Caveman Alien’s Claim

by Calista Skye

  I get a spear and a container of water and walk into the jungle in a random direction.

  Our activities have chased away a lot of the wildlife. The girls complain that they have to go further to find animals to hunt. But the upside is that the dinosaurs are staying away, too. Except for the largest ones, who don’t care where they walk. Sometimes one of them will lumber past in the woods somewhere, making the ground tremble and snapping trees off at the root like thin matches. But they are rare to see.

  The jungle is humid in the afternoon, and large, sticky drops of moisture drip onto me from the trees. It’s hot, too, and I’m soon covered in a thin sheet of sweat.

  Still, I’m enjoying this. Just walking in any direction I want, with no terrifying dragon-made trench to stop me. I take long strides and almost feel like singing or whistling as I go. But making noise is probably not a good idea. This is still a jungle, and there are still predatory dinos here.

  I walk for a good while before I hear much noise from the undergrowth. I’m not sure I should start my zoological efforts by studying small animals that probably can’t be used for food, but I have to begin somewhere.

  I take up station by the thick trunk of a tree, take a swig of water, and just stand still, trying to seem like a part of the scenery.

  The sun shines through the canopy of leaves, and not much light reaches down here. There aren’t many bushes, just low and dense ones.

  It suddenly dawns on me that he must have come this way, that caveman with the burn. I suppose the direction I picked into the jungle maybe wasn’t completely random after all. Not that I have any chance of catching up with him, of course. It’s been hours. But some subconscious part of me is here to look for him.

  Shit, what would it feel like to have half your face burned like that? Not only the pain when it happened, but then looking like that for the rest of your life? Even for a caveman on a planet with only other men to see his face, that has to be a difficult thing to handle. Especially if he got burned at a young age.

  Well, his injury didn’t seem to make him any less strong or proud. I wonder why the men in our tribe didn’t want him as part of the budding army they’re putting together. There must have been something else they didn’t say—

  I stiffen. Something big is coming through the underbrush. Slowly and noisily.

  I grab the spear harder and try to shrink into the trunk of the tree behind me. Some of the dinosaurs here are like raptors, and they run fast.

  I stand frozen while my heartbeat thunders in my ears and the sounds come closer. There is a loud sound of snorting, like from a pig. Could it be a turkeypig, one of our main staple foods? But they don’t make that sound, they just go gobbleoink pretty softly.

  I slowly lift the spear, ready to thrust it into whatever comes out of the bushes.

  The leaves rustle, and the branches part. A large animal comes calmly trundling out of the jungle. It doesn’t even look like a dinosaur. It has short, brown fur and eight legs. Its body is long and round, and it looks most of all like some kind of double cow. Even the head has a cow-like quality, except it has only one huge eye and a much longer snout than any cow I’ve seen. It looks completely peaceful, except for the one long horn that grows out of its forehead and would remind me of a unicorn if it didn’t have a strange, downward curve to it.

  Nothing about the wildlife should surprise me on this alien planet. But a unicow? I feel my jaw hanging open. I’ve never heard anyone talk about things like this. And it is the kind of animal you would talk about. Definitely.

  The thing walks calmly past me and doesn’t even throw me a glance. As it passes by just a couple of feet away, I see that its cow-like appearance even includes two heavy udders that dangle under it as it makes its way in among the trees.

  Udders mean milk. And cows mean meat that is not from turkeypig or not-sheep. Unlike many zoologists, I’m not a vegetarian and will happily eat a good steak. But of course, I hadn’t graduated before I was abducted, so maybe that’s the kind of thing you decide on the spot when you’re holding your diploma.

  But degree or not, that creature looks like something that could be very useful for my tribe. If there are more of these things, we can maybe catch them and keep them in a barn and milk them and everything. And maybe turn them into beef. In the kindest possible way, of course.

  Yep, this is definitely a job for me.

  I look around to see if there are any more creatures coming, then stalk after the unicow into the jungle.

  - - -

  I keep a little bit of distance between us. It’s probably not necessary, because the unicow doesn’t seem interested in me at all and never turns its head. It has a short tail and thinner legs than most cows, but with eight of them it won’t be a problem carrying its weight.

  It snorts and grunts and sometimes stops to take a big mouthful of a clump of leaves, then chews loudly as it continues on its way. A part of me wonders why it exists at all. Wouldn’t it be extremely dangerous for such a meaty thing to walk around in the jungle all by itself, with only a drooping horn for protection?

  The sun is getting closer to the horizon, and if I want to get home to the tribe before it gets dark, I should turn around now. But there’s no knowing if and when I’ll ever spot a unicow again. It would be such a pity if I’d have to give up on following it to its herd. If it has one.

  For a long time, it shows no signs of even considering to stop or take a break.

  I’m seriously thinking of giving up and going home when the unicow suddenly stops in its tracks. I almost walk right into its butt, but manage to halt myself before I make contact.

  I can’t hear anything unusual, but the unicow probably can. Its single ear on top of the head is rotating like a satellite dish.

