big?” I ask, coming over to get an impression of the size. And to be closer to a naked Cora.

“Was small only,” she tells me. “This is bigger. Bigger is better.”

“As I recall from the one I broke, you will need many strings and ropes. Tomorrow we will start cutting them from the creek.”

“If not enough roots from creek, many roots right under here.” She touches the ground with her small toes. “Can easy get. If need longer strings.”

“It will take many days,” I state as we walk back to the campfire. “Getting the materials we need is just the first step. But luckily we now have a steel blade, and that will make it easier.”

“Very easier,” Cora agrees as she puts her clothes back on.

I just watch, enjoying the way the red sunlight turns her skin and hair a warm color.

“I’ll make some dinner,” I tell her and stoke the fire. “We still have a lot of fresh meat.”

“Good,” she chirps. “I can help?”

I think about it. “We’re running low on firewood.”

“I get,” she says easily and starts sauntering away.

“Don’t leave the clearing,” I instruct. “There’s enough dry wood here to last us many moons.”

I start slicing more meat and threading the pieces on skewers again. Cora seemed to like them, and I want her to be comfortable. I usually don’t make them for myself, because the different pieces need different lengths of time over the fire. But now, I want to take care with it.

I watch as Cora collects firewood. Her movements are so different from any I’ve seen before, so graceful and soft. It’s still hard to believe that she’s even here.

“Here is some,” she says as she dumps a small amount of wood on the pile. “I get more.”

It doesn’t take long to cook the skewers, but the sun has set when we sit down to eat.

“Was a nice day,” Cora says as she chews. “Only some outcasts.”

“Only some,” I agree, hiding a smile.

Even a single outcast would be really bad news. But there’s no reason to scare her. I would have preferred to kill those two, the way they would do to any Foundling without a second thought. Still, I think Cora may be right. They might seek out easier prey from now on.

We sit and talk while we eat, telling each other about our lives in the jungle. Cora tells me about her life on Earth, but it all sounds so strange and incredible that I half suspect it’s something she dreamt. It doesn’t matter. I’m just happy she’s here.

After dinner we sit and look into the fire while the stars look down on us and the mushrooms shine pale blue all around the perimeter.

Cora gives a little shiver, and I move closer to her to put my arm around her thin shoulders. “Cold?”

“Perhaps little,” she says. “Also thinking of… something.”

“What?”

She reaches over and draws a quick line on my forearm. Again it leaves a small, rainbow-colored trail that fades fast. “About before.”

“Ah. Before was nice,” I agree.

She looks over her shoulder, as if she heard something. “Perhaps can go in tree?”

“I was going to say that,” I tell her and get to my feet. “It’s nicer in there now.” I make sure that the fire is safe and that it will leave embers in the ashes tomorrow morning. “Wait here.”

I walk a quick round of the whole clearing, staring into the jungle and listening for dangers. There are many, but they’re far away and even if they were close, I wouldn’t worry. All the Smalls and Bigs and Tinies fear the mushrooms, it seems. That just makes this spot in the jungle extra safe.

“They all make light,” Cora says when I return and she gets up, too. “All round.” She points to the circle of mushrooms around us. “Very small light.”

“Weak light, but strange. I would like to know why the Bigs dislike this place so much. Except your friend. He didn’t seem to mind.”

“Eric?” Cora asks as she enters the hollow tree. “He too young to know if danger.”

“He shouldn’t leave his pack, then. The older ones will tell him when to run and when to stay.”

We climb up the nets inside the tree. At one point, when I made this, I imagined this space full of the boys from the Foundling clan, climbing and jumping and hanging from the nets, being noisy and happy. Now, all I can see is Cora and me living here forever.

I light the lamps again and close the door at the bottom more than usual, so that the draft from below won’t be so strong that it extinguishes them right away.

Cora makes herself comfortable in the same net as before, lying back and sighing comfortably. “This so nice. Come close.”

I rearrange a net so it hangs in a more interesting way, then climb into it and sit back so I can easily reach Cora’s legs and even hips. “That’s better.” I casually reach out and stroke her ankle. “Many small scars.”

“The jungle has pointy parts,” she says. “All over jungle is sharp.”

“The jungle is known for its pointy parts,” I agree as I stroke up along one smooth, soft calf. “But now it also has smooth parts.”

She sits up and leans forwards. “There is pointy part I want know.”

“Oh?” I have no idea what she means.

“May touch hair?” she reaches out one small hand.

Ah. That part. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. And if she now decides to escape again, horrified at what I am, then at least I got to Worship her.

“You may.” I come closer and lower my head.

She strokes along the sides of my head, buries her hand in my hair, and then moves it to the top.

There’s a small gasp. “Oh! There is something!”

“There should be. But it’s more than it seems like.”

“It comes out?” she asks, cool hand still there.

“Let’s see,” I tell her and extend my horn.