Cackles pulled the last remaining flesh off the bone in his hand. He watched the savanna from the troop’s camp above on the mesa. The red sun faded, taking the heat of day with it. He chomped on the snack of raw meat and tossed the bone casually behind him. Bobo, ever eager, scrambled to collect it. It was a perfect piece to help craft his new weapon.

Marty hit Bobo on the head with the bottom of a closed fist. His thick brow wrinkled. “Hey, since when do you get all the good bones?”

Bobo scowled, rubbing his head. “Finders keepers, Marty. Go find your own bones.”

Greenie, lounging nearby, snickered. “Boys, boys, stop fighting over scraps. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Vicious growled from the shadows. “Ooba! Greenie's right. The Neandersmols are getting too comfortable. Gaining too much common sense. It’s time we slow things down.”

Kala, the quiet one, stepped forward. Her eyes gleamed with cynical cunning. “And how do you propose we do that, Vicious? Another failed ambush? Wouldn’t that be super.”

Vicious snarled but said nothing. It was Cackles who spoke next, his voice a rasping whisper. “We need to be smart about this. Find a weak link where we can start some chaos.”

“Like what?” Marty asked, still fuming over the bone.

Cackles grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. “We’ll set traps. Lure them in. Make them fear us, ooba!”

The group considered the situation for a silent moment. “It’s risky,” Greenie said finally. “What if it backfires?”

“Then we’ll handle it,” Vicious said, cracking his knuckles.

“No Neandersmol can outsmart us.”

Kala nodded slowly. “It’s risky, but it might work too. We just need to be careful.”

Cackles leaned back, satisfied. “Then let’s get to work. Tomorrow, we start setting traps around the mesa.”

ЖЖЖЖЖЖ

The next day, the troop was a flurry of activity. Bobo hammered away at his bone weapon, occasionally interrupted by Marty's complaints. Greenie gathered supplies, muttering under his breath with lingering skepticism. Vicious sharpened his claws, while Kala prepared rudimentary traps using vines and rocks. As the sun set, the Grimthorns gathered at the edge of their camp. The night was dark and moonless, perfect for their stealthy work.

“Everyone knows their role?” Cackles asked. The group nodded. “Remember, stick to the plan, ooba.”

They spread out, placing the traps. Pits were dug and covered, snares hidden in the underbrush, and false trails cleared to lead intruders into their clutches. Bobo worked quickly, setting up a particularly nasty trap involving a swinging log. Marty hovered nearby, occasionally offering unsolicited advice.

“Don’t mess it up, Bobo. We don’t have time to fix your mistakes.”

Bobo glared at him. “I know what I’m doing, Marty. Just keep watch.”

The night passed uneventfully, and by dawn, the traps were set. The Grimthorns returned to their camp, satisfied with their work. The following afternoon, as they lounged in their camp, a rustling in the bushes below caught their attention. Vicious was the first to react, his keen senses alerting him to the presence of an intruder.

“Someone’s here,” he growled.

Cackles motioned for silence, and they each crouched low, peering through the foliage to the path below. A lone Neandersmol, wandered into their territory, oblivious to the danger.

“Perfect,” Cackles whispered. “Let’s see how they enjoy our welcome.”

The Neandersmol, young and wide-eyed, moved leisurely. Her eyes scanned the far landscape instead of her surroundings. Foolishly far from her village, it was a lucky break for the Grimthorns to catch one alone out here. As she ventured deeper into the mesa, she stepped into one of the traps. The ground beneath her gave way, and she tumbled into a hidden pit.

The Grimthorns watched, panting with anticipation. Their captive struggled to climb out of the pit, her hands slipping on the loose soil. She called out, hoping someone would hear her.

“Help! Anyone there? I’m Rina, I mean you no harm,” her shallow voice sounded weak.

“Too comfortable indeed. Have they even forgotten we exist?” Cackles motioned for the rest to stay hidden.

Minutes passed, and Rina’s cries grew more desperate. Finally, Cackles gave the signal, and the Grimthorns emerged from the shadows above, surrounding the pit.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Cackles taunted, his grin wide and menacing.

Rina looked up, her eyes filled with fear. “Please, help me. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“Too late for that,” Vicious sneered. “You’re in our territory now.”

Kala stepped forward, “What should we do with her?”

Marty cracked his knuckles. “Let’s scare her a bit more. Teach her a lesson.”

“Or we could use her,” Bobo offered. “Send a message to the other Neandersmols.”

Greenie nodded in agreement. “Ooba! Let them know we’re not to be messed with.”