  Then all hell breaks loose as a pack of raptors suddenly crash out of the jungle and pounce on the unicow from three sides. Which means that they are also pouncing on me, because I’m pretty much within arm’s reach of the unicow.

  Thankfully, none of them are coming from behind, or I would be dead.

  I instinctively throw myself away from the carnage and down onto the ground, but I’m still splattered as the attack turns into a freaking explosion of blood and gore.

  Raptor gore, I realize as I draw back and try to hide under a bush. The slivers of meat are cold, like they would be in a cold-blooded dinosaur.

  It’s hard to tell what exactly is going on. The unicow is in the middle of a tornado of teeth and claws and spikes and I don’t know what else.

  Ah, yes. Spikes. The raptors don’t have those.

  But the unicow does. Thousands of foot-long spikes have shot out from its body and pierced at least two of the raptors so badly they’re just hanging motionless from the creature’s sides. One more is limping away with many broken-off spikes sticking out of its side, while the two that are left seem to be fighting more to get away than to continue their assault on the unicow.

  The unicow herself is just standing there, looking like a huge, military-grade porcupine and letting the spikes do the work for her. She’s tucked her head down so the spikes on the back of her neck are pointing forwards.

  Finally, she shakes the dead raptors off her and calmly walks on while her spikes slowly retract

  It’s the most insane thing I’ve ever seen. That innocent-looking unicow just fought off a pack of raptors without breaking a sweat. It’s really more of a unicowcupine.

  The zoologist in me thinks it’s fascinating. The human in me just wants to get the hell away from here.

  I take one step out of the bush when I realize I’m dead.

  There was another raptor just waiting to see what would happen. Or maybe it had seen me.

  It’s certainly seeing me now. Ten feet away, and as tall as I am. Claws the size of dinner knives and many rows of dirty teeth, red eyes that are looking at me with cool, reptilian indifference as it tilts its head to the side.

  I freeze, feeling a new wave of ice go down my back an
d the breath sticking in my throat.

  My hands clench around nothing. I’ve dropped my spear.

  I’ve never had the fight-or-flight reflex as strongly as just now.

  And I can’t fight.

  So I run. Into the bush I just came out of, crashing through it and hoping there isn’t another pack of raptors waiting on the other side.

  Not that it makes any difference. One raptor is more than enough to kill me good and dead.

  I run like a crazy woman, blindly through the jungle. Branches and leaves whip my face and scratch my legs. I don’t even know if the raptor is coming after me, but I have no time to check.

  I intuitively change my direction and run straight for where the unicowcupine disappeared into the woods. My only hope is that the raptor will be scared of it and I can hide inside the unicowcupine’s bubble of safety.

  I never get that far. I trip in a nest of vines and fall headlong down a steep hill consisting mostly of sharp rocks.

  I just have time to let out one shrill scream before everything goes black.

  4

  - Car’rakz -

  I raise my head. That wasn’t the sound of any Small or Big I’ve ever heard. That sounded more like a human. It was a bright voice, like a boy before the Stripening. And it had such fear in it. The sudden fear of death.

  I sigh. Caring for the boys of other tribes is not my responsibility. In the jungle, anyone is responsible for only his own safety. But I can’t hear a scream like that and not go to investigate.

  I get to my feet on the top of the small hill where I was planning to spend the night. I’ve been slow to make my way through the jungle. I’m in no hurry to return to the tribe, and I’ve done some exploring now that I’m here in a part of the woods that’s new to me.

  And some thinking. After visiting the alien tribe, the world has changed for me. Not necessarily for the better. I can’t get out of my mind the face of that alien female, that smile. I’ve seen people smile before, of course. But they were men or boys. This was the smile of a woman. And it warmed me up in the most puzzling way. Not just my heart, either. But further down, too.

  I walk quickly, but silently in the direction where I think I heard the scream coming from. Perhaps this is good. Perhaps this will take my mind off the events from earlier.

  I see dark clouds not too far to the north, and lightning flashes almost continuously in the distance. The sound of rolling thunder reaches my ears. This could become a very wet night.

  I spot a hurum that’s been in battle recently, judging from the blood dripping from it and its broken-off spikes. Not every young Big has learned not to attack those things. The meat of a hurum is said to be sweet and tender, but the tribesmen rarely hunt it. There isn’t enough meat to make it worth the effort, and they’re so rare that seeing one is considered good luck. They just walk through the jungle in never-ending treks with a meaning only they know.

  This one is calmly walking on, with no regard for the noise it’s making.

  The jungle is dense, and it’s getting dark. I realize I might not find the boy I heard. Perhaps it was he that attacked the hurum and so was surprised by its defense? But no boy can contain that much blood. And in any case, he might still be alive.

  I walk the other way, along the very obvious trail the hurum has left. It winds its way up on a ridge, and when I get up there I’m looking down into a canyon with a dry riverbed at the bottom.

  There’s movement on the other side. A young rekh is pacing back and forth on the edge of the forest, clearly interested in something down in the canyon.

  I lean out over the edge to see the bottom.

  Then I scramble to get down there, sliding and tumbling down the steep scree. The rekh has the same idea and has thrown caution to the wind as it, too, clumsily makes its way down the other side of the canyon.

