"Hello!" The Doctor said brightly. Clara rolled her eyes. There was a fine line between boldness and insanity she knew, but she was never sure just which side of the line The Doctor stood. He didn't know either. "My name is The Doctor." He proffered his hand.
Clara straightened up and saw the Neanderthals for the first time. They were just a bit taller than her, all of them male. They were... well, wide was probably the best way to put it and, judging by their arms, not a single part of their stomach would be fat. They were wrapped up tightly in thick animal hides, the species of which Clara didn't care to guess.
One of the Neanderthals retracted his spear. "Teeth," he said.
"I'm sorry?" The Doctor said.
The Neanderthal pointed at The Doctor. "Docker." He pointed at himself. "Teeth."
"Oh I see! It's your name!" The Doctor smiled warmly and gestured to Clara. "This is Clara, whom I travel with. We just sort of happened across the elk and thought we'd take a look. I hope we didn't scare you."
The rest of The Neanderthals still had their spears pointed at The Doctor and his companion, but it seemed as though Teeth was in charge and he ordered them to lower their spears with a simple. "No."
"Did he just say no?" Clara asked.
"One of the oldest words in the Universe," nodded The Doctor. He turned back to the huddle. "Now if you'll excuse us, we should probably be on our way."
He turned around with the intention of walking away, but was blocked by three more Neanderthals that had apparently been there since the conversation had started. They really were very good hunters.
"Follow," said Teeth.
"I suppose we don't have a choice, do we Doctor?" Clara asked.
"Not really, no." He brightened up. "At least we're going to see an actual Neanderthal settlement! I haven't been to one since..." He trailed off. "Well, I don't think I've ever been to one! I love trying out new things."
"Except soufflés, apparently."
Snow began to fall just as the party reached a cluster of huts at the foot of a cliff. A dim light flickered in the heart of the camp; Clara could see that The Doctor was disappointed by this.
"I suppose arriving just in time for the discovery of fire was a bit too much to hope for," he said.
"You know," said Clara, "You could just travel to the discovery of fire if you wanted to. You do have a time machine."
"I'd spend a lifetime looking for it though. It could happen anywhen. Anywhere. Well, not exactly anywhen - it's obviously already occurred, but you know what I mean." He stopped talking when he bumped into Teeth, who had halted.
"You eat?" asked Teeth, indicating the raw meat that two Neanderthals were impaling on sticks and roasting over the open flames. The scent of cooking steaks wafted around the camp, occasionally accompanied by a crack or a sizzle as the juices dripped into the flames.
"I've never had venison before," Clara told The Doctor. "Is it good?"
"I haven't the faintest idea!" The Doctor said cheerfully. Teeth sat down by the fire, beckoning for The Doctor and Clara to join him. A few other Neanderthals had also taken up positions around the flames and some of them, Clara noticed, were female. They looked similar to the males, though some wore leaves in their hair. One of them was considerably younger than the rest of the women in the camp, Clara guessed she couldn't have been older than 12. She was looking over Clara as though she were, well, as though she were an alien. Which, she supposed, she was.
Once everybody had taken a spot around the fire, Teeth began to talk. It had been hard to place his accent from just a few words, but Clara was still lost even as he spoke in full, albeit broken, sentences. She'd heard somewhere that Russian was a language without pronouns, but this language seemed to be lacking in pretty much everything.
"Now," Teeth said, in a low guttural voice. Clara had to praise his projection - you could almost mistake his speech for thunder. "Gods give men. Welcome. We sit. Eat. Sleep. Protect. Gods be happy. Thank."
"Thank," chorused the others.
There were a few moments of light discussion as one Neanderthal stood up and began to hand out cuts from the elk that they'd seen earlier. Clara turned to The Doctor.
"What did he just say?"
"I think," he began, "that they believe we have been presented to them by some Gods and that they must protect us while we are here."
"Perhaps they've asked their Gods for something and believe they shall receive it if they protect us for a while?"
"Perhaps," said The Doctor. He didn't add that he thought this highly unlikely. Unfortunately Clara noticed.
"So long as we don't end up as sacrifices!" She joked. The Doctor didn't laugh.
The pair of them were handed cuts of meat.
"Thank you," said The Doctor.
The man who had given him the food placed one hand on his chest and said "Smoke." The Doctor copied him. "Dok-ter?" parroted Smoke, trying to come to terms with the new sound. The Doctor smiled and Smoke moved on.
"I don't suppose they've invented silverware yet?" Clara asked, mournfully looking down at the lump of meat she'd been given. It smelled delicious, but she was wary of embarrassing herself. She even ate pizza with a knife and fork.
"I'm afraid not," said The Doctor, delving into one of his many pockets. He produced an array of cutlery. "Still, you should never go anywhere without a spoon."
Clara took the cutlery gratefully and dug in, savouring every mouthful. The Doctor had abandoned table manners and was excitedly digging his teeth into it, possibly in the hope of impressing this Neanderthal tribe, but all he was succeeding in doing was getting his neighbours covered in the bloody juices.
His companion couldn't help but notice that the Neanderthal sat next to The Doctor was slowly edging further and further away from him. She shook her head with pity and was about to take another mouthful of venison when a glimmer caught her eye. She looked up sharply and saw the same girl from earlier, huddled close to a Neanderthal that Clara had originally assumed to be her mother. She had hardly touched her meal, whereas everybody else's had massive chunks missing where they'd torn bits off with their teeth.
As she watched, the young girl lifted a fork of her own to her mouth and chewed.
After everybody had finished Teeth once again addressed the company.
"Now, name." He said. "Teeth."
As they went around the circle, each Neanderthal spoke their name and placed a hand on their chest.
"Branch."
"Tusk."
"Snow."
"Horn."
When it came to Smoke's name, The Doctor gave a little wave as he said it, which Smoke reciprocated. Teeth looked at The Doctor, who said "It's a greeting." Soon, all of them were waving at one another, and it took a word from Teeth to make everybody stop. Teeth pointed at the next person in the circle. This was the young girl who Clara had seen with the fork. Her name turned out to be Wool. The final two males were introduced as Rock and Wing, and then Teeth spoke up again.
"Welcome Docker, Clara, home. Sleep long. Next day see Gods. Must awake." He indicated a tent. "Sleep here."
"Why thank you, Teeth," said The Doctor. "Come on, Clara," he said, "apparently we've got a big day tomorrow."
He strode off into the tent. The Neanderthals rose as one and all headed off to individual tents, apart from the women who apparently all slept together. Perhaps it was one of their tents that had been sacrificed to provide comfort for the two strangers in their land.
As Clara made her way to the tent that she and The Doctor had been allocated, a rustle from behind her made her look over her shoulder. The face of Wool poked out of the female tent. Clara smiled at her. Wool smiled back and gave a little wave.
Later, Clara would think back to that moment and picture the smile. It was less a smile and more of a smirk. And that wave... it could almost have been a wave goodbye.
