Page 30 of Caveman Alien’s Horn (Caveman Aliens #26)

30

- Cora -

“Yes,” I reply without needing to think about it. All the way here I was thinking of what to say and how to get back together with Sprisk. Because from the things Piper said when she told me about how she got together with Brak, I started to suspect that I had the trap thing all wrong. And now it turns out that I misunderstood the whole thing. It makes me feel lighter, as if a heavy weight has been lifted off me. “I’d love to marry you, Sprisk.”

I swear his skin turns into a rainbow pattern for a moment before he takes me into his arms and kisses me tenderly on the lips, face spikes stroking against my chin. “Then I am happy. And now we will leave this burned spot.”

Bakitan is keeping a respectful distance, but he’s starting to look bored.

We walk over to him, hand in hand.

“Are you all right, Bakitan?” I ask.

He gives us a shy smile. “I’m fine. I was hiding from the outcasts in the dark. They couldn’t see me after they’d been staring at the light.”

“You have a new blade, I see,” Sprisk notes. “Outcast or Borok?”

“Borok,” he says and slaps the long knife in its sheath. “I asked them, like you said. They would not give me a sword, but they say this is a good start. After I come with them on some hunts and patrols, they will teach me to use a real one. But we’ll see. I may not want a triber sword. I’ll want one that I can comfortably use with one hand.”

The fires in the trees around us slowly burn out. I don’t think major forest fires are a risk here — it’s all rainforest, and everything is ridiculously humid.

“Good man,” Sprisk beams. “My, you have grown in just a few days. But that is common for the Stripening. Look, Cora. He has green stripes!”

I reach out and touch the young man’s forearm, where there are indeed new stripes that feel like fine suede to the touch. “Wonderful. Oh, you should have see him escort me through the jungle, Sprisk! We never meet a danger because he walk around them. Never a need to use his blade.”

Sprisk slaps Bakitan’s back. “That’s no surprise. You always liked the jungle, didn’t you?”

“No,” Bakitan says sincerely. “But it’s hard to avoid.”

Sprisk chuckles. “Exactly. So you might as well enjoy it. Well, let’s go. I think the Borok tribe is the place to go now. They have a shaman.”

“Why do you need a shaman?” Bakitan asks. “Foundlings don’t use those.”

“Usually not,” I agree. “But I think a shaman makes a wedding extra special.”

Bakitan freezes. “A wedding?”

“Yes, we’re getting married, Cora and I. I just asked her if she wanted to, and she said yes.”

“I did,” I agree. “And there’s no reason to wait.”

There’s no reason to cross the creek now — we can go into the jungle anywhere we want. When we’re about to leave the completely charred clearing behind, Eric comes waddling towards me.

“Eric!” I exclaim and sign. “Oh, you are brave! You attacked that nasty outcast and got him away from me!”

He signs ‘come’, and we follow him to the charred body of an outcast who just made it out of the clearing, but too late.

I keep my distance, but Eric goes right up to the dead caveman, gets something into his hands, and comes back, showing it to me.

It’s a bundle of snares, just like the ones that trapped the three vismonks.

“It was them,” Eric signals so fast I can barely follow. “They trap!”

“He say the outcasts were the one who set the traps for gray ghosts,” I translate for the two Foundlings.

“Some tribes hunt them,” Bakitan says thoughtfully. “And outcasts will trap and eat anything. Even other men.”

“That is what they say,” Sprisk adds. “Outcasts will hunt Foundlings and eat them. I never saw them trap gray ghosts, but it’s the kind of thing they would like to do.”

As we leave the burned clearing behind, I notice that I’m so tired I’m about to keel over.

“Sprisk. Bakitan and I have walked for a long time. Maybe we can rest? Until morning?”

“Of course,” Sprisk says and looks past me. “Another friend is here.”

There’s Eric, hanging from a tree branch with two of his arms. This time, he doesn’t bother to hide, the way he did when he followed me and Bakitan all the way here. Because it must have been him.

“Are you all right?” I signal with my hands.

“Yes,” he casually signs back with one free hand. “Are you?”

“Yes. Now I am all right.”

“Big fire,” he says. “Many cavemen.”

“The fire kill caveman,” I tell him. “Now only left are Sprisk and Bakitan and you. And me. Because you kill the bad caveman.”

