- Emilia -

“I've created a monster,” I groan as the last aftershocks of yet another planet-shattering orgasm slowly subside and I get my breath back. This was the first time today, but I'm still sore from the four or five times we've fucked since yesterday afternoon.

Ar'ox has a satisfied look on his alien face as he gets up to start the day. “Emilia says many things in her secret speech.”

“Good things only.” I glance around the cave, half expecting to see Alice sitting there. But of course she has other things to do with her time. She's a wild animal, not a pet, and there's a good chance I'll never see her again. Still, I miss her.

I get up and stretch, just because I can. I saved some salen fruit from yesterday, and they seem to have survived the night. If Alice doesn't return, I might never get hold of any again, and that would totally break my heart. But for now, I dig into one and feel the kaleidoscope of flavors fill my mouth.

I hold one out to Ar'ox, but he just looks at it with some longing and munches on a dry piece of terot instead.

“Yes,” I say with my mouth full, “we try to save some of salen fruit for later.”

He goes to fire up the forge in his smithy, and I get dressed in my now pretty dirty dinosaur skin dress.

“Ar'ox think Gur'ex make clothes?”

Ar'ox stokes the fire that he uses to heat iron to make blades. “Yes. For many years. Warriors don't use many garments.”

“Cool. I'll go and talk him.”

Ar'ox examines a rough iron shape. “Very well. Don't leave the village. The gates are closed today. Someone saw hunters from another tribe not far away.”

I go up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek, and he gives me a roguish smirk. He enjoyed our night at least as much as I did.

Gur'ex is at his loom, and now the mat he's weaving is darker than the one I saw yesterday.

“Good morning,” I say. “Is up early.”

“Yes, indeed you are,” the old man who I gather is the chief says and smiles. “A woman with a smile like the sun should get up with the sun, so that the sun will get jealous.”

I meant him, but I see no reason to explain. “Thank you.”

I sit down without being invited to. These guys have never seen women before, so their manners are probably rusty and I have to be a little proactive.

His cave is even more sparse than Ar'ox's. His sword hangs on the wall and looks rusty, and the walls are bare. There are some skins on the floor and the corked tap where the water from the salen trees comes out. And by one wall there is a rough vase with a dry twig in it.

That's it. That's all he has to show for a whole life in the village. As chief, even. Nobody can accuse him of being greedy.

“Noble warrior Gur'ex making wonderful fabric.”

He shrugs and continues working, sending the wooden shuttle back and forth and working the primitive mechanism with one gnarled, wrinkled hand. “Sometimes wonderful, sometimes not. More often not, truth be told. In my youth the material was better, and I could make very fine things that felt like water to the hand. Now, the threads are much coarser.”

He's right. That stuff he's weaving now looks about as suitable for making clothes from as rough sackcloth. “Why threads are coarser?”

“The cloudflower plant is no longer to be found close to the village. We used too much, because we liked soft fabric in our shirts. We had to walk further and further away to find them. And then there were no more.”

He points to the vase with the dry twig, and get up and I walk over. It's not a twig. It's an old flower. The stem and the leaves are dry and reddish, but it has a small ball of a flower at the top. It's shimmering gray and so fine I can't make out the structure of it. But I understand how it would be possible to make a fine thread from it.

That makes me curious. “Gur'ex have cloudflower fabric?”

He stops working and looks at me. He's old, but he still has a smouldering fire in his eyes. “As it happens, I did save the very last piece I wove. I don't know why I saved it. I suppose I felt that we should remember what we could once make. But now I realize it's been lying uselessly hidden for many years.”

He gets laboriously to his feet. I have an impulse to stand up and help him, but I also feel that it would be wrong. We all need our pride.

I see him rummage through a wooden bin at the back of the cave, and then he comes back and sits slowly down. “This is the last piece of cloudflower fabric anywhere in the village.”

He unfolds a little bundle. The fabric inside is blindingly white and so fine I can't even see the individual threads.

He gives me a corner of the large sheet.

