Chapter 5
– Theodora –
The next morning, I bounce up from my curled-up position on the saucer floor, heart hammering. The hatch is open! And there’s a loud scream from outside!
Standing there, tense as a bowstring, I wake up properly and remember the day before. Kenz’ox and Aker’iz moved in, and I had no choice but to let them, although it felt like a defeat—like losing my last safe place.
I tried to suggest they sleep outside, but Kenz’ox ignored me and put the baby to sleep on the saucer’s floor before he got busy making food and cutting wood.
I found no way to start a conversation about it. What was I going to say? I have no arguments except that this place is mine. Even in my own mind, that sounded feeble.
After that, there wasn’t much I could do except curl up a decent distance from the caveman after sunset—and feel a strange little envy of the baby, who got to sleep right next to him.
And to top it off, the light inside the saucer changed when they came inside. It went from cold blue to warm yellow, and a mild hum started sounding from the walls. Those two even have a better connection with this saucer than I do.
Now, the light is back to normal and the hum is gone.
“Welcome to your new life,” I mutter. There’s a leather sheet dropped in a corner, the saucer smells of the herbs Kenz’ox uses as lotion for the baby, and I swear there are dirty footprints on the floor.
Another shrill scream pierces the silence.
The sour feeling of defeat and loss washes over me again as my limbs relax from the sudden panic. The jungle is in here now. Planet Xren is inside my safe space.
I clench my eyes shut for a moment, getting my emotions under control, before I wipe my cheeks and walk out.
Kenz’ox is sitting outside, trying to feed Aker’iz. But she’s not having it and makes sure it’s known.
He’s lit the campfire and is boiling something in a pot.
“It be nice if you close that,” I snap, pointing at the hatch. “It keep smell out.”
He looks up. “Good morning, Tedora.”
“And it is not ‘Tedora.’ It’s Theodora. If too hard, just say ‘Dorie’.” Yeah, I was never a morning person. And the day after I had to let strangers into my home, I’m not at my most cheerful.
He holds my gaze for a second, then looks down at the baby. She’s now happily sucking on the juice-soaked leather sheet.
I carefully scan the edge of the jungle for dangers before going behind the usual bush. When I emerge, Aker’iz is done eating, but she’s still not happy and makes sure we know it. Her young voice even overpowers the constant roar from the surf.
“You think that bring Bigs?” I ask, trying to keep the acid out of my voice. “Is not safe place anymore.”
“Her screams may keep the Bigs away,” Kenz’ox counters. “They may think she’s an irox.”
I reflexively look up. But there’s no dactyl-like dino in the sky, or what little I can see of it. “You sure about that?”
He gently strokes Aker’iz’s head with his giant, scarred hand. “No.”
“No,” I echo. “Because is not true. This bring danger. Not is safe place!”
“If there’s danger, we can go inside,” he says calmly. “No Big will get close, then.”
The baby resumes her breakfast, giving no explanation for her loud protests.
I can’t see a way to deal with this without being an absolute jerk. Of course, the baby needs safety. I get that. But it gives this caveman intruder the ultimate argument to do just about anything in my home.
And I don’t want them in my home. It’s mine and Callie’s—the only place the jungle couldn’t reach. And now it’s inside.
“Yes,” I agree tightly as I check out the pot he’s boiling. It looks like fruits of various kinds, like a compote, as well as herbs. Probably he’s preparing the food for the baby. But all I can think is he moved my stuff. And I was going to fry some filets over that fire.
“What if you and Aker’iz not go in ship until danger comes? You can sleep outside. Build a hut. I can help.”
He puts Aker’iz over one massive shoulder and pats her back. “The ship is safer than a hut. Bigs and Smalls may not come here, but Tinies might. They don’t think much. I want Aker’iz sleeping safely at night. With the door closed.”
“The hatch,” I snap, feeling powerless and latching on to the only thing I can object to in what he said without being a total bitch. “Is not a door. Is hatch.”
“Hatch,” he repeats. “Did you hear that, Aker’iz?”
The baby gives off a little burp and then squeals with glee as Kenz’ox lifts her over his head and tosses her into the air like a toy.
She doesn’t sound like a dactyl at all. The girls and I were always so careful about not making noises any louder than the hiss from the beach, and now there’s a freaking siren.
I spot Otis standing on one of the barricades, staring at the newcomers with his gigantic eyes. I walk over to him. “Yeah, they moved in last night. Just like that.”
