- Caroline -

We take a final look at the trap. The whole site is completely indistinguishable from any other spot in the jungle. The dragon will be subtly led to the trap by the terrain that Xark’on carefully changed in the days when I was spying on him. It seems like years ago.

“I think it’s going to work,” I say and squeeze Xark’on’s hand. “Now all we need is some bait.”

“Yes,” Xark’on says tightly, and his face darkens. He’s been weird all day since he went to his tribe and came back early this morning. Quiet and deep in thought.

He came back with a new dress for me, white and soft and extremely smooth. It reminds me of extremely fine leather. The dress fit me okay, a little loose here and there maybe. But I showed my ecstatic happiness and threw myself around his neck, shedding tears of happiness. It’s one of the finest pieces of clothing I’ve seen on this planet.

I squeeze his hand. “Can you tell me your secret plan now?”

He sighs heavily. “Not here and now. Back at the house.”

“Oooh-kay. Do you maybe not have a plan for the bait? I’m sure we can come up with something.”

He takes my hand without a word, and we walk to the pond in silence. Our cleaning up routine is a lot less fun today. It’s as if something has happened inside Xark’on, and he’s not the cheerful caveman I know and love.

Heck, he’s only a man. He’s entitled to his mood swings, just like I am. But if this continues all night then the thing I was going to tell him will have to wait.

We trudge back to the tree house, no longer holding hands. It’s cute, I guess. Our first fight.

When we get to the tree house, the rope is gone, and the counterweight rock hangs overhead.

Xark’on’s face gets even darker. Then he draws a mighty breath and lays his head back, and I instinctively hold my hands over my ears.

“Xark’on demands entrance!” he yells, so my chest trembles with the bass tones.

Soon after, the rope comes dangling down and the rock goes up. He checks the hammer in his belt. “I’ll go up. You stay here.” He looks around quickly. “And hide. Get out of sight.”

Okay, now I’m scared. “What’s going on, Xark’on?”

But he’s already climbing the rope like before.

So I’m supposed to hide. Somehow, I don’t think that’s a bad idea.

I find a suitable bush and get down behind it so I can still see the tree.

I hunker down and wait, just listening to the sounds of the jungle, hoping to hear what’s going on up in the tree house. I can only assume it’s more men from Xark’on’s tribe up there. They may be wondering how far he’s come with the trap. And they’re afraid of coming to the trap site now since he told them to only go there if invited.

Then why didn’t he just tell them last night when he went to the village?

I’m getting more tense with every second that goes by. I don’t think Xark’on being gone for a long time is a good sign. He’s always nervous when I’m down here by myself, and if everything up there in the tree house was okay, he’d come down here to get me immediately.

Shit, he’s been in a weird mood today. Quiet and short-tempered. Which is weird on the day when we finally finished the trap. You’d think he’d be really happy.

Maybe it’s the thing about the bait. Maybe he really doesn’t know what it should—

There’s a roar from up there, suddenly cut off.

I freeze. That sounded a lot like Xark’on. What the hell is going on up there?

Then, the rope starts dangling, and then someone is crashing down through the treetops around the huge trunk.

It’s not Xark’on. It’s the young man who came to see the trap many days ago. Yru’zan, I think his name is. And he’s followed by two others. Yru’zan has a sword, and the two others have spears with iron tips. They all have green stripes so clearly are Xark’on’s tribesmen.

I clench my own spear in my hand and duck down behind the bush, waiting for Xark’on to come down there on the heels of the others. But he doesn’t.

The three men are on the ground, and Yru’zan yells, “Where is she, Prun’tax?”

Then, a caveman stands up from behind a bush right next to me, so close I could have reached out and touched him.

I yelp and fall backwards from the shock then get to my feet and run.

“There!” He points to me then jumps on me, grabbing my upper arm. I flail wildly with my spear, which I’m still clutching, and I can feel it hit something.

The caveman lets go, and then I’m running wildly through the jungle, branches and bushes whipping around me as I try to find my way through the dense underbrush.