I can't believe the feel of the fabric. It's cool and feels like it's flowing. Satin would be coarse by comparison. “Like ... water!”

Gur'ex smiles. “My fabrics were much enjoyed in the old days. They cool in the daytime and provide warmth at night. Many warriors wore white garments while hunting, and that often got them killed. It's not a natural color, and they were very visible in the jungle. But they liked the way they looked.” He chuckles.

I rub the fabric against my cheek. “Soft. Gur'ex also make garments?”

He juts his jaw out. “Many times. It was once common to wear clothes on the upper body when we had the fabrics for it.”

I look down my body. The dinosaur skin dress is tough, but baggy and so ugly I'm glad I haven't seen a mirror for weeks. It's dirty, too. “Can make woman clothes?”

He eyes my filthy cavewoman dress skeptically. “Like that one?”

“Or nice one?” I suggest. “Garment that fits me.”

He gets up again and walks stiffly to the back of his cave again, then return with a wooden box. He wipes the dust off the top and opens it. Inside are several small, shiny knives and wooden needles, as well as thread in different thicknesses and various fabrics in different colors. “Emilia is smaller than a warrior, but about the same size as a boy,” he says and then takes in my hips and chest with narrow eyes. “Except for the ... hmm ... that. Yes, I can probably make something.”

That makes me pretty excited and I give him a happy smile. “Cool!”

Then I spend a pleasant hour with him, discussing how my dress should be and picking out fabrics from the scraps that he's saved from many years ago.

I watch him work for a while. He has no scissors, but even though he complains about how stiff his fingers are and how long it has been since last time he did this, he uses the little knives with a quickness and a precision that tells me he must once have been really good. He still seems perfectly competent to me.

He glances up at me. “This will take a while. Emilia has other things to do, probably.”

I scratch my chin. “Probably.”

He's right. I should be more useful than this. I had a really good start, with Alice and the salen fruits, and there's no reason I can't keep preparing for the farming idea.

Which reminds me. “Gur'ex. What you think of outcast warrior?” I mean Jax'zan, of course. I have to know how these guys will meet him.

He takes his time in answering, just concentrating on the work. But I'm sure he heard me.

“Being cast out is the worst fate,” he begins. “Worse than death. Much worse. We all die at some time. But an outcast dies fast. The woods are dangerous. Alone, he can't survive. Maybe for some days. Maybe for one cycle of Yrf. But when he must leave the tribe, it means his death. A bad death, knowing that you have lost your tribe and your place as an Ancestor. As an outcast, you don't become an Ancestor. You fade into nothing and are forgotten forever. Losing the tribe is the worst that can happen to any warrior.”

“And what about outcast from other tribe? If come here? You kill?”

He squints up at me briefly, then thinks again. “Outcast from other tribe. Hmm. I've never met one. But someone who gets cast out has often done something extremely bad. He might have killed a tribesman or dulled or broken a sword that wasn't his.”

“If outcast is from other tribe,” I try to explain. “And is good man. Is outcast for bad reason. Not kill, not dull or break sword. Then he come here. Strong and good and powerful. Good hunter. He ask for safety of the village. What will happen?”

This time the silence goes on for minutes while he works and thinks. Cavemen take their time, I guess.

Finally he looks out over the jungle below. “If he's a good man, which seems it would be hard for him to prove, then he might be allowed into the village. He would be expected to serve the village in the best way. If he's a hunter, he would be expected to hunt.”

“Tribe would not kill outcast from other tribe?”

“Not if he came here and sincerely asked for safety.”

“Would be allowed to stay as tribesman?”

He thinks again. “Difficult,” he says at last.

Huh. It doesn't seem like I'll get the reply I wanted. But that's life sometimes. I think that if Jax'zan comes here with me and the other girls, the tribe would have to accept him or get none of us. At least the situation doesn't seem to be all dark – it doesn't sound like they'll kill him immediately.

I get to my feet. “Thank you for time, Gur'ex. I be back soon. I like watch you work.”

He looks up at me, and it seems as if the fire in his eyes has taken on a new intensity. “Good. Emilia is welcome any time.”

