- Caroline -

“Xark’on!” I call urgently and shrink back from the newcomers.

“I’m here,” he says softly behind me before he takes my arm and holds me behind his back.

Then he stops and puts one hand at his belt. “Greetings, Roti’ax and Yru’zan!”

“Greetings, Xark’on,” they reply, and their voices aren’t unfriendly. Just reserved.

I check out their stripes. Green, although not quite as brightly green as Xark’on. So they’re from the same tribe probably They’re both large men, but not as muscular as Xark’on. One of them is a little older too, I think, while the other is about the same age as Xark’on. I notice that they both have swords in their belts, not hammers like Xark’on.

“This is your trap?” the older one says.

“Not yet,” Xark’on replies. “Still many days of work lie ahead.”

“Of course. You’re a staunch worker, as always. And now you appear to have help.” Both the newcomers stare holes in me.

Xark’on squeezes my arm in reassurance and pulls me out from half-hiding behind him. “The Ancestors saw fit to send me a woman.”

There’s a stunned silence as they stare at me, looking me up and down in a way that doesn’t feel nearly as good as when Xark’ion does it.

“A woman?” the older man finally asks. “But then, have you been—”

“No, Roti’ax,” Xark’on cuts him off. “This is not The Woman or the Treasure. This is another woman. From the stars.”

The younger man’s gaze glues itself to my chest. “From the stars? From the Ancestors? But not The Woman? How?”

Xark’on shrugs. “The Ancestors work in strange ways sometimes. They sent her to guide me. Her name is Caroline.”

“Guide you? In what way?”

“She has shown me how to work faster and better. Because of her, the trap will be ready many days sooner.”

“It will?”

“It will indeed, Yru’zan,” Xark’on says patiently. “Have you come to help too perhaps?”

“No, no,” the young man says hurriedly. “You know I have a fragile back. Digging would quite finish me off.”

“And you, Roti’ax? Surely you’ve come to help me dig this trap, the sooner to be rid of the terror?”

“Ah, I wish I could, Xark’on. I wish I could. Such an important job you do for the tribe here. But you know, my duties in the village...” The older man shrugs as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Yes, I know it’s back-breaking work to cure the skin of Smalls and then sit in the shadow while they hang to dry. I don’t blame you, Roti’ax. The Ancestors gave me this task. And now they’ve given me a woman to guide me and to brighten my days while I work.”

The young man frowns. “But... a woman. Are you sure she’s not The Woman?”

Xark’on turns to me. “Are you The Woman, Caroline?”

“No,” I state with finality. “I’m not at all. I come from another planet. From very far away. I have my own tribe here too.”

“You see?” Xark’on says. “She even talks strange. She’s a woman. But she’s not The Woman.”

The younger man is still not convinced. “But... have you Worshipped her?”

Xark’on stands tall. “I have. And she has Worshipped me.”

There’s another stunned silence.

“And,” Xark’on says with pride, “I’ve mated with her.”

Now they’re both just staring, jaws hanging slack.

“But... if... I mean... she... you...”

“Yes,” Xark’on says, very gravely. “She can mate, just like the shaman told us. It is a wonderful thing that I can’t describe. And she’s fierce. When I met her, I saw her fight a rekh without suffering a scratch. With that spear! Don’t judge her by her size. She’s dangerous. The Ancestors watch over her.”

“Surely,” the older man says, having collected himself, “you should take her to the village?”

“Why? We have no shaman these days. And while you are our chief, I doubt you'd be able to determine anything more about her. And I wonder, Roti’ax, do you doubt the things I say?” There’s a hidden menace in Xark’on’s words.

“No, no,” the chief says quickly. “Of course I don’t doubt it. I just mean, she’s a woman. The first woman here since ours were taken many generations ago! Should we not... I mean... “

“Share her?” Xark’on suggests with deceptive mildness. “Watch what you say now. The Ancestors sent her to me.”

“Perhaps,” Yru’zan says, “she’s a guide to the Treasure.”

“Perhaps,” Xark’on agrees. “Now, tribesmen. I have digging to do. Why are you here?”

“We came to see your trap,” Chief Roti’ax says. “You know we’re all very excited about it. Especially in view of the Treasure.”

“When the trap has been successful, then the Treasure will come to the tribe. And everything will be more glorious than you can imagine. Now you’ve seen the trap, or the beginnings of it. You didn’t happen to bring me anything, did you? Some food? Some drink? Some delicacies for the one man who’s busy working alone in the jungle for the whole tribe and its future?”

Yru’zan just stares in confusion.

“We thought it best not to carry food through the jungle,” Roti’ax says smoothly, and even I can hear that he’s making it up. “You know, some Bigs have a very good sense of smell. They might attack us.”

“They don’t like sacks of krunik, I think,” Xark’on points out. “Nor those sweet little cakes that Ilur’ox makes. You came her from curiosity, bringing me nothing. I wonder what this woman thinks of your courtesy.”

Roti’ax sighs. “Xark’on, of course if we knew that she was here, we would maybe have brought her something.”

“But to me, your tribesman, you would not bring anything. It has been noted. Now, some of us have work to do, and you two have a long way home to the village. Off you go now. Don’t come back until the trap is ready and I come and invite you. Chief Roti’ax, you can prepare a batch of the finest, smoothest brak skin in the village. I will pick it up later. So that I will take the risk with bringing things through the jungle that the Bigs might smell.”

“Of course,” the chief says.

