Page 27 of Caveman Alien’s Terror (Caveman Aliens #25)

- Astrid -

“She’s known about us the whole time,” I sigh. “She just doesn’t want to come and live here.”

The sun is setting and the sky is a deep red. The jungle under us is its usual colorful self, stretching to the horizon.

Bryar is busy cooking thin slices of meat on the fire while stirring a big pot with her other hand. All the girls are here at the Penthouse, a ragtag band wearing dinosaur skin clothes, ribbons made from grass, pretty stones, straw hats, leather belts, and bracelets. Everyone is here.

Except Cora.

“Did she say why?” Alba asks, chewing on the end of a straw.

It’s been a few days since I saw Cora, and I’ve needed some time to process my encounter with her. Also I needed a honeymoon, and I knew the girls didn’t want me to cut it short. After a couple of relaxed days with Praxigor and no dire, life-threatening crises to get out of, I’m rested and happier than I thought was possible on this planet.

“She tried,” I tell them. “But I’m not sure I quite got it. I think it’s one of those things that it’s hard to verbalize. Or maybe she hates me and she’s too tactful to say. I wouldn’t blame her.”

Bronwen frowns. “She knew we were living here. She must have understood we were worried about her, that we thought she might be dead. And still she made no attempt to contact us?”

“I didn’t confront her with that,” I admit. “I was so relieved to see her, it wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to ask. I was probably not the right person to be the first to contact her.”

“How did she seem?” Alba asks. “Healthy? Content? Depressed? What?”

I get up from the rock I’ve been sitting on, just to stretch my legs. “She actually looked really healthy. She was so pale and thin before, remember? Now she has more of a glow to her, she’s not all skin and bones. She was… not exactly happy. But determined, I guess. Serious. Not a big fan of the cavemen.”

“Traumatized?” Bronwen asks, idly putting the end of a stick into the fire and poking at the coals.

“I wouldn’t know what to look for. Don’t we all have PTSD, though? Anyway, she’s not alone. She’s being cared for by a tribe of… I don’t know what they’re called. They’re big-eyed monkeys with a dozen arms each and fangs like tigers. I saw one of them in the tree Cora lives in. Apparently they talk with sign language and prefer not to be around cavemen. Or us. I actually met some of them before, with Praxigor. They had a big underground village that we broke into. I think I told you they kicked us out of it, so that Praxigor cracked his scales? Anyway, Cora’s tribe is a different one. They still give her food and shelter after they found her walking the woods years ago.”

The penthouse goes quiet as we all think about it.

I’m not sure how to feel. Relieved, of course. She’s still alive. And she’s doing pretty well. But the reunion wasn’t as glorious as I had secretly been hoping.

Bryar takes a wooden spoon and tastes the concoction in her pot. “She would be welcome here. But I’m sure you said so.”

I sit back down. “I tried to persuade her to come here, where it’s safe. I got as forceful as I thought I could. She’s not having it. She’s safer right where she is, she says. And she does appear to have a point.”

Piper nods. “We all have been in deadly danger many times each. Even after we came to the Borok tribe.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “Cora claims to have had a calm and uneventful life since the monkey things adopted her. Also, she would prefer if the cavemen are still kept unaware of her. She lives pretty close to the village, after all. I told her I can’t guarantee that, but I will ask you all to not tell anyone. Not even your husbands. Praxigor knows, though. He spotted her while flying over the jungle, specifically looking for her because he knew it was important to me.”

“Well, you haven’t told us where she lives,” Bryar points out. “So there’s not much we can reveal, anyway. Those monkeys must be good at hiding, though. If they’ve kept a woman secret from the tribes for years with nobody suspecting anything.”

I hide a yawn with my hand. My honeymoon was relaxing, but there wasn’t much sleeping. “Cora says they’re the closest thing Xren has to sentient beings. She says the cavemen came from elsewhere just a century or two ago. Which would seem to fit with what Praxigor told me about the dragon slayers.”

“Take a plate each,” Bryar says and takes the slices off the metal grill. “Let’s get some dinner.”

We munch on the food and open a pot of frit, cheering for Cora.

“Does she want us to send her stuff?” Bronwen asks. “Food? Tools? Medicines? Clothes?”

I suck a bone clean of tender meat. “She wants no contact with us. Every delivery of food or other items would mean a risk of being discovered by the cavemen. She says that if it hadn’t been for Praxigor, nobody would ever have found her. I think she’s right.”

Alba throws a bone into the fire. “Surely that risk is reduced to zero if Praxigor does the deliveries? The caveman wouldn’t be able to track him if he flew in and dropped supplies for her at night. Like, once a month. And a dragon should be good at keeping secrets, what with the hoards and so on.”