I've seen that look before, but not on him.

“Gur'ex be Ar'ox's father, yes?”

He juts his chin out. “I have that honor. And that pride. Ar'ox is the best warrior and hunter in the tribe for many generations. Soon I'll be his Ancestor. Very soon.”

On impulse I bend down and hug his bony shoulders. “Not soon. Live long.”

He just gives me an impish smile. “I've lived long already. No reason to live too long.”

- - -

I saunter around the village, familiarizing myself with the paths and the caves. Whenever I meet someone, I greet them and try to ask them something. I've read somewhere that if you want someone to like you, the fastest way is to ask them for help. Like asking for directions or something small like that. And I really want these people to not hate me.

I was never the most outgoing person, but when I get the other girls here, it'll be easier for them to be accepted if these guys have a good impression of me already. After the success with the salen fruits yesterday, I feel a lot more confident. And I guess a night of hot lovemaking with the best guy on the planet probably helps my mood, too.

They're all pretty reserved, but they answer my questions and they return my smiles. I get the feeling that at least they don't actively dislike me. I suppose that as a mythical creature suddenly come to life, that's the best I can hope for.

Finally I'm at the gate. It's closed, like Ar'ox said. Heavy logs keep it securely locked.

Well, I wasn't planning to leave today anyway. I'll go looking for the cave and the girls when I have prepared. I'll want my new clothes done first, and I also have to run that whole thing by Ar'ox. Not that he has any say in it, ultimately, but it would make everything so much easier if he were to come with me. In fact, I really don't see my search succeeding without him. Both because I'd need him to keep me safe and because I have no idea at all in which direction Bune is. I could waste time and walk to my death in the completely wrong direction.

Two guards are sitting nearby.

“Gate closed?” I ask unnecessarily.

“Closed,” they confirm. “Some of the Bigs are acting up.”

I tilt my head in puzzlement. That's not what Ar'ox said. “I thought there no Bigs close to village?”

They look at each other. “Sometimes,” one offers. “Sometimes they come close. We hear them and we close the gates.”

The gate looks solid enough. But I've seen the Bigs, the real dinosaurs. Most of them could barge right through it without noticing that it was there, trampling the huge logs with no problem at all. Smalls, sure. The normal sized animals will be kept out, as well as enemy tribes. And I have a feeling that's the whole point of the gate. Not Bigs. If they want to walk right in here, not much can stop them. And wasn't the point of building the village here in the first place that no Bigs come here?

“Very good,” I say and smile sweetly. “Keep us safe.” I turn away and wander back up the path. I have a strange feeling there's some other reason the gates are closed.

I walk aimlessly around until I find myself at the other end of the village, where the wall is in much worse shape and unguarded. I'm pretty sure I can climb over it from this side. From the other side, I don't know. But I'd really like to see Alice again. Maybe that's why the gate is closed – they don't want her to come back. I doubt that gate would keep her out.

Well, I want to see her again. I want her to know that I haven't forgotten her.

I examine the wall. The logs here have partly fallen inwards and are resting against the rocks that are supposed to prop them up. There's just enough room for me to squeeze through, I'm sure.

On the other side I can see some plants that intrigue me. The treeline where the jungle starts is pretty close, but I can see something red on some bushes much closer to the wall. They remind me so much of apples it makes my mouth water. After the success of the salen fruits, bringing back another fruit has to be good for the village. These are easier to get, too – you don't need a gray ghost to pick them for you.

I look back at the village. I can't see anyone. Is this a good idea? If nobody knows that I've left, and something happens to me out there, then I'm probably good and screwed. But if Alice is somewhere out there, maybe looking for me, then I want to see her. I miss having her in my arms and feeling her thin alien body against me. I'd hate it if I just abandoned her after our cool experiences yesterday.

That does it. I make myself as thin as I can and squeeze through the narrow open wedge between two logs, and then I'm on the other side.