  I have to get there first.

  When I get down to the bottom, along with an avalanche of rocks and gravel, I sprint to the other side. The rekh comes bounding straight towards me.

  We meet in the middle, right on top of the motionless person.

  I hack my sword across the rekh’s muzzle, but it’s fast and dodges my strike. Three of its claws slash my chest open, but I ignore the blazing pain and accurately thrust the sword at the rekh’s eyes.

  Again it dodges my blow, but I’ve tricked it — it wasn’t a serious thrust, just a set-up for the next slash that easily cuts the rekh’s head clean off.

  My sword may be broken, but it’s sharp enough.

  I slide the blade into the scabbard before the predator has fallen to the ground. Then I squat down to check on what this really is.

  In the darkness, the scent tells me the truth before my eyes can confirm it. It’s a woman. In fact, it’s the woman. The one who smiled at me back at the alien tribe. The alien woman with the happy laugh.

  In a split second, all the things told to me by the old shaman when I was younger descend on my thoughts like a mine caving in. The Woman. The Ancestors. The Mating. Everything that Brax’tan told me wasn’t true, after all, just a few hours ago.

  And yet, here is a woman now.

  She may not be The Woman. But can’t she be my Woman?

  I banish my confused thoughts. Mythical and divine creature or not, this woman is injured.

  I lay my ear to her mouth. Her breath is fast and shallow, but it’s hard to concentrate. Her scent suddenly hits my nose and makes me dizzy.

  I place one finger on her slender neck. The heartbeat is regular, although as quick as that of a ytti pup.

  She must be injured, but in the darkness I can’t see the extent of it. If it’s her head…

  I stroke along her hair, feeling the heat from her body. My hand comes away with a little bit of blood on it, and I can see cuts on her legs. Still, she’s missing no limbs, and she does not appear to have been pierced by the hurum’s spikes.

  I look around. The night is dark, but the jungle is never completely black. Why is she here?

  Well, she can’t stay here. Neither can I. We’re exposed on all sides, and if there’s one rekh, there may be more. They often attack in packs.

  I gently grab the woman’s thin, impossibly delicate wrists and lift her onto my shoulders. She has a compact weight to her, but she’s very light. And her soft scent now fills my nose with such intensity that I have to concentrate not to swoon.

  My crotch swells so much it threatens to burst through my pants. Half-forgotten images of the wooden female doll the shaman used to instruct us in Worship and Mating flash before my eyes. And here is a real, live woman on my shoulders now! What if…

  A thunderclap booms through the jungle, much closer now. It will rain hard very soon.

  No, I can’t entertain those thoughts now. I have to get to safety, away from the canyon.

  I walk along the dry riverbed, keeping to one bank, looking for a good place to climb up its side. If I’m attacked here, it could be the end of both the woman and me.

  I’ve never felt so threatened and exposed. The responsibility of having an injured alien female on my back makes me feel extremely vulnerable.

  What was she doing here?

  I notice that my feet are splashing in water. The riverbed isn’t dry anymore. The water is rising fast.

  The thunderstorm has released a lot of rain, and the water is now starting to fill up the canyon.

  I finally find a slope that’s not too steep and climb up the loose gravel, sliding two paces back for every three up.

  The river is now running fast behind me, becoming a flash flood that deepens fast, with every huge, dirty brown wave that comes rushing down the river.

  I climb faster, knowing that if we slide back down to the bottom, we might be washed away by the water. I might not be able to save both myself and the woman. Or either of us.

  The first raindrop hits me, and white lightning rips the night to shreds. I scramble to the top of the ridge and take a moment to turn around and look down.


  The river is running white, and the thunder from the water drowns out the actual thunder that’s all around me now. It’s a deafening cacophony unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

  But I can’t marvel at the might of the jungle. I have to get this woman to safety.

  A bolt of lighting hits a tree on the other side of the canyon in a blinding white flash, and when the bang follows a split second later, I’m shaken to my core.

  Because the flash lights up my surroundings. And there’s a huge sprak staring at me from less than twenty paces away. Its red eyes glow, and it grins with teeth the size of daggers. Long, thin arms tipped with six claws reach out for me.

  I gently adjust the woman on my back.

  5

  - Tamara -

  “Jess, it’s boiling! Take it off the plate,” I mumble.

  Then I wake up with a start and look around, disoriented. This isn’t my dorm room, and Jess isn’t burning something on the hot plate we share. The sound of oil sizzling in a hot skillet isn’t oil at all, but hard rain on the canopy of leaves over me.

  Ah. Xren, Bune, the girls. It all comes back to me.

  It takes me another couple of seconds to realize this isn’t even the primitive hut in the village. It does look like a hut, but the ceiling is so much closer than I’m used to. I doubt there’s room for me to stand up in here.

  I struggle to remember where exactly I am and what happened before I fell asleep.

  Delyah and Sophia saying I should do some zoological field work.

  The cavemen from other tribes. Or was that a dream?

  All the damn dragon talk that made me want to weep. Pretty sure that was real.

  And then… something.