by Calista Skye
He follows my finger. “Aurora is not The Woman.”
I take a deep breath. “Probably not.”
Those laser eyes bore smoking holes in my head, feels like. I have to look away.
Then he reaches out and lifts my chin, and I'm looking at the sexiest smirk I've ever seen.
“Good.”
20
- Trak'zor -
She tensed up in the most adorable way, but I've come to terms with the fact that she's not The Woman from the Prophecy. That Woman is to be sent from the Ancestors to see if the tribe is doing well and to give the other women back to us. But Aurora is too human and too alive to be a divine messenger.
Now she visibly relaxes, and a big smile spreads on her face. For a second it makes me doubt. With a face like that, with teeth that white and even, with eyes in that dark color that I've never seen on anyone before, with those heart-achingly wonderful little dimples in her cheeks – does she come from the Ancestors after all?
No, of course not. Which divine being would smile in the first place?
She comes in close to embrace me, sniffling a little. “Thank you,” she whispers. “You knew not The Woman?”
“Yes.”
She looks up at me with moisture in her eyes, but also with a wry smile as she playfully slaps my chest. “Could have told. I much nervous!”
“See? The Woman would never be nervous.”
“You not disappointed?”
My first impulse is to laugh, because I've never been less disappointed in my life. But I rein it in. “I'm not. I have a feeling the Woman would never show the secrets that you have shown.”
And of course The Woman would insist on fulfilling the prophecy and bring the women back to the tribe. Aurora has no such power. Only I have a woman. The tribe never will.
She squeezes me with her slender arms, and I grin into the sun. The future is looking very bright. Aurora and I on the island I have prepared so well. Just the two of us. Forever.
I kiss her mysteriously dark hair, relishing the scent of her. “I'm curious about your raft. Let's finish it as soon as we can.”
21
- Aurora -
“Let's.”
I kiss his cheek once, because if I do anything more passionate than that, the lust will overwhelm me and I'll jump his bones and we'll just fuck the day away. There are many more things to talk about, but the toughest topic is done and I'm totally relieved.
Together we place the logs the way I've imagined, except that Trak'zor modifies it so that the thickest logs are at the outer sides and the thinnest ones in the center. Then we place another, slightly narrower layer on top of the first one.
When we're done, the setup looks fine to me. The raft will be wide enough to be stable and to hold both of us. I hope.
And that's all the work we do on the raft for one day. Trak'zor has to do some hunting and general household upkeep while the sun is still up, and I have to do some fishing.
- - -
A few days pass. In the mornings we spend a couple of hours building the raft, and then we do all the work-intensive things that are necessary for keeping our little household alive. In the evenings we eat dinner under the stars while the fire crackles in front of us, and then we go into the house and make love before we sleep soundly until the next morning.
It's a simple life, and I suppose it's not all that different from the one I had back at the cave. Except here I feel safe, I'm getting laid like bricks and I have a huge, strong and extraordinary caveman to myself.
Yeah, fine. It's completely different from back at the cave.
I sometimes find myself wondering how the girls are doing. They're worried about me, of course. I really should do my best to get home. Sophia's due date is getting pretty close, too.
The raft comes along slowly, but surely. We're tying the logs firmly together with the vines. I slide them between the logs with my slender hands, and Trak'zor finally tightens the bindings as hard as he can, pulling on the knots until he grunts.
We work mostly in silence, both concentrating. Whenever Trak'zor passes behind me he'll caress me, sliding a hand along my shoulder or my back or my hips. His hand feels wonderful on my skin, just perfect. His sheer presence makes it hard for me to miss my previous life, and I find myself looking less to the future. My life now is simple, but it turns out that I have everything I need, even so.
I sometimes think to myself how was I able to live without these things?
For the first time in probably years, I'm truly happy.
- - -
After a couple of false starts where we gain valuable experience with how not to make a raft, one morning we realize that we're almost done, so we spend all day on it. In the afternoon we finish up the construction and tie the last loose vine securely to the thin log in the middle.
I get up onto the raft and try the stiffness. With Trak'zor's strength in pulling everything tight, this has to be the stiffest, firmest raft in existence anywhere.
And it's not the only stiff thing around. My caveman has been sporting a very naughty bulge in his loincloth, and now I just can't take it anymore.
“Trak'zor.”
“Aurora.”
“I think we're done. When you build a boat, is important name it. Must have a name. But we not have champagne bottle to smash against bow. Much sad. So we must use other way. Is nice also.”
I slide off my dino skin skirt and lie down on the edge of the raft with my feet on the ground, spreading lewdly for him.
He takes me in. “I was hoping there would be a ceremony of some kind.”
His gaze feels like a physical touch on my most sensitive skin, and I swear the bulge in his loincloth twitches.
He lifts his loincloth and kneels between my legs, taking in my dripping pussy. He bends down and kisses it, and the touch makes my whole body jerk uncontrollably.
But I want more than that. “Spear,” I moan. “Use Trak'zor big spear.”
