Stone Age Rampage. Chris Blake

man jumped. “Goat talks?” he gasped, blinking in astonishment.

      “Who are you calling a goat?” Zuma said indignantly.

      The boy made a grumbling noise that Tom realised was a chuckle. “She’s not a goat, Blood-Father,” he said. “She’s a girl.” The boy stuck his knife back into his belt. Lifting up the net, he helped Tom and Zuma out. “Sorry,” he said. “We thought you were food.”

      Tom and Zuma scrambled clear of the net, relieved to be free from the prickly ropes. The older hunter put away his axe. He was still scowling. “What tribe you belong?” he asked curtly.

      Tom scratched his head, not sure how to answer. “My tribe isn’t from around here. We’ve come from very far away.”

      “From beyond the mountains?” the hunter asked suspiciously.

      “Way beyond them,” said Zuma. At her feet Chilli was still glaring at the hunter, giving him a warning growl. Zuma picked up the Chihuahua and gave him a hug.

      As the boy began to gather the net, Tom helped him. “This is a strong net,” he said, inspecting the rope. “What did you make it out of?”

      “String peeled from the inside of tree bark,” said the boy, beaming. “I twisted the string into a length of twine, then wove it into a net.”

      “Cool!” said Tom.

      The older hunter gave his chest a thump and grunted. “Gam,” he said, then pointed a scarred finger at the boy. “This Gam’s Blood-Son, Arn.”

      Following the man’s lead, Tom thumped his own chest and said, “Tom.” He then pointed to Zuma and told the hunters her name.