I rub my chin. “So, a couple of problems with that. First, Praxigor isn’t a delivery boy. He would find it beneath him to be sent on those errands. It’s actually really hard to get him to do anything that’s not his own idea, even for me. And things he doesn’t actively want to do? Forget it. Second, her monkeys hate dragons. They may take steps to keep him away, and their kind nearly killed us both before. They’re resourceful as hell. Third, Cora really doesn’t want it. She’s not kidding about that. She wants no contact. Period. But she liked my hair. Getting her hair done was the only thing that made her hesitate. But not for long.”

The penthouse is quiet again as we sip on frit and munch on slices of bread.

“Did you tell her about this?” Bronwen asks and holds up a rind of her bread. “Maybe just bring her a loaf. I mean, she won’t be able to resist!”

“I did mention the bread you make,” I tell her. “She somehow knew about it, too. Must have smelled it. Still no dice.”

“My bread is famous, even outside the village!” Bronwen beams. “I will add that to the description. Hmm. How about this: Cora’s Crunch. Our signature loaf, renowned for its otherworldly and leafy flavor. This unique creation features a blend of caveman-picked jungle nuts, unearthly flour for an ethereal texture, fancy alien yeast, and a secret blend of mysterious spices that tantalize the taste buds and might not kill you. Famous among the bread connoisseurs of the scariest fucking planet you ever saw.

We chuckle.

I wipe my mouth. “So, there’s something else. Not about Cora.”

They all look at me.

“There’s another dragon,” I tell them. “Not the ones I told you about before, the married ones on the other continent. This one is on this continent. In our jungle. His name is Betruchael. Golden scales. Mean and sneaky. Praxigor’s seen him a couple of times, years ago.”

“The golden menace,” Bryar says. “We’ve heard about that. Some tribesmen had to flee that part of the woods because of him. But I didn’t know he was a dragon.”

“Praxigor says he is. He’ll try to locate him without being too obvious about it. Dragon’s hate each other, and if they were to fight, he admits the outcome would be uncertain except that one of them would die.”

Alba sighs. “Another dragon. That’s just delightful.” She looks past me, and her eyes widen. “Not that I dislike dragons! Oh no. I like them. I think they’re… neat. With the… you know, the tails. And the talons. Oh hiii, Praxigor.”

I had already spotted him in the darkening sky, a magnificent blue dragon against the red sky.

He lands on the very top of the Mount so he’s out of sight for us, Changes up there, then jumps down onto the plateau of the Penthouse and saunters towards us, launching a herd of butterflies in my stomach.

“Hi, Alba,” he drawls. “How wonderful to know that you find me neat . It’s all I ever wanted to hear.”

There’s some nervous laughter. The girls can’t be sure how serious he is, if he’s being sarcastic or if he’s offended.

He comes over to me, lifts me off my feet, and kisses me deeply. “How is my love?”

“Really good,” I confess. “Better than ever. Ecstatic. And that’s not hyperbole.”

“Good,” he rumbles. “I can’t stand hyperbole. There’s something I want to show you.”

I glance at his crotch, because it’s usually that. “Um. Here?”

“Out there.” He looks out at the jungle, his pose one of perfectly relaxed elegance. I notice that the other girls, all happily married to incredible guys, have trouble taking their eyes off him.

“I guess I’m leaving,” I tell them. “For now, anyway.”

“Do you know where you’ll be staying?” Alba asks. While Bryar was able to get Korr’ax to agree to have the wedding in the village, actually having a dragon living inside the village walls was too much for the chief. And I can’t really blame him. So we don’t have a home yet.

“Not yet,” I tell the girls. “I’m not worried. We’ll find a good place.”

Praxigor jumps back up to the highest point, Changes to his dragon form, and comes in to land by the penthouse.

“So long.” I climb up on him and cling to his muscular neck as he takes off, wings beating and the whole dragon body moving with his living power.

I know about a place, he says as we soar into the warm evening sky. I hate going there, but you might like it.

“What kind of place?” I ask. “Why do you hate it?”

You’ll see. It’s obvious.

“All right.”

We’re flying straight into the sun. The air is balmy as it blows my hair back.. I’m safe on the back of my alien dragon, and to my constant joy and astonishment, my future looks bright. I guess some dreams come true.

We fly for a good while. It’s a big continent we’re on, but when Praxigor starts to descend, I think I can see an ocean ahead of us.

“Are we there?” I ask as we spiral downwards.

Yes, the dragon says, and I sense revulsion in him. And anger.

“Is it bad?”

The worst.

“My love, we don’t have to do this.”

Agreed. But we are doing it.

Again we land at the top of a tree, and we slide down the trunk because there’s no clearing to land in, hitting many branches on the way down and making a good amount of noise.

I brush leaves off me and pick a twig out of my hair. “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing, they say on my planet.”

“I don’t disagree,” Praxigor growls, back in his humanoid form. “But there are exceptions. Come along.”

In the distance I hear the soft hiss of waves hitting a beach. We must be just at the edge of the continent.

He leads me past trees and bushes.