Cackles considered their suggestions, his eyes never leaving Rina. “Alright. We’ll send a message. But first, we celebrate and rest.”

The Grimthorns pulled Rina from the pit and bound her hands with vines. They led her back to their camp in silence, making sure she understood the gravity of her situation. Pleased with themselves, they paid her no attention as they celebrated her capture. They feasted on tender meats they had saved. Their dance and chant ran deep into the night. Even Marty and Bobo got along for a while, content with the outcome of the day. The little troop slept peacefully, with the distant sounds of wild animals like a lullaby.

At dawn, they wasted no more time.

“Tell your people,” Cackles hissed to Rina, “that the Grimthorns are not to be trifled with. We are coming for what is ours. This is our land, and we won’t be pushed around.”

Rina nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I will. Just please, let me go.”

Kala sensed they’d gotten what they needed, “We’ve made our point, then. Let her go.”

Vicious shoved her toward the path leading back to her village.

“Remember,” Cackles called after her, “we’ll be watching.”

ЖЖЖЖЖЖ

Days passed, and the Grimthorns kept watch, expecting retaliation from the Neandersmols. They fortified their camp, adding more traps and defenses. Marty and Greenie scouted the perimeter, looking for signs of an approaching enemy. Vicious grew anxious. On the fifth evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the clan huddled quietly around their campfire. The crackling flames cast eerie shadows on their faces, and showed their discontent.

Kala broke the silence, “She must have had time to return, right?”

Greenie retorted, “Of course ooba! Something’s wrong. Should’ve sent someone with her.”

“Well, if they won’t come to us, we’ll take the fight to them!” Cackles was tired of trying to play things so delicately.

The next morning, the troop set off. They tracked Rina back for two days, bringing them along a river and gradually more lush landscape. The Neandersmol could have easily hidden her trail once she reached the water. Not enough common sense to hide, they joked between themselves. Still, something was unsettling.

Once they started to spot small boats in the river at a distance, the Grimthorns stopped to bathe with wildflower soap to mask their smell, and changed into common Neandersmol village clothing before they continued. Activity grew as they neared their destination. More Neandersmols milled about, carrying unusual tools and attaching themselves on top of strange mechanisms. Some moved slowly across the land, like oxen plowing a field. Others rode faster toward the village walls.

Structures rose up toward the sky behind the walls, made of stone piled high beyond belief. Everything happening around them retained a familiar sense of purpose, but seemed to be done differently. The Neandersmols had found all sorts of new tools. This was not the village the Grimthorns expected to find, and as they reached the main entrance, they realized it was no longer just a village at all.

Bobo, being the inventor of the group, whistled in admiration. “Ooo-ba... what a sight. Did these dolts build all this?”

It was obvious too that their disguises were outdated. The locals cast them strange looks like they’d come from a backward village themselves, or that some disease had marred their faces. Still, no more than curiosity. Certainly not a real suspicion of danger.

Vicious directed a frustrated hiss toward a passerby with a cart of fruit. “Ooga! Bath you need!” came the response. Greenie snickered, only to trip distracted over a fallen fruit and bump into a hurried Neandersmol who simply said “Watch step.”

Vicious whispered to Cackles, “Why aren’t they afraid of us chief?”

“At least they still talk like idiots,” Kala noted, trying to get back her confidence.

“Something has changed. It’s like they’ve forgotten us. And how did they learn to do all this so quickly? We’re going to have to blend in for a while and figure out what we’re dealing with. Good news is that we still have surprise on our side.” He grinned devilishly, and started to hum a happy tune. This was going to get interesting.

As they made their way farther into the density of the fancy village, it was clear that the Neandersmol behavior had changed along with their structures and tools. Groups gathered around silly playthings, and had long conversations. Others laid on the lawn, studying rather than working.

A group gathered around a platform in the center of a wide open space with an arch above. Colorful flags stood around it to draw attention. A decorative rug was laid out up front where children sat. The crowd laughed and let out jolly oogas. Some Neandersmols stood atop it wearing clothes unlike the others. Some stood in a separate group, and wore clothes like the Grimthorns’ own. But their ugly faces could only be Neandersmols for sure. The two groups pretended to throw stones at each other until one fell dramatically to the floor. The crowd cheered and laughed with joy, “Grimthorns bad! Neandersmol good! Bye bye Grimeys!”

Marty, always quick to anger, moved to attack the crowd but found himself bumping into the chest of a large and well-armed Neandersmol. Suddenly, the little troop was surrounded. Cackles heard from behind the guards the familiar whining voice of Rina, “Them, that’s the evil trappers! Knew they come. Ooogaaha!”