He places the tip of his massive cock at my opening, wetting it with my juices. Then he looks into my eyes and pushes it in.
“Aaaaaahhhhhhyeahhhhhhhhhh,” I cry as his manhood invades my sex again, pushing into me with a power I love to feel. As always his cock fills my mind and my body to the point of bursting.
He's getting the hang of this, and now he knows I can take it in just about any position. This time I guess he wants it hard and fast, because there's no gradual speeding up. He just fills me once, plunges back in and continues to pound me.
I've been horny all day, and finally getting my caveman's cock in me, with all the insane bulges and rings and I don't know what else, just plunges me into a pool of bliss right away. Now I know what he's capable of, I lose track of it and just go with the flow he's released in me.
This caveman, this guy with the fangs and the stripes and the immense strength ...
We come together, as always. My screams reverberate from the cliff, drowning out the waterfall.
I slowly roll off the raft, my limbs still prickly and weak after the climax. How the hell does he make me feel like this?
I get to my feet and pull my clothes back on. “Ceremony complete. We launch raft.”
I'm more excited than I've been for my whole time on this planet. If the raft floats the way I think it will, and if the monsters in the lake really don't want to break the surface, then we can do some exploration safely.
I try to lift the raft, but even if the logs are individually pretty light, all of them together are much too heavy.
But of course Trak'zor lifts the whole thing and practically flings it onto the lake.
It floats. Very high in the water, even. I'm pretty sure it'll be able to easily hold both Trak'zor and me.
“We forgot give name,” I realize. “What we call it?”
He shrugs. “You know more about rafts than I do. What is a good name for a raft?”
I scratch my head. The first thing that crosses my mind is Titanic, but I don't think that
would be a good idea. What do people call their boats? My brother is in the navy, and he serves on an aircraft carrier called the Gerald Ford. No, that doesn't work. The Love Boat? The Mayflower? The Nostromo? The Millennium Falcon?
“Let's call it the Gabrielle,” I finally decide. “She was cool.”
“Gariel,” Trak'zor repeats. “Very alien.”
Again I'm suddenly filled with a wave of real happiness. It happens a lot these days. I'm safe on this island. Trak'zor is fine with me not being the mythical Woman. We've completed this project together and we'll be able to explore that mysterious island.
I've been able to devote my mind to something other than being scared stiff for just a few days now, and it's like I'm suddenly discovering that this planet can be something other than just a source of grief and longing. It can be something better.
I embrace Trak'zor again, but then I feel his whole body stiffen in my arms.
I look up at his face.
But he's not looking at me. He's looking past me with blue fire in his eyes. His jaw is clenched so hard I can hear it creak.
I whirl around, then zip behind Trak'zor's back, peering out from behind him.
There's a man on the other shore. A caveman with white stripes and a long, raggedy-looking loincloth.
The first thing that crosses my mind is how long has he been standing there? Because if it's longer than a few minutes, he got a good eyeful of woman while Trak'zor was fucking me. And unless he's deaf, he definitely will have heard my blissful screams. I climax very loudly with this guy.
“Trak'zor!” the man calls, a thin voice over the roar of the waterfall. “You are needed!”
Trak'zor doesn't move, but his body is as tense as a bowstring.
“The tribe needs you!” the other man tries again. “The Lifegivers. There is a problem.”
If you've never heard a caveman swear, it's not something I recommend seeking out. The word that escapes Trak'zor's mouth is not too ugly, but the intensity and the genuine emotion behind it makes a wave of ice slide down my back. This is bad.
Trak'zor pulls the raft back to the shore and onto the rocks on the stony beach. Then he lifts the huge tree trunk back and throws it down across the deep sound between the island and the mainland.
“Aurora stay,” he growls without looking at me. “I'll be back.”
I see no point in disagreeing. Trak'zor walks across the 'bridge' and over to the other man.
The newcomer is smiling, but Trak'zor looks like a thundercloud.
I can't hear their conversation over the waterfall, but the other man seems to be talking a lot, using small hand movements. Trak'zor is just staring and doesn't seem to say much.
I can only assume that they both come from the same tribe. Still the differences between them strike me more than the similarities. Sure, they both have white stripes on their torsos. But Trak'zor's are brighter and more vivid, while his tribesman's stripes are faded and even grayish. Trak'zor is larger, too, with much more muscle everywhere. But the biggest difference is their body language. Trak'zor may be angry, but he's still confident and composed, while the other man seems to not be able to look him in the eyes and appears to be cowering.
I'm starting to realize that Trak'zor was telling the truth about not being cast out. If he were really an outcast, then surely the tribe who'd cast him out would never come to him for help?
Trak'zor abruptly turns his back on the man and balances back across the 'bridge'. He pulls the tree trunk in so there's a gap between it and the other shore, then comes over to me and grabs my wrist, pulling me with him.
“Hey!” I protest.
He doesn't respond, just drags me with him up to the house. He lets me go and starts rummaging around with abrupt, angry movements, packing items into his large leather sack.
I don't like to see him like this. “What's going on? Something about the Lifegivers?”
