yourself." Mark took out his knife and opened one of the tree rocks. She watched in fascination. He held out half to her. It looked as if she might take it but then she stepped back.
Mark stuffed himself, wiped his hands on his pants and thought about what to do next.
Leeta seemed nervous. She kept looking over her shoulder. Mark was afraid she was about to leave. Jabbing his chest with his finger, he said, "Mark." Then he pointed at her. "Leeta." He went through it again. "Mark ... Leeta."
It didn’t seem to faze her. He tried a different tactic. This time he touched the claw necklace, growled, picked up his spear and stabbed the air.
A small giggle escaped her lips.
He put the spear down. "So you think I’m funny? Well, at least that’s something." He sat back on his heels. "Okay. You talk to me."
She continued to stare at him with bright, shiny black eyes. Behind her there was movement. Mark jumped up, but before he could reach for his spear he was surrounded.
Leeta’s tribesmen had their weapons trained on him. Mark glanced around. He had named them wrong. They were the arrow people all right, but they also had clubs, blowguns and primitive crossbows.
A fierce-looking man with black dots tattooed across his forehead and a long, thin bone through his nose stepped in front of the fire. He looked angrily at Leeta. Then he raised his club.
It was the last thing Mark saw before he blacked out.
chapter
17
His forehead hurt and his arm was swollen and sore from the sting of the blow dart. Mark held his head and sat up. He was sitting on a dirt floor inside a round hut.
Whispers followed by peals of laughter came from the open door. Mark turned. Several small children were watching him.
He stood up and hit his head on the ceiling. The children howled with laughter.
"You guys are kind of short, aren’t you?" Mark looked around the small room and spotted his gear lying near the wall. It was all there, his boot, compass, knife, spear, and bow and arrows.
He scratched his head. None of this made sense. If he was a prisoner, why would they let him keep his weapons?
An old woman with short gray hair and a stooped back entered carrying a large red leaf and a carved wooden bowl with a glob of steaming white mush in it. She put it down in front of him and knelt. "Kakon ke ity."
Mark looked at the mush. "You want me to eat that?" He raised his hand and mimed putting something in his mouth.
The old woman nodded enthusiastically. "Kakon ke ity."
He squatted on his heels and picked up the leaf. "You wouldn’t try to poison me, would you?"
The woman gave him a wrinkled smile, revealing that all her front teeth were missing.
Mark scooped up a small portion of the mush with a piece of leaf and tasted it. It was bland but not awful. He took another bite. The woman and children continued to stare at him. Self-conscious, he hurriedly ate the rest, wiped his mouth and handed the woman the bowl. "My compliments to the chef."
She smiled again and backed out of the hut.
Mark followed her to the door. There was no guard. The children were the only ones paying any attention to him. Everyone else was busy with their daily routine.
He stepped outside. No one seemed to care. The youngsters circled him, poking his light skin and pointing at his strange toes and eyes. One little boy touched the bottom of Mark’s faded blue jeans. An older child said something in the clicking language and pointed at the claw necklace. This impressed the others and they lined up to get a better look.
"You guys are lucky I don’t charge admission." Mark side-stepped them and walked across the open compound.
Two men who were busy decorating a rectangular shield with black and orange dye gave him a friendly nod.
Mark nodded back. "Hi there. Nice day."
They looked at each other, shrugged and went back to what they were doing.
As he walked through the village everyone acknowledged him politely and no one made any effort to stop him.
The
Mark stuffed himself, wiped his hands on his pants and thought about what to do next.
Leeta seemed nervous. She kept looking over her shoulder. Mark was afraid she was about to leave. Jabbing his chest with his finger, he said, "Mark." Then he pointed at her. "Leeta." He went through it again. "Mark ... Leeta."
It didn’t seem to faze her. He tried a different tactic. This time he touched the claw necklace, growled, picked up his spear and stabbed the air.
A small giggle escaped her lips.
He put the spear down. "So you think I’m funny? Well, at least that’s something." He sat back on his heels. "Okay. You talk to me."
She continued to stare at him with bright, shiny black eyes. Behind her there was movement. Mark jumped up, but before he could reach for his spear he was surrounded.
Leeta’s tribesmen had their weapons trained on him. Mark glanced around. He had named them wrong. They were the arrow people all right, but they also had clubs, blowguns and primitive crossbows.
A fierce-looking man with black dots tattooed across his forehead and a long, thin bone through his nose stepped in front of the fire. He looked angrily at Leeta. Then he raised his club.
It was the last thing Mark saw before he blacked out.
chapter
17
His forehead hurt and his arm was swollen and sore from the sting of the blow dart. Mark held his head and sat up. He was sitting on a dirt floor inside a round hut.
Whispers followed by peals of laughter came from the open door. Mark turned. Several small children were watching him.
He stood up and hit his head on the ceiling. The children howled with laughter.
"You guys are kind of short, aren’t you?" Mark looked around the small room and spotted his gear lying near the wall. It was all there, his boot, compass, knife, spear, and bow and arrows.
He scratched his head. None of this made sense. If he was a prisoner, why would they let him keep his weapons?
An old woman with short gray hair and a stooped back entered carrying a large red leaf and a carved wooden bowl with a glob of steaming white mush in it. She put it down in front of him and knelt. "Kakon ke ity."
Mark looked at the mush. "You want me to eat that?" He raised his hand and mimed putting something in his mouth.
The old woman nodded enthusiastically. "Kakon ke ity."
He squatted on his heels and picked up the leaf. "You wouldn’t try to poison me, would you?"
The woman gave him a wrinkled smile, revealing that all her front teeth were missing.
Mark scooped up a small portion of the mush with a piece of leaf and tasted it. It was bland but not awful. He took another bite. The woman and children continued to stare at him. Self-conscious, he hurriedly ate the rest, wiped his mouth and handed the woman the bowl. "My compliments to the chef."
She smiled again and backed out of the hut.
Mark followed her to the door. There was no guard. The children were the only ones paying any attention to him. Everyone else was busy with their daily routine.
He stepped outside. No one seemed to care. The youngsters circled him, poking his light skin and pointing at his strange toes and eyes. One little boy touched the bottom of Mark’s faded blue jeans. An older child said something in the clicking language and pointed at the claw necklace. This impressed the others and they lined up to get a better look.
"You guys are lucky I don’t charge admission." Mark side-stepped them and walked across the open compound.
Two men who were busy decorating a rectangular shield with black and orange dye gave him a friendly nod.
Mark nodded back. "Hi there. Nice day."
They looked at each other, shrugged and went back to what they were doing.
As he walked through the village everyone acknowledged him politely and no one made any effort to stop him.
The
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