“Er, what’s your name?” I tried again.

“Uh,” said the boy.

I frowned.

“Do you have a name?” I wondered aloud, not sure how I was going to make him understand me without the amulet’s help.

“Name’s . . . Ned,” the boy said.

I can’t describe how slowly he said it. I could have read a stack of comic books, taken Plato for a walk and completed five levels of a mega-hard computer game, and he still wouldn’t have finished.

“This is going to sound like a bit of a weird question, but what year is this?” I asked.

Ned gawped at me again.

“Uh . . .” he said.

Realization hit me like a wet sneeze from a droid penguin. The amulet was working fine – Ned was just incredibly clueless. If the letters were right then this was the Stone Age, and Ned was a Stone-Age boy. What was I expecting? Einstein?

“Year of Bison,” said Ned.

He spoke a bit faster this time. My mind was racing, trying to remember everything I had ever learned about the Stone Age. There wasn’t much:

• For food, Stone-Age people hunted wild animals, fished and collected fruits, nuts and berries.
• They made tools out of stone.
• They lived in caves.

Yeah, really helpful. What I wouldn’t give for a powerful broadband connection and a good search engine. My fingers closed around the SurfM8 in my pocket and I sighed. I was several thousand years too early to be able to use that.

“Ned, have you seen anyone different here lately?” I asked. “A man or a woman wearing clothes kind of like mine?”

Ned’s eyes ran up and down my clothes. He blinked several times.

“No one like you,” he said at last. “You new.”

I sighed. I’d travelled thousands of years through time, and I’d just hit another dead end. I was feeling kind of fed up, and then Ned grinned at me.

He had a nice smile, if you ignored the rotting yellow teeth and the large gaps.

“Come,” said Ned. “My home.”

Suddenly all the excitement of Adventuring came back to me. It was like having fireworks going off inside my head! Ned kept smiling and nodding his head.

“Sure thing, Ned,” I said. “Lead the way!”

I was hanging out with a Stone-Age caveboy. Awesome!

Ned charged through the thick undergrowth of the forest like a herd of hippos. He was barefoot, but I could see that the soles of his feet were rock solid. He trampled over stones, branches, thorns and brambles as if he didn’t feel a thing.

“Slow – down!” I puffed, as sweat trickled down my forehead.

Ned might be a slow speaker, but there was nothing slow about his legs. We pounded through closely packed trees and leaped over colourful plants, gigantic insects and wide roots that arched out of the ground like skateboard runs.

“This would be an awesome place to try out a few tricks,” I wheezed, wishing I’d brought my board with me.

Ned stopped dead in his tracks again. I cannoned into him and staggered backwards into a tree.

“Home,” said Ned.

We were standing in another, larger clearing. There was a small stream beside us, with water so clear it looked like glass. Loads of Stone-Age people were sitting and standing around the entrance to a massive cave.

One man was carrying bundles of twigs on his back. Another was skinning a dead animal with a knife that looked as if it were made of stone. Blood was dripping onto the ground beneath him, where a wolf-like dog licked it up.

Three women and two men were crouching together, weaving something that looked a bit like a net. A couple of girls with long matted hair were arguing beside a tree, and kept banging each other on the head with rocks.

Two women were cooking something in a pot over a fire, and dozens of little kids were racing around and getting in everyone’s way. The weird thing was that there was no chatter, like you’d expect in the present day. I guess Stone-Age people didn’t make a lot of small talk.

“Is this your family?” I asked Ned.

“Ned no family,” said Ned sadly. “Killed. Mastodon stampede.”

I felt a bit selfish – at least my parents were alive, even if they were totally lost in time.

“Sorry to hear that,” I said.

I racked my brains to remember what a mastodon looked like.

“Not sad,” Ned insisted. “Tribe Ned’s family.”

As we walked towards the cave, the man skinning the animal looked up. He flung the bloody corpse to the women who were cooking, stood up and wiped his hands on his animal skin clothes.

“Stranger,” he said in a deep, grunting voice.

His brown eyes were as big as an owl’s, and his hair hung in long dreadlocks down to his waist. I could see tiny bones and shells plaited into it. All the other people had stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me. I started to feel a bit uncomfortable.

“This Bert,” said Ned. “Bert tribe leader.”

“Hi,” I said. “My name’s Will – I’m here looking for my parents. They’re sort of . . . lost somewhere.”

“Will?” said Bert slowly.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Look, I was just wondering if you’d seen anyone wearing these sort of clothes, maybe a man who looks a bit like me?”

“Will,” said Bert again. “Human?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

That was rich coming from a prehistoric man!

“Will – friend,” said Ned.

Understanding seemed to arrive in Bert’s brain. His face lit up with a big smile. He was the proud owner of five teeth.

“Friend good!” he said. “Welcome! Eat, eat!”

He gestured to the pot that the women were stirring. They had now added the animal he had skinned to the mixture. It smelled as if someone had been boiling up Grandpa’s dirty socks for a couple of months.

“Er, thanks, but I’ve just had my breakfast,” I said. “Ned, why don’t you show me your cave?”

Ned led me into the dark cave. There were furs scattered everywhere and primitive-looking paintings daubed on the walls. But there was one thing about the cave that made me forget about everything else. It stank. It reeked worse than a jar full of stale skunk farts. Ever read about people wrinkling up their noses in disgust? Well, at that moment my nose was wrinkling up all by itself.

“Ned, how many people live in here?” I choked.

“Whole tribe,” said Ned with great pride. “Fifty people.”

He seemed to be speaking more quickly and easily now. For a moment I wondered if the amulet was helping him too, but then my mind went back to the stink.

Try to imagine a stench so strong that you feel as if you’ll never be able to smell anything again. I think it wilted the hairs inside my nostrils.

“It really pongs,” I said, waving my hand in front of my nose. “Do you . . . er . . . go to the toilet in here?”

Ned looked confused – I guess there was no translation for ‘toilet’.

“Do everything here,” he said. “Will, want to meet my pets?”

“Sure, why not?” I said, trying not to breathe in.

He led me to a little stone ledge that was piled high with furs. I wondered what sort of pets Ned would have. Dogs, probably – or perhaps a giant hamster?

“Is this your bed?” I asked.

Before Ned could get around to answering, the furs started to move. They rose up and I saw tawny stripes, quivering whiskers and . . . ENORMOUS teeth. I totally forgot about the stink, because I could hardly believe my eyes.

“They’re . . . they’re . . . s-sabre-toothed t-tigers!” I stammered.