Then Xark’on turns his back to the two men, and they awkwardly say goodbye and walk back the way they came, throwing puzzled glances behind them until the jungle swallows them.

“Your tribesmen,” I state.

“Not the best of them,” Xark’on says. “Those two rarely do anything of value. They’re not very revered. There are better warriors in the tribe.”

“They must hold you in high regard if you can talk to the chief like that.”

“Roti'ax knows that I could break his spine with one hand. He enjoys a relaxed life and knows that other men are of greater value to the tribe than him.”

“And now they all know that I’m here.”

He shrugs. “They do. But I doubt anyone in the tribe will dare to come here until I invite them. If I ever do that. Most of the men have more sense than these two. It’s a long way to come through the dangerous jungle to spy on a woman.”

“I’m the only one they know about, and they know where I am,” I calmly point out. “Don’t you think some of them might get curious?”

“They might. But then they will have to look at you in secret from far away or risk my wrath. And I’m the largest warrior in the tribe.”

He turns around and jumps into his hole.

I go back to my project. The water in the pots has evaporated and left a soggy residue that doesn’t resemble leaves anymore. It’s looking really promising.

Xark’on comes up from his hole, carrying his shovel.

“I’ll work a little more on this tomorrow,” I state. “Please dig a hole right here. Not too deep.”

In two heaves, Xark’on digs a hole you could fit a washing machine in. It’s far too deep for my purposes.

“Thank you. Now fill it in halfway. Okay. Good.” I wrap the pots in thick leaves and place them at the bottom of the hole, then drape more leaves over them. “Fill in the rest, please. Carefully.”

He does, we stomp the dirt smooth, and I grab my spear. Then, he takes my hand and we walk back towards the tree house.

We stop at the pond, strip off, and take a short dip to clean off. Xark’on cups my pussy with his hand, I give his rock-hard cock a tug, and then I walk on without bothering getting dressed. We don´t have any towels, and I don’t put my dress on until we´re almost back at the tree house.

When we get too the giant tree, Xark’on stops. He finds a half-rotted stump among the other trees, rips it up from the ground with his bare hands and sets it on the ground. “Some light still. Take out your weapons.”

I assume he doesn’t mean the spear, so I get the metal stars out of my pocket.

He takes me by the shoulder and leads me twenty feet from the stub. “First throw your spear at the target.”

I wind up and throw it. Before I came to Xren, I couldn’t throw for shit. My father did try to teach me once, but he gave it up as hopeless. But here, learning how to throw something is a matter of eating or not eating for the tribe, so I picked it up pretty quickly after I got my spear made. And I have killed a good amount of turkeypigs with it.

The spear glances off the upper left corner of the tree stub and continues in among the trees.

“Not bad,” Xark’on says. “You hit it, at least. Now try a star.”

I unwrap them and gingerly take one between two fingers. “I’m afraid it will cut me.”

“This side is flat. Here is a little notch for your finger. Hold it like this.” He places the star so that it’s in his palm, held with his thumb.

I get another sharp metal star and carefully place it the same way in my hand, and Xark’on helps guide my fingers right.

“Now attempt to throw your hand towards the target. Don’t think about the star. Just throw the hand as if it wasn’t attached to you.”

He slowly winds up and makes a throwing motion with his hand. His hand moves with deceptive slowness, and the star penetrates the stub completely and continues out the other side.

“At the moment of the most power in the throw, this finger—” he points to my middle finger, “—should point directly at the target. Don’t think of letting go, that will happen by itself.”

Gods, I’m worried about making a mistake and having the razor-sharp star take all my fingers off. But I don’t want him to think I’m a coward, so I clumsily pull my hand back and half-heartedly toss it forward.

The star spins to the left and barely misses Xark’on before it falls harmlessly to the ground six feet away.

“Ah,” Xark’on says after a moment of stunned disbelief. “Hm. Good try. Now try to point the middle at the target, not to the side.”

“I’ll never be able to do this,” I sigh and massage my throwing hand. “It’s too heavy, and I’m too afraid it will slice me.”

He retrieves the star. “Both are valid concerns. Try again.”

I reluctantly take the star from his hands. There are many other things I’d prefer to be doing right now. Most of them have to do with his cock.

Xark’on gently helps me again. “That finger there, this there. Throw a little harder. The star will spin faster and keep itself going straight.”

I do as he suggests and throw the star again. It wobbles through the air and misses the stub, but at least Xark’on didn’t have to duck.

“This is all very nice,” I say and sashay two steps up to him. “But can’t we practice something else? Up in the house?” I place my hand on his bulge and squeeze, fluttering my eyelashes. Which I’m sure would have been more impressive if they’d seen any mascara at all for the past nine months.

But it still works. My touch surprises Xark’on so much he drops the last throwing star, and his quick intake of breath tells me that I’ll get my way.

“What exactly is it that you’d like to practice?”

“Well, I know you’re an expert on holes. But did you know there are many ways to deal with them? Not just one or two?” I squeeze again, feeling the hardening outline of his manhood.

“I do enjoy holes,” he admits. “And I’d like to learn as much as possible about them. Especially what you called fucking. That was a most interesting topic I’d like to study further.” His cock is straining against the skin of his pants. And my pussy is probably dripping again.

“Then let’s practice this later and do something more important now?” I stroke his hardness outside his pants and feel it twitch.

Am I being mean to him? I’m using feminine wiles on a man who’s never met a woman before, and it’s pretty unfair. But my need is pretty urgent. And now his is too. I’ll consider the ethical sides of this later.

We go up the rope, Xark’on first and me last.