He throws his bag over one shoulder, then finally directs his attention to me.
“I have to go. I will be back. Two days at the most.”
“Are you leaving me here?”
“I will be back.”
I don't have time to think, but something inside me makes me feel that I should go with him. “If you go, I not be here when you return.”
He frowns. “You will leave?”
“I don't want be here alone,” I state, and it's true enough. “The island dangerous when you not here.”
He ponders for a moment, and I prepare for losing this argument pretty hard, because I'm not sure my willpower can really match his and he can always tie me to a post right here in the house.
Then he gives me a strange little smile. “Very well. Aurora come.”
It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that he agreed. Then I get my quiver with the one arrow, and I'm ready.
We walk together down the hill and across the bridge. Trak'zor pulls the tree back and drags it into the woods, and then we start walking into the jungle, completely ignoring the other caveman who's still waiting.
I throw a last glance over at the island. The raft Gabrielle is on the beach, looking forlorn and abandoned.
And I'm on the way to Trak'zor's tribe.
- - -
The fear of the jungle hits me again with full force, and in a flash I realize that it's not just fear; I hate it.
The lack of a weapon is getting to me. I have Trak'zor to protect me, of course, and maybe that other caveman is better with his sword than he looks. Still I itch to cut down a sapling and turn it into a bow. But we're walking fast, and we have to keep quiet. Being distracted in the jungle can kill us all.
I sneak glances at the other man. He's older than Trak'zor by maybe ten years. Still he's not in as good a shape, and he looks dishevelled, if that's something that you could ever say about cavemen who only wear loincloths.
He's sneaking glances at me too, except he's more blatant about it. I know I shouldn't blame him – I'm the first woman he's ever seen, and it's only natural to be curious. Still, I don't like his eyes on me. They have more than just curiosity in them.
I'm settling in for a long walk, but we've only been travelling for about two hours when we come to a wooden fence disguised as a natural hedge.
Trak'zor opens a hidden door and pulls me through, and the other man follows.
22
- Aurora -
Two other men come out of the shadows and exchange a couple of moderately friendly words with Trak'zor. And then we're in the village.
There are no caves that I can see, just cone-shaped huts that remind me of Native American teepees. There's probably about a hundred of them, and they're built on a gentle slope in the landscape, surrounded by a tall fence. Little wisps of gray smoke rise from fires in front of some of the huts. In the light from the setting sun, it looks peaceful and safe.
Some villagers come wandering out from their huts, looking at us. Or me, probably.
A pack of young boys come running.
“Trak'zor! Are you home now?”
“Will you stay?”
“Who is that?”
“Is that The Woman?”
“Will the women return now?”
“There's something wrong with the Lifegivers!”
“I skinned my knee, but it healed. Look!”
“Me and Bont'iax walked to the Tall Cliff! Alone! We didn't fall down!”
“There was a brak here! Outside the fence. The guards saw it!”
“I practiced with the sword! Look, Trak'zor!” The boy has a wooden stick that he thrusts into the air, then spins around and hacks at some imagined enemy.
“Nice,” Trak'zor says. “Now use a heavier stick. Thicker and longer. It will build your strength.”
He has been tense and furious for the whole walk here, but now the anger seems to evaporate as he ruffles the boys' hair, answers their rapid-fire questions as well as he can and praises their newfound skills. It's like watching a father return home to his kids from a long
business trip, except I doubt he can be the father of all these boys. I guess they just like him. I totally empathize.
He keeps a good grip around my wrist as we walk through the village. The adult men watch us very carefully, and because Trak'zor is one of those blessed guys who wear their hearts on their sleeves, it dawns on me why he was so willing to bring me along.
He's proud. Of me.
Well, he is the first man here who's seen a woman. And he's mated with her and made her fall for him. I'd say he's entitled to his pride a hundred times over. I don't mind him parading me in front of his buddies like a trophy right now. It even makes me feel honored. And important.
While he seems delighted with the attention from the boys, he doesn't as much as glance at the adult cavemen we pass.
But I do. And I'm not surprised to see that they're all less healthy-looking than he is. Their stripes are not as clear and their muscles not as well defined. Some of the older guys here even tend to fatness, with saggy pot bellies hanging out over their sparse garments.
Sophia, Emilia and Heidi did tell me that their men are clearly the best and strongest from their tribes, so I was kind of prepared for this. It looks like we Earth girls are getting the cream of the crop.
A man comes out of a larger hut and strides towards us with a dignity that tells everyone that he's in charge here. The chief, no doubt. Another man follows behind him as they halt in front of us.
“Trak'zor,” the dignified one says.
Trak'zor returns his gaze. “Messed up the Lifegivers again?”
“The Lifegivers are sometimes hard to deal with, and-”
“Only when you don't give them the care they need. They're very robust.”
The chief look away to not have to face Trak'zor's hard stare. “Be that as it may, one of them is in danger of failing.”
“Failing? You mean die from a lack of proper care, killing the unborn inside?”
“The reason is less important, it seems to me, and-”