He snakes his tail around my waist without taking his eyes off Kenz’ox.
“I know,” I tell him as I reach down to scratch the back of his head. “Callie’s not back yet. I wonder what she’d do if she came home and saw that guy. She couldn’t just come out and say ‘hi.’ She might have to stay away unless she saw me there, too.”
Kenz’ox suddenly gets up, staring at us. “Move away, Dorie! Slowly!”
“Not danger,” I yell back to him. “Only Otis. Is nice.”
He comes striding, hand on his sword. “That’s a griket. Very dangerous. Step away from it.”
Otis’s grip on my waist tightens and he dips his head, still staring.
“Dangerous to other,” I state. “Not to me. Not hurt him.”
The two deadly creatures stare at each other.
“It’s all right. It’s just Kenz’ox.” I carefully grab a handful of Otis’s fur to keep him from pouncing. If he does, Kenz’ox may have no other choice but to kill him. “Kenz’ox, it better if you go back to Aker’iz. Otis not will attack.”
I’m not sure about that at all. If Otis is as territorial as some predators on Earth, he might want to get rid of these two intruders in the way he sees as the most effective.
Kenz’ox slowly pulls back a couple of paces. “If I see a griket anywhere near Aker’iz, I will chase it away in any way I can. One griket looks like any other.”
“Is good. He not likes the ship.” I glance down at Otis and pull gently at the hank of fur. “You stay away from that saucer, you hear me?”
He gives me a quick glance, and his tail slides to the ground as he relaxes it. Then he turns around and trots back into the jungle, the tip of his six-foot tail drawing casual figure eights in the air.
A spark of pride makes me straighten my neck a fraction. I’m guessing that making friends with a predator like Otis is not common in the tribes.
Kenz’ox and Aker’iz are back to playing, and the baby coos and squeals and babbles happily. I think she must be developing fast, but that could be normal for a Xren child.
I make my way to the beach. Shielding my eyes, I look up and down the beach, hoping to see a slender figure sauntering this way.
But there’s only driftwood and rocks, and no footprints that aren’t old or my own.
I gather a good amount of dry wood to burn, then think about the plan that the girls and I always had about making a boat for fishing.
We think there must be fish in the ocean, or creatures very much like it.
The fear of sea monsters stopped us, as well as the immense amount of work involved and our lack of steel tools.
But now there’s a caveman with a big sword. Maybe he can make a raft, at least.
I return with the firewood. The fire is still going, and now there are six nice-looking skewers being grilled. They smell really good—which they should, because those are the meat slices that Sprisk gave us after his last hunt here. Looks like Kenz’ox just took them without asking.
“There is water,” I tell Kenz’ox, who’s filling several small pots from the one he was boiling earlier. “Can you hear?”
He listens, head tilted. “I was hoping that was what it meant. This girl always has things that must be cleaned. That’s easier in a stream or a waterfall. What kind of water is it?”
“Not stream or river,” I tell him, as the word for ocean doesn’t come to mind. “Big water. Flat.”
“A lake? It’s very noisy for a lake. Surely it’s a waterfall?”
“Big lake,” I reply. “But not a lake.”
He scratches his chin. “A big lake that’s not a lake. I see.”
“You will see. Are these to eat?” I point at the skewers. They smell incredible.
“That was the idea. Take some. They must be done by now.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know if he hears the sarcasm in my voice about being graciously offered my own food. “Next time, perhaps can ask.”
He tilts his head. “You did ask.”
“I mean you. You ask when take food for eat. And not we use that wood for food fire. Smoke not good. That wood better.” I point to the stack of sweet-smelling wood that Sprisk cut for us. The driftwood usually gives the meat a sour note.
He gives me a searching look. “That sepper wood is better. But it grows slowly and burns fast. In the tribe, we only use it when cooking for feasts or celebrations.”
“This not the tribe,” I snap. “This my place.” Still, I take a bite out of a skewer. It’s tender and soft, nutty, and perfectly balanced by the seasoning. And, I realize, it’s not my meat at all. This is a different thing, tastier and richer. This must be something Kenz’ox brought.
Now, what’s the caveman word for ‘sorry’?
Nah. I provided the wood for the skewers. And for the fire. When he apologizes for moving into my home without even asking me, I’ll apologize for snapping at him.
The baby is asleep in her pack, where the main flap is now completely open. It’s a smart design, not really caveman-like at all.
I finish two skewers and go inside the saucer. Callie’s stuff is still there. I decide to leave it there until she returns.