And the cavemen are coming after me, crashing through the bushes and getting closer fast. One of them reaches for me, and I jump to the side, but then I realize that this can’t work. I stop abruptly and hold my spear out in front of me. The first caveman is still running when he sees that sharpened dactyl tooth pointing right at him and drops to the ground to avoid it. But the next one just grabs the shaft, easily yanks it out of my hands, and tosses it away. I try to run again, but now he grabs me with both hands, holding me so tightly I can’t move. The cavemen tie my hands behind my back then turn me around.

Four large caveman are staring down at me.

“What are you doing?” I cry. “Xark’on will kill you for this!”

“The voice,” one of the men marvels at last. “So thin! And yet, it is a fully grown woman.”

“That chest... Just like the shaman’s doll! But larger.”

“There are no stripes!”

“The face is so round!”

“The hips... Did you see how she runs? The hips are so wide!”

“Turn her around, Yru’zan. Let’s see the other side.”

I’m forcibly turned around.

“So round!”

“The legs... so smooth!”

“Yru’zan... the slit. Show us the slit.”

I’m turned back. And now I’m resisting with all my might, kicking and yanking and hissing. “You let me go! Xark’on be very angry!” I’m even forgetting my cavemanese grammar, I’m so panicked.

Yru’zan grabs the hem of my new white dress and lifts it up to my waist then stands back.

And all four cavemen stare at my crotch with large eyes and dropping jaws.

I turn away, or try to, but I’m being held very securely.

“Xaarrkk’oooooon!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Xark’ooooon!”

“Yru’zan,” one of the men says. “That slit... It can be mated with.”

I yank and spit and hiss, but it’s as if I’m not even alive for all the reactions it gets me.

“It can,” Yru’zan says, and I can’t help noticing the bulge in his loose-fitting pants.

“Can... Can we?” the other man asks, uncertain but eager.

Yru'zan rubs his bulge and grins with stained teeth. “Why not? Me first.”

Another caveman comes through the jungle. It's Chief Roti'ax, who came to see Xark’on’s hole.

“No, no,” he says, with a hint of command in his voice. “There shall be no mating with that woman. She’s sent by the Ancestors. To Xark’on, not to any of us. We will do what he says, and then we’ll all have women to mate with. Today even. This one has a very specific purpose. We must do nothing to risk it before the Treasure is ours.” He holds up a net of the same type that Xark’on used to trap me that first day. “Let’s go now.”

“Xaaaark’ooooon!” I scream, losing hope that he’s coming. That Roti’ax guy is so calm.

Do what he says? Are these guys doing this because Xark’on told them to? No, ridiculous. He’d never allow this.

Yru’zan reluctantly lets go of my dress, and then I’m being dragged off. Not to the tree house but towards the trap.

I drag my feet, but it’s better to walk by myself than to be carried on someone’s back. Unless it’s Xark’on’s.

Shit! What’s going on here?

“Where are you taking me?”

“To your purpose,” Roti’ax says, walking beside me while Yru’zan drags me along. “Xark’on’s trap is wonderful, but it’s incomplete. Troga will surely die when she falls in it, but something will have to lure her out of her trench and over the hole. Something very tempting.”

“Bait,” I state with a voice that trembles.

“Yes. And not just anything will do. It has to be special bait. For Troga and the special Treasure she’s guarding in her domain. It’s obvious to anyone what that bait has to be.” He looks me up and down.

Yeah, I get it. The bait is me.

“Xaaark’oooon!” I yell again with a voice that going sore. But I want him to know that I need him. If he’s still alive...

The thought sends icy knives to my stomach. Could they have killed him up there in the tree house? “Where is Xark’on?”

“He’s where he’s supposed to be,” Roti’ax says calmly. “Don’t worry. You’ll fulfill your purpose. Soon. There’s no reason to wait.”

“Did Xark’on tell you to do this?”