“He was bad,” Eric signs, fangs showing. “Very mean to Cora. I’ll go home now.” He swings himself around on the branch, drops to the ground, and bounces out of sight.

“Goodbye,” I call after him. “And thank you!”

Sprisk locates a suitable tree. He lifts me into his arms and climbs up into it, his finely rilled feet making it as easy as walking up a set of stairs.

These branches have a flat shape to them, flaring out towards the crown of the tree. At the top there’s a hollow the size of a traffic circle, round and shallow. It consists of interlocking branches, so it feels like being inside a giant, wooden sieve. Above us there’s a thin, but dense layer of huge leaves.

“I was hoping it was something like this,” Sprisk says with satisfaction as he tests the strength of the branches with his feet. They creak the way a basket would, but don’t budge. “I have often hidden and slept in trees like this. But not all of them are this useful.”

He lowers me to my feet, but I keep hold of his hand and try to not look down. I’ve lived in trees before, but not this high above the ground.

It feels safer to sit down, so I do. “That’s good.”

“Yes, we’re safe up here,” he says as he sits down beside me. “Of course you’d be safe anyway, as long as I’m with you. And now I will be with you always.”

I cling to his arm. “You better, unicorn.”

Bakitan comes up beside us, still carrying my backpack and breathing hard. “Where do you want this?”

“Anywhere, Bakitan. Thank you.”

He sets it down within reach of me and bends over, panting and holding his hand with only one finger. “This tree was hard to climb.”

“And yet you did it,” Sprisk points out. “You are doing hard things, Bakitan. You’re an adult member of the clan now.”

“Mhm,” the young man replies, clearly feeling proud but trying to stay aloof. “Are you staying here? I’ll go on. I’m not tired.”

“Then go on, clansbrother,” Sprisk says. “You’ve been walking so much back and forth, you’re practically wearing a path in the ground.”

“I’m just happy the mushrooms are gone,” Bakitan says as he starts to climb down. “They were creepy.”

“Thank you!” I call after him. “I got through the jungle safely, thanks to you.”

“All right,” he says from somewhere below us.

“See you at the wedding!” Sprisk yells. “With your new sword.”

“Fine.”

Sprisk chuckles at the adolescent replies we’re getting. He turns to me, grabs me around my waist, and lifts me onto his lap. “Finally alone.”

He kisses me, and I return it with eagerness and need. But there’s no rush now.

“What you brought?” I finally ask.

Sprisk lifts the roll of fabric that he swathed me in to protect me from the explosion. “It’s not as fine as you would have made it. But I used a good amount of the threads. I wanted to give it to you.”

We unroll it. It must be ten by six feet, a giant sheet of fine fabric with many threads in red and blue, forming a fine, symmetrical pattern. To my surprise it’s perfectly dry, even after having been under the creek. Maybe the heat dried it out.

“It’s wonderful!” I tell him with enthusiasm, holding it up in a ray of light from the rising sun. “So smooth and fine!”

He gives me a shy smile. “Well, you made the loom and showed me how to weave.”

I get up on my knees to hug him. “Is very wonderful. I will keep it always.”

“You might also use it for clothing, like you said,” Sprisk says, holding me tight. “But you decide. Wait, there’s more.”

I reluctantly let go of him. “What?”

He shows me the charred pack that he dug out of the black ground. It looks most of all like a giant piece of charcoal. In that heat, it must have burned all the way through.

“Let’s see how this looks.” Big, black flakes of ash drift to the sieve-like floor as he unwraps it. “The outer layers are burned…. Oh, but this is better!”

The second layers of roots are only an uneven beige from the heat. Sprisk peels the soft outer skin off, and inside, thousands of fine threads shine in white, as pristine as if they had been cut yesterday.

“Oh, look!” I exclaim. “They didn’t burn!” I reach over and help unwrap the roots and discard the ashes. What’s left is a bundle of mushroom roots as thick as Sprisk’s thigh. There must be fifty of them or more.

“That should be enough threads for much more fabric,” he says. “It was a hot fire, but the mushrooms were made for heat. All we need now is a new loom. Now, I wonder, what if there were more treadles? Perhaps four? We could make more interesting patterns.”

I laugh, grab his hand, and squeeze it. “You a weaver now, Sprisk. Yes, let do that. One day. Now, I want to check your skin for burns. I have pots with healing things.”

