him, ever more insistently, until Kit realised that the creature on the other end of the stick wanted him to take hold of it. Tentatively grasping the smooth, rounded haft of the branch, he was pulled upright in a single, effortless jerk, and quickly scrambled to his feet.
The top of the hole was still two feet or so above his head, so the pole was offered again and, grasping it tightly with both hands, Kit was hauled bodily up out of the pit to stand before creatures whose existence was the stuff of myth and dusty museum dioramas. There were two of them. Large, shaggy, and extremely inquisitive creatures, they regarded him intently, bright curiosity burning in their dark eyes. One was larger than the other, older, but both were dressed in skins held together with strings and bands of woven rope and dried gut. Their flesh was a healthy nut-brown from the sun and weather; their hair long and dark, but sun-bleached at the tips; the older one was aggressively bearded, and the younger lacked any facial hair. Both were barefoot, with broad, splayed toes and thick calloused soles. Both held identical stout-shafted spears with stubby blades made of chipped flint.
Although no taller than Kit himself, they gave every impression of being giants—perhaps owing to their perfectly solid presence and heavy muscular build. They were magnificent specimens: broad of shoulder and deep of chest; with large, square heads on short corded necks and huge muscled forearms, legs, and thighs; short-waisted and thick about the middle, they appeared almost as broad as they were tall, yet there was not an ounce of fat on them, just pure, lean, hard muscle and lots of it.
They gaped at Kit, then at one another, then at Kit again—their wide, expressive faces registering unalloyed wonder at the sight of so strange a being hauled from their trap. Then, after a moment’s consideration, the younger one reached out with a thick, grubby forefinger and poked Kit in the chest as if to test his corporeality. It was the most natural gesture in the world, yet it made Kit’s knees buckle. He swayed and stepped back, whereupon the older one reached out and, taking his entire shoulder in one massive hand, steadied him with a grip so gentle and reassuring that Kit almost swooned at the touch. His heart skipped a beat or two, and his breath caught in his throat as the utter impossibility of this most peculiar predicament broke over him: he had been captured by cavemen.
Kit’s heart thumped in his chest, and he felt faint and dizzy with the surge of adrenaline and high-octane emotion crashing through him. His thoughts skittered off in every direction, leaving him with an utterly useless question. What now? What, under holy heaven, now?
Without a sound or sign, the older of the two creatures turned abruptly and started walking away; after a few steps, the big hunter paused and with a curved hand gesture—the kind a child might make to a playmate—indicated that Kit was to follow. Kit, afraid to do otherwise, obeyed. The little hunter fell into step behind him, and the three moved off in single file together. For beings so stocky, they moved with the agile grace of wild things, silent as shadows; the only sounds Kit heard were those of his own making—swishing through grass, breaking the odd twig beneath his shoes, the rustle of dry leaves.
Every now and then, Big Hunter would pause and sniff the air in an odd doglike fashion, his wide, flat nostrils flaring; he seemed to taste the air as much as smell it and, after each reassurance, moved on again with a little backwards glance at Kit as if to say, “All is well, we go on.”
They walked a long time, and the day began to fade. They were deeper into the wood now, the trees larger, the shadows thicker and darker. Branches closed overhead to form a green canopy, and the river narrowed to a slow-running stream. Moss and lichen grew on the trees and rocks all around, and a scent like that of mushrooms filled the air. They stopped to drink from the stream, first Little Hunter, then Big Hunter—each keeping guard over the other—while Kit lapped water from his cupped hands. They resumed their trek, moving ever deeper into the wooded valley, pausing every now and then to sniff the air. Kit used these little rest stops to surreptitiously check the ley lamp on the