“Xark’on needed some help with the last part of his plan. He had developed too strong feelings for the bait, it seems. Well, he’s only a tribesman with a simple mind. And you are quite alluring, which I think it is very appropriate for bait to be. So he can’t do this last part himself. That is no problem. He has done enough. He will always be revered as the greatest hero of our tribe. And I’m sure he’ll greatly enjoy his own part of the Treasure.”

“Is he dead?”

“Dead? Holy Ancestors, of course not. No, he’s awaiting the Treasure as eagerly as any of us. If not more so. He’s very strong and energetic in everything he does. He’s the one who discovered the Treasure, and it fired him up so much he started work on the trap immediately. He claimed to have been given a sign from the Ancestors to rid us of Troga and make the Treasure available to the tribe. He never told us what that sign was, but these things are known to happen. Indeed the sign was confirmed when he was discovered to be in the company of a woman while digging his trap. We in the tribe were perhaps somewhat skeptical before we discovered you. But then it was clear. The Ancestors had given him the bait he needed. And he knew it.”

Fuck. This sounds really fucking bad. These guys will use me as bait for the dragon. On Xark’on’s instructions, sounds like.

Shit. Was he planning this all along? Did he intend to use me as bait from the start? And then all through everything we did together? Did he know all along that when the trap was ready, he’d dangle me in front of Troga to lure her into his trap?

The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. He was so weird today, as if he knew that this was going to happen.

But then... all those nice things he did for me. His appreciation for what I did for him. Being so touched about the blue paint. Being so concerned about my safety. Those gentle touches and sniffing my hair and bringing me out of my shell. Joking with me and taking me into his confidence. Was it all an act? Did he see me as totally expendable, a convenient cum dump for him while he was working on the trap that would be my death?

Acid tears are burning in my eyes. He watched me help him make that trap...

No, no. This isn’t the time for that. I’m about to be sacrificed to a fucking dragon. And I’m not even a virgin.

I try the strings that bind my hands. They’re not too tight. These guys were pretty stunned about being around an actual woman, and I can only assume they got lax. Not that it helps me much. They’re still holding my hands together, and I’m surrounded by cavemen that tower over me and could catch me in two seconds if I somehow manage to escape.

“You can’t do this,” I try, panic starting to grow. “I wasn’t given by any Ancestors. I’m a person. It’s murder if you do this to me.”

“We won’t kill you,” Roti’ax says. “Troga will.” He’s completely unconcerned, even excited.

So are the other cavemen, visibly so. Their bulges are nowhere near as large as Xark’on’s was though.

Where is he now? Sitting safely in the tree house, letting his friends do the dirty job of giving me to Troga to burn? He didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face.

Not that it would have made this any better. He’s clearly betrayed me, and now he’s waiting for this mysterious Treasure.

I remember some of the things he said to me. ‘Things will get better for my tribe.’ Or something like that. I should have asked what that meant. I should have asked a lot of questions. But I trusted him.

And I loved him.

I thought he loved me too.

He must have. When he called my 'my love', he probably meant it.

And then the next moment, he couldn’t wait to give me to Troga.

We’re getting closer to the trap site, and I have to fight myself to not break down in tears. What will the dragon do to me? Will she cruelly toy with me? Burn me a little at a time from a distance?

Maybe she’ll come right for me and fall into the trap before she can hurt me at all.

It’s a thin hope to pin my continued life on. But it’s all I have.

And then? If I miraculously survive the trap?

No, I can’t think that far.

And before I can assemble my stunned thoughts into any kind of actual plan, we’re there.

It looks like any patch of random land in the jungle. But to the right is one end of Troga’s trench, and straight ahead is the trap.

I won’t say anything. Maybe these guys will walk right into it. Only Xark’on and I could find it now.

“Xark’on forbade us from coming here again,” Roti’ax suddenly says, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “But we did. We didn’t want to anger him, so we stayed out of view. Just to see how far he’d come. The trap is if great importance to the entire tribe. We couldn’t leave all of it to just one man.”