“Yes, soon,” he says. “First I want you to see something… where is it… ah.”

He thrusts two fingers into the center of the bundle of roots and fishes something out. He hands it to me.

It’s a light gray stone as long as an iPhone, but twice as thick and about half the width. It’s a smoothly polished oval that lies perfectly in my hand. In the exact middle there’s a long hole with a thin stick placed lengthwise into grooves that hold it in place.

“That’s the nicest shuttle I’ve ever seen,” I marvel. “Did you find it? You not can have made it in just a couple days!”

“Finding the rock was the hard part. It had to be smooth and long. I searched the creek well past the clearing before I found it. The rest was easy.” He touches the tip of his horn.

“You carved it with your horn?” I ask, incredulous. “From stone?! ”

“The horn is hard,” he says with satisfaction. “You said I’m harder than the jungle, and that turned out to be true.”

I put the shuttle into my backpack and take out one of the little pots with medical remedies. None of them are marked ‘burns’, but the one marked ‘lotion’ probably won’t make him worse, anyway.

“Turn around,” I command. “I will check for burns.”

Sprisk turns his wide, V-shaped back to me, and I enjoy exploring the immense area of skin over dense muscle. I notice that while the skin is maybe a shade redder than before, my fingertips still leave little rainbow wakes. So I doubt it’s damaged that badly.

“You put fabric over me,” I purr as I apply a thin layer of mystery lotion in the reddest places. “So I not burn in fire. Very kind Sprisk, no fabric for himself. Only for me.”

“We knew the fabric doesn’t burn well,” he rumbles. “I was hoping we were right about that.”

“We were,” I assure him as I move to his thick arms. “I not get burn at all. Thanks to you.”

“And to the creek,” he points out. “That first blast of heat was bad. I think the water helped us.”

“Mhm. Turn around.”

He obeys dutifully, and I keep checking him for burns. There are some red spots, but they’re much less prominent now than right after the explosion. Where he was bleeding from his face I can still see the cut, but I think the fire cauterized it and it’s not bleeding anymore.

I apply a thin layer of lotion, just in case. “Stings?”

Sprisk steals a kiss at my cheek. “No. It’s a very smooth cheek.”

“I mean the lotion!”

He smirks. “It doesn’t sting. Did you want it to?”

I place a kiss at his lips, getting my revenge. “No. How about that?”

“I don’t know. Try again?”

Putting down the pot of lotion, I place one hand behind his neck and pull him to me, starting a deep, tender kiss that lasts for a good while.

“I missed you,” I coo when we disengage. “I don’t like the village. No unicorn there.”

“There’s a shaman and a chief and a totem wall, but no unicorn,” Sprisk ponders. “It sounds ridiculous. What village doesn’t have a unicorn? ”

“Only the boring ones,” I state and stroke my palm across his chest, raising a big rainbow that fades fast. “But soon that village will have one. And shaman. For a little while,” I add quickly when I sense that Sprisk is about to protest. “Just for wedding. And then, can do anything we want.”

“I wonder what we’ll do,” Sprisk says and pushes the straps down from my shoulders. “Something strange, I bet.”

I help him get the dress all the way off me. “Actually, I have suggestion. Is strange and wild, just what unicorns like.”

“I can’t wait to see what it is,” he says and sheds the remains of his canvas-like kilt. “It must have something to do with cows .”

“ Cows?!” I laugh, happy that he remembers the word I taught him. “No!”

I slide the panties off me and hang them on a suitable twig, hard tingles going through me. Holy cow, he made sure to wrap the fabric around me, and not himself. He made sure I came out of that unscathed, not himself. And of course it wasn’t he who set that nasty vismonk trap. I’ve never before been so happy to be wrong.

Sprisk grabs me and sets me down on his lap with his rock-hard alien cock between us. “ Pigs , then.”

“No.”

He kisses me and slides his hands down my bare back, raising goosebumps all over me. “ Submreens.”

“Oh… good guess, but no.” I place one hand around the tip of his cock, reaching just two thirds of the way around it.

Sprisk grabs my butt and lifts me up, so that his cock is touching my soaked entrance. “I know. We will go hunting for a loyltikard. ”

“Yeeessss!” I groan as he lowers me onto his cock.

“I knew it,” he growls.

I grab his horn with one hand. “No more talk, my unicorn love. Just fuck me.”