I just stand there for several minutes, scouting for threats. I can get back inside in just two seconds at the most. Then I slowly walk over to the bushes I saw, trying to be silent in the long grass. Yes, those things look a lot like apples. They're small, but ripe.

I pick one off the bush and examine it closely, then sniff it. My mouth waters even more at the fresh and spicy smell. I use one untrimmed nail to slice the skin, just to check that it isn't the egg of some terrible creature. I'm taking no chances with his planet.

It isn't. Inside, the fruit is white and juicy. I give my moist nail a little lick.

“Futttsszzzzttthhhh!” My mouth feels like it tightens up all by itself, and I instinctively spit the tiny amount of juice out again. Yep, that's so sour it puts to shame any lemon I've ever tasted. I can only hope it's not too toxic.

I want to throw that deceptive-looking ball of pure acid far into the woods, but I'm afraid of alerting anything in there to my presence, so I bend down and place it neatly on the ground.

And then I spot it.

It's an innocent little plant with green leaves and a small, white flower. But that flower isn't ordinary. It looks like a little ball of cotton, so dainty and fine that I can't take my eyes off it. It looks a lot like that cloudflower plant that Gur'ex showed me. Of course that one was dried and had probably gone red with age, while this one is green and has more leaves on it than the one he had. This flower is white while the other was gray, but that was also probably an age thing.

That acid apple didn't turn out well, but what if I can plant cloudflowers? Gur'ex would have just the thing he needs to make that fine fabric, and I think that would make him happy.

There are many of them here, too. When I look closely, I can see a thin band of its pale green disappearing into the jungle, the flowers looking like little points of light in the sunshine.

I dig into the dirt with my fingers and extract the flower with a spindly ball of earth under it. I hope that's its whole root system. It's so small that I can probably take more than one, so I dig up four more and hold them carefully in my hand when I squeeze back in through the wall.

I feel safer again immediately, and I also feel giddy with joy that I might be able to surprise Gur'ex with the thing he seemed to want the most.

I walk along the inside of the wall, looking for a suitable spot to plant the cloudflowers. Beside the Lifegiver enclosure there's a patch of grass where not much else grows, and that looks perfect. It makes sense that the best soil is reserved for the Lifegivers, but the dirt next to it has to be pretty good, too. These little flowers won't take up much space.

I dig five little holes close together and carefully plant the cloudflowers. As I pat the loose soil down around them I feel even better than before. I know approximately the size of all the girls back at the cave. When I leave to go get them, I can ask Gur'ex to start making clothes for all of them! Then, when they get here, they'll get the best welcome gift ever.

There won't be any cloudflower ready by then, of course. I can't imagine that five little flowers is nearly enough for even an ounce of fabric. But he has other fabrics, too. And I can probably scrounge up some more stuff among the other cavemen.

And in time, there will be more cloudflowers. I'll make it work. I'll cultivate them and pick the flowers and maybe even learn how to make the fine threads from the cotton-like material. Maybe Gur'ex will show me how to weave? I can take over from him if he wants to retire! I'll make fabrics and sew clothes for the girls, real nice stuff in cool designs. And underwear!

I'm pretty much rubbing my dirty hands together now, so happy with my plans I can't help grinning. Stars, this is the best I've felt for a long-ass time. It's still an alien planet, so terrible it freezes my heart sometimes. But in a way, it makes little pleasures seem much bigger than they would otherwise.

Life here doesn't have to be terrible. At least not every single moment.

I find a place where the water pipes are leaking and carry some water in my cupped hands over to the newly planted flowers. Then I carefully rinse my hands and nails and walk fast towards Ar'ox's cave. I haven't seen him for hours and I miss him.

I'll keep the cloudflowers secret from him, too. I'd love to surprise him with a white shirt some day. Nice and tight, to show off his muscles, and maybe his tiger stripes juuuust shine through the white fabric ... Maybe make him some wooden cufflinks, sew a necktie, a nice dark jacket ...

The fantasy of what Ar'ox might look like in a business suit sends tingles to my girly bits, and I walk faster.

He may be a caveman. But that doesn't mean he has to dress like one.