“When I first came to this continent,” Praxigor says darkly, “the dragons I told you about, the ones I was trying to get away from, wanted to have even more fun with me. They found me here. I had just crawled out of the ocean, and I was exhausted. They found it proper to mock me even more than they already had. And they could. They were full dragons. I would be no match for them in a fight. They gave me the ultimate insult.”

We’ve flown so far towards the sun that we’ve caught up with the sunset. The sun is still above the horizon here, and the jungle is in red daylight.

Praxigor pushes a heavy branch aside. “They gave me that. ”

I stiffen, and my jaw drops. “That…”

“It’s the most horrific mockery,” he growls as he breaks off the branch and throws it away. “They wanted to degrade me in the worst way for not being a full dragon, the way they were.”

It’s shiny and metallic, the size of a house but round, perfectly curved.

“But…” I begin, but I have so many questions I can’t pick one to ask.

“Dragons fly through the Void alone,” he grunts. “With our wings, our dragon powers. We never need these things, these travesties, these contraptions . It would be a supreme humiliation to even go inside one, implying I’m not a real dragon, that I’m so feeble and weak that I need help. Help! To fly! Oh, it rankled me. Still it makes me furious. How dare they!” He punches the metal, setting the whole thing ringing, but not leaving a dent.

“You had this the whole time?! ” I splutter. “Without telling me?!”

He looks at me, puzzled. “You didn’t ask.”

I clutch at my head in exasperation. “I did ask! I’m sure I did!”

He gives a master class in the arching of eyebrows. “You asked how I would leave the planet. And I said that I would fly with my wings. Which is true.”

“But still! You had this!” I gesture with both hands. “You had a flying saucer the whole time!”

He kicks at the saucer. “It’s an insult! It’s a mockery! It’s the greatest humiliation I’ve ever been subjected to! They gave me a spaceship , my love! Me! A dragon! As if I needed it! And I did! Don’t you see how that would hurt and fester?! ”

I can’t believe this. “You could have left the planet at any time?! And still you stayed, preferring to die of a lack of gold to simply flying away in a spaceship?! ”

“Yes!” he roars so the leaves tremble in a mile-wide radius around us. “I would rather die than use one of those to fly in! A thousand times!”

“You are crazy .” I walk closer and inspect the saucer. It’s on an even keel, a little bit dug into the ground at the bottom. There’s a nest of something under one side of it, but it’s old and abandoned. “Does it work?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “They had a Plood to fly it here. They chased him into the woods, as an added insult to me. Because without a servant to fly it, I would have to learn how to use it myself. A dragon! Learning to use a spaceship! Oh, those vermin! ” He grinds his teeth.

I touch the side of the saucer. It’s not quite metal, and not quite plastic. “Is there a door?”

“There,” Praxigor says and points. “You said we need a place to stay, one that’s out of the rain and dry and not too drafty. Where the giant insects won’t come. This is the only place I know that’s like that.”

I stare at the saucer for a while. It opens some interesting possibilities. Even if it doesn’t work.

Then I turn my back to it. “You did this for me . You took me here, showing me the greatest humiliation of your life, just because I want a dry place to stay. Even though seeing this thing makes you furious and it reminds you of terrible things.”

He looks away. “Well, you are my wife.”

I embrace him and look up, my vision clouded by tears. “Forever. And I’m very happy I am.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You can open the door and look inside. Maybe you can learn to fly it. Or we can live here. It will be our home.”

“No.”

He looks down on me, puzzled. “It’s dry inside. And clean. Comfortable, I’m sure.”

I smile up at him. “I’m sure it’s perfect. But you hate this thing. You’re my husband, so I hate it too. I don’t want to live here. I understand what you wanted to do for me, Praxigor. And I love that you did it. I love you . Now let’s leave.”

His blowtorch eyes pierce me for a moment. “Are all marriages like this? Where both love each other with such… ferocity? ”

“Only the best ones,” I tell him. “Let’s go. We have to find a home. At least for tonight.”

He Changes and we fly away.

I don’t give the saucer a second look. It will keep.

We fly through the air, having no particular destination except that we’re flying back into the night.

I lean back. “There’s the moon. If someone looks up, they’ll see our silhouette against it. Do you think they’ll know we’re in love?”

Of course. Our love is obvious to all. Even to me, now.

I squeeze his neck. “Took you long enough.”

He chuckles. Better late then never, as they say.

The wind rushes past as we soar higher, the jungle stretching endlessly below us. Praxigor’s wings beat steady and strong, carrying us forward—toward what, I don’t know. A home, a future, something we’ll carve out together.

I press a hand to his scales, feeling the steady warmth beneath. No matter where we land, no matter what comes next, we will face it together.

A dragon and his wife. An Earth girl shaman and her husband. It’s a love that defies every convention, every expectation. And we both came out on top.

I grin into the wind. “You know what, my love? This is the win-win I meant.”