“Just a common stone. But maybe it likes you. Why else would it hang on?”
“Um… okay.”
He drops the pebble into my palm. Yep, just a jagged little rock that I could feel through the sole. Not so little, either. My foot is still hurting from stepping on it. Someone should do something about pebbles just lying around on the ground, being a hazard to passing girls.
I put the rock into my pocket and immediately have an idea. Some of these trees must have some good sap in them. Maybe even the kind I’d need to make rubber. We could make rubber soles for our shoes. Or even high rubber boots for rainy days. The girls would love that. Leather soles are okay, but we're always walking around with wet feet whenever there’s even a hint of rain.
“I'm sure it will bring you luck,” Brank'ox says and walks on.
He takes it easy and walks at my pace, and I’m grateful for it. The terrain is difficult.
Did I really walk all this way with that dragon? I don't remember it at all. I just remember backing away from him. Was I unconscious? Or did he actually hypnotize me? I remember Troga could do something similar. If you stared at her and were taken in by her beauty, time seemed to stand still and she would move all the way up to you before you knew it. But Isualic was in his human form, not at all like Troga. And while he had a certain magnetism, he wasn't the least bit beautiful. Except at the end, when he came in close.
Damn. He really did mesmerize me.
Finally I recognize where we are, and I know that the village is close. And there is the fallen tree with the palm fronds.
I point. “Brank'ox, could you help me bring these home to the village, please?”
His deep black eyes bore into mine. “For what purpose?”
“For making soap.” I don't know the cavemanese word, if they even have one.
He nods. “Ah. If it's for making soap, then of course I'll help.”
I cut more fronds off the trunk, because he carries a whole lot of them, and in two trips he has brought every single frond from the tree back to my lab.
We take in the huge stack in front of us. It's taller than him and must weigh a metric ton.
“Soap,” he says thoughtfully. “Is it an alien weapon?”
“It can be. If you rub it on the floor and make your enemy slip on it.”
“There are very few floors in the jungle,” he ponders. “To use soap, one must be very careful to be chased by one's enemy inside a small hut.”
“It takes some planning to use it like that,” I agree. “But mostly it's used for making yourself clean. Wait.”
I run into my hut and get my own little piece of soap, all that's left from the first batch.
“This is soap. Notice how slippery it is.”
He gingerly takes it between two fingers. “So it is.”
“So what you do is you rub it on a part of your body that you want to make clean. No, not dry. You make it wet first. Wait.”
I get a pot of water that's not too dirty. “Give me the soap. So now I will clean my forearm. Look. I make the skin wet, then dip the soap in water, and then I slide it on the skin. Like this. See? Give me your arm.”
He reaches out a massive forearm with sinews and muscles the thickness of entwined fire hoses.
I grab it and wash a little part of it. “See the foam? You spread it with your hand. Try it. Yes, good. A little goes a long way. Now rinse it off. Now, doesn't that feel cleaner?”
He slides one finger along the cleaned part. There's no visible difference. He was pretty clean from before. “Perhaps.”
“Definitely,” I correct. “Here, take the soap. It’s yours.”
He considers the tiny, leaf-thin bar in his hand. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for getting me away from that dragon. Um… please don’t tell anyone about him. I feel so stupid for being tricked.”
His eyes pierce me again. Then he turns on his heel and walks off without another word.
“Oookay,” I mutter. Not the most talkative guy.
My eyes follow him until he disappears among the huts. He is pretty spectacular, and I like the way his body moves under that kilt-like thing he’s wearing. I actually wish he’d