“He did all the work,” I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling. I should have known that the strange rustling sounds I heard sometimes was someone spying on us while we worked.

“Yes, yes. He insisted that the sign had been given to him. Well, then he must do it all, we decided. That must be the Ancestors’ plan. And were we not right? He dug this hole with remarkable speed. Even for him.”

Because of the shovel I showed him how to make.

The men stop right at the edge of the trap.

“Ah,” Roti’ax says. “That tree is perfectly placed. He really chose this spot extremely well.”

They get out a rope and hang it from high up in the tree. The tree has branches almost all the way to the ground, and they will disguise the rope from the dragon. Only what hangs from it will be visible.

“You can’t do this,” I try again, and now there are tears too. “The dragon will burn me.”

“She has burned so many of our tribesmen,” Roti’ax says, his eyes big and glassy with excitement. “You will be the last to be burned. And then the tribe gets the Treasure.”

He unfolds the net he’s been carrying. “Put her in here. No, loosen her hands. We want her to be able to wave her arms. The monster must see that she’s alive.”

They untie my hands, and one of them holds the net open. If I get in there, everything is over.

I suddenly explode with kicks and writhing, flailing wildly with all my limbs and my head and everything. The panic gives me strength. And for a split second, nobody’s holding me.

I duck under grabbing hands then sprint as fast as I can through the opening I spot. I narrowly avoid another arm then just run wildly, faster than I ever have.

I know at the back of my mind that I have no chance. Their legs are long and powerful. They will catch me soon.

I hear running feet behind me, but I don’t turn around. I’ll just run as fast as I can. It doesn’t matter where.

Then, I’m over the ridge, and in front of me is Troga’s trench.

Fuck these loser cavemen and their trap.

I run right over the edge of the dragon’s glass trench. I immediately lose my footing on the slippery glass and slide on my butt down to the bottom. Then, I just keep sliding. My new dress feels like it has no friction at all against the glass, so I slide up the other side of the trench like a snowboarder in a halfpipe. And that side must be lower because my speed carries me almost all the way up to the edge.

In a flash I realize that this is the only chance I’ll get. I throw my arms as high up as I can fling them, throwing my chest so hard against the glass my teeth rattle. Both my hands are just able to catch the smooth edge of the trench. I can feel the rough surface of hard rock beyond with my fingertips.

That’s all I have and all I’ll ever have. Nobody’s ever escaped the trench alive. If I let go now, I’m dead.

Practicing with the throwing stars every day for weeks, at Xark’on’s insistence, has made my fingers strong. Very strong. And so are my arms after ten months on a jurassic planet. I can do this.

I mobilize all my strength in my shoulders and my back and my arms and my fingers. Then, I hoist myself up against the glass just to where I can throw one leg over the edge.

My foot catches on the edge of the trench, and I painfully slowly work the rest of my body up while all my muscles scream in protest.

Then I’m up.

I crawl fast away from the edge then collapse on the rocks, breathing hard.

On the other side, the cavemen kidnappers are just staring in disbelief.

“Fuck you,” I wheeze.

But they’re thirty feet away. They can’t hear that.

I get to my feet still panting hard. I’m shot. But this has to be done.

I breathe deeply a few times. Then I fill my lungs.

“Fuuuck youuuuu!” I scream as loudly as I can. In English, of course. Cavemanese just won’t do here. I’m aware that I’m not really addressing the five confused caveman on the other side, but a different one, further away.

I gradually catch my breath. I’m on the other side of the trench from the cavemen. They can’t get to me without risking their lives. If it was someone like Xark’on, I couldn’t have felt too safe. But these cowards? No chance.

Full of contempt, I turn my back to those green-striped losers and walk into the jungle.

- - -

I walk fast, always being on guard like Xark’on was. I’m pretty satisfied about escaping from those kidnappers back there. The old Caroline wouldn’t have done any of those things. She would have let the hopelessness overwhelm her and just let things happen.

