- Caroline -

I have to stretch my neck to get a better view when he starts pulling on the rope to lift the boulder. That thing has to weigh ten times as much as him, and he is a giant of a man.

The huge tripod he's constructed creaks with the strain. Or maybe it's the rope. And the man himself isn't humming anymore.

“Come on,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

Somehow I really want him to succeed, this complete stranger I have been shamelessly stalking for weeks. But I've watched him do this, and in a way it's partly my project too now. Whatever it is. I want him to succeed spectacularly with everything he does.

He lets go of the rope and adjusts the frame a little. Then he grabs it again, takes a deep breath, and pulls. The boulder moves in its deep hole, but it's not coming up.

Again the caveman adjusts his pulley system and smears something greasy onto it.

Then he grabs the rope and uses all his power to pull on it. The muscles on his thighs look like they'll make his pants split as he leans forward to stem against the ground. A deep grunt reaches my ears,

and the boulder is slowly lifted out of its hole and up into the air. The caveman pulls another rope to swing it to the side while the whole contraption creaks dangerously, and then he lets go of both ropes. The boulder hits the ground with a deep thump, and I do a little fist pump behind my bush. He did it!

Suddenly I freeze. Something is wrong. A cold sweat erupts on my back—never a good sign.

I slowly turn my head.

There's something behind me. Something very alive and very big. Something that gives off a high-pitched, liquid growl.

I'm afraid to look at it. But I have to. I clutch my spear and turn.

The blood freezes in my veins, and I feel tears of terror starting to form. It’s a raptor.

As in velociraptor, the fast, nasty little dinosaurs that starred in the first Jurassic Park movie.

Of course they’re not that. These are alien dinos and completely different. But still, it reminds us of raptors.

It scares me is what I’m saying.

I point my spear at it, hoping it will just go away. I don't want the caveman to see me. At the same time, I don't want to be eaten by this thing. Hell, I don't want to be in the same universe as this thing.

It's just standing there, heaving and glistening. It has eyes on the sides of its head, but right now they’re not pointed at me. Maybe it only detects sound like a bat? Then maybe I can try to sneak away if I'm being really quiet.

I take one quiet step to the side, still bent over.

The monster turns a little to follow my movement. It must be able to see me after all.

Before I was dumped on this planet, this would have made me curl up and sob in fear. And I still want to do that. But after months living in a cave, seeing horrific monsters pretty much every day, I'm able to use a small fraction of my brain for cool calculation.

Okay, so it can see me somehow. But it hasn't attacked me. Maybe it's less dangerous than it looks? Maybe it's just as scared as I am, and it just wants to run away?

I take one very short step towards it and lift my spear.

The raptor tilts its head as if thinking what the fuck is that insane chick doing?

Then it attacks.

It pounces straight at me, claws in front like a wall of spikes.

I squeal and jump backwards into the bushes I've been hiding behind. But now the caveman worries me a lot less than the raptor.

I fall over into the bushes, but the dino is still coming at me, so I scramble through the undergrowth, making a whole lot of noise.

I spot the caveman looking up, and then I hear the raptor coming through the bushes, and I just run the easiest way, which is straight down the hill.

Everything is grass and weeds and tree trunks as I panic and run, not caring where as long as it's away from the monster.

From the corner of my eye, I see the caveman moving, but everything is blurry, so I can't see exactly what he's doing.

But I can hear a terrifying shriek from behind me. Very close behind me. The raptor is about to snag me with its needle-like claws.

Then I yelp as one of my feet snags on something and I trip forwards, dropping the spear and holding my hands out to break the fall.

But I never hit the ground.

There's a loud swish, and I feel like I'm being grabbed in a huge clutch that's squeezing the breath out of me.

And then I'm seeing everything from above through a wide mesh of rough fibers.

The raptor is below me, crouching on its powerful legs and then jumping straight up into the air, coming closer to me very fast.

Again I yelp and scramble wildly, but I'm being held very tightly, and I can hardly move.

Then the man throws his sledgehammer, spinning through the air. It hits the raptor right in the middle with a thud that makes my ears ring. It breaks the monster's jump and sends it somersaulting backwards like it's been shot with a cannonball.

The hammer falls to the ground, and the raptor looks dead.

Only then do I have time to consider my own situation.

I'm hanging in the air in a rough net of some kind, just like Han Solo and Princess Leia when they're caught by the cute teddy bears in Return of the Jedi.

Except their net was larger, not as tight as this. I can barely move my arms, and I have to concentrate on each breath to fill my lungs.

And I'm upside down. My lower body is above me, and I'm curled up with my knees down by my chin.

For a brief moment, I struggle to get more room, but the net doesn't give. Instead it feels like it tightens with each move I make.

I glance up and down. I'm at least twenty feet in the air, hanging from the top of a tree with one slender trunk and a wide crown high up, like a coconut palm.

Then I focus on the caveman.

He's looking up at me with his hands on his hips, not even bothering to retrieve his massive hammer.

I don't know what to do. Our introduction looks like it might be slightly awkward.

“Take down, please,” I suggest in his language. My voice sounds squeaky and shaky, and the fight-or-flight hormones are still flooding my veins.

He frowns up at me and then takes hold of a rope tied to the tree. For a moment I worry that he'll just open the bottom of the net making me fall down from here, so I grab onto the mesh as well as I can.

But all he does is lower me down until my shoulders are just a foot above the ground.

“All the way down, please,” I specify, looking up at him.

I've never been in a less dignified position. My ass is the highest point of my body, and I can only hope that my dinosaur-skin dress is hiding the most intimate parts of me. But I suspect it doesn't. If not, he's getting a whole eyeful of woman right now, frowning deeply at me from above.

His eyes are unusually dark but not brown. They look pitch black to me. Or maybe it's because all the blood is going to my head.

He squats down three feet away and just looks at me. Okay, so he has violet eyes, with an inner light in them just like the other cavemen I know. A deep violet light.

Fine. But I'm still hanging here, seeing him upside down. “Please let down.”

He studies me carefully, and his gaze pauses at my butt and crotch for a little longer than what I can handle without blushing even more. He's examining me like he would a nice sword or an interesting wall painting. Or prey.

And he's not saying anything. I know why, of course. You don't talk to prey. You kill it and eat it.

Or in this case, you rape it and breed it. If this guy is a raider or an outcast or a rogue, anything is on the table. And he has a hungry look. I don't think their beliefs about the sacred Woman will keep him from taking his pleasure from me if he so chooses.

Still, he's studying me. I'm starting to feel like an insect on a lab bench.

Then he reaches out and pulls on a thin line attached to the net, the bottom gives out, and I drop to the grass.

“Oof. Could have let me a little further down first,” I complain as I rub my shoulder. The ground isn't that hard, and I didn’t break anything, but still.

I glance over at the raptor who's now just a large bundle of claws and teeth on the ground. But it's still moving a little, so I guess this guy didn't kill it completely.