Suicide was a constant shadow over my life back home during my depressions. Except it wasn’t a shadow. It was a bright opening, an emergency exit that I was sometimes tempted to take when the darkness got too dark. Twice I was hospitalized after an attempt,

But I just used all my willpower and all my physical strength to save my own life. Even now, even having been betrayed by the only man I’ve ever loved. And I know that I’ll never try to kill myself again. It would mean that those losers back there won.

This planet is tough. It forces you to confront yourself. And it burns your issues out of you. It’s a tough cure that just might kill you. But if you make it, you’ll never struggle with the same things again.

As I walk, the triumph fades and the disappointment grows. There isn’t even any use in asking why. It’s too obvious. He thought I was sent by his gods to use for his trap. And he enjoyed himself a lot, fucking me every day after having worked for hours on building the machine of my execution.

I shudder. Can he have been that evil? Is he insane? I mean, there has to be an element of psychopathy in anyone who could do that. Happily living with me like a happy couple while all the while quietly preparing to kill me in a way that would be pretty damn bad.

His eyes when held me. His nose in my hair. His shy little kisses. His gentle caresses at random times. Was it all an act?

It must have been. Unless he had a seriously split personality. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t.

I try to empty my head of thought as I walk along Troga’s trench, keeping a good distance to it. It shines like ghostly crystal in the light from the moon Yrf. I have a vague impression that it makes occasional tight turns through the terrain, but I have no idea where I am now or even in which direction I’m being led by the trench. I don’t even know where I’d want to go if I could choose.

The cave, of course. But dammit, coming home there and telling my story, which only ends with betrayal and failure... It wouldn’t be much fun. Sure, the girls would support me like they always do. Still, to talk about how I spent weeks with a man who was all the while plotting to kill me... It’s hard for anyone to know how to support me then. It’s a little too big for me to talk about yet.

Of course, I have no idea if I can ever go back to the cave. There’s no chance I’m ever going down in that trench again, and as far as I know, it separates me from the cave now.

So, I’m walking blindly through a jungle that’s full of huge dinosaurs, most of them very interested in tasting Earth chicks.

Though I have a distinct impression that there are much fewer dinosaurs this close to the dragon’s trench. They probably have the sense to stay away from Troga. After all, she’s just as alien here as I am. And a lot more dangerous.

I walk all night, letting the trench decide where. I sniffle a little once in a while, but the full weight of Xark’on’s betrayal hasn’t hit me yet. When it does, it’ll get bad. I know that much.

The sun is rising, and I get the feeling I’ve walked here before. Very recently. Earlier tonight, in fact. Just a few hours ago.

I’m walking in circles. The trench has made many turns, and I’ve been deep in thought.

Ah. I must be in that star shape, the one I saw from the tree house when the sun was the exact angle over the horizon to throw the shadows just so that the outline was visible for a few seconds. Yes, it makes sense that jumping over the trench right back at the cave would land me out on one of the thin points of the star. And now I’ve walked all around it many times, maybe.

No, I decide after looking back from where I came. It’s only been once. It’s a big star. Because now, I’m right across from the trap site. That’s why I recognize it. But the cavemen are gone.

So here I am, stranded in the middle of the dragon’s trench system.

In the place where there’s supposed to be a treasure.

Fine. I might as well walk towards the middle of the star and see what there might be to discover. I can only hope there’s water and food somewhere here, because if not, I’m probably just as dead as if Troga had found me in the trench.

I walk straight into the jungle from the trench, listening for running water.

And it doesn’t take long before I hear it. A gentle clucking that turns out to be a babbling brook, glinting in the light from the rising sun.

I squat down and drink, using one hand as a cup.

Then, I see a moving shadow right next to me. I jerk from surprise and almost fall into the water before I whirl around, grabbing for a rock from the creek to defend myself with.

I freeze.

It’s a woman.

She lifts her right hand nervously.

“Hi,” she says.

In English.