The Clan of the Cave Bear

  “Ba-ba-na-nee-nee,” Durc sounded.

  “Ba-ba-na-nee-nee,” Ayla mimicked the nonsense syllables.

  “No-na-nee-ga-goo-la,” Durc voiced another set of sounds.

  Ayla copied him again, then tickled him. She loved to hear him laugh. It always brought laughter to her own lips. Then she made a set of sounds, sounds she liked to hear him make more than any others. She didn’t know why, except it stirred in her a feeling of such tenderness it came close to bringing tears.

  “Ma-ma-ma-ma,” she said.

  “Ma-ma-ma-ma,” Durc repeated. Ayla wrapped her arms around her son and held him close. “Ma-ma,” Durc said again.

  He wriggled to get free. The only time he liked to cuddle for long was when he went to sleep snuggled beside her. She wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye. Watering eyes were one peculiarity he did not share with her. Durc’s large brown eyes, deep set below heavy brow ridges, were Clan.

  “Ma-ma,” Durc said. He often called her by the syllables when they were alone, especially after he was reminded. “You hunt now?” he gestured.

  The last few times she had taken Durc with her, she spent some time showing him how to hold a sling. She was going to make one for him, but Zoug beat her to it. The old man didn’t go out anymore, but his pleasure in trying to train the boy also pleased Ayla. Though Durc was young, Ayla could see he would have her aptitude with the weapon, and he was as proud of his miniature sling as he was of his small spear.

  He liked the attention he got as he strutted with a sling draped through the cord around his waist-all he wore in summer besides his amulet—and a spear in his hand. Grev had to have small weapons, too. The pair of them brought glimmers of amusement to the eyes of the clan, and comments about what fine little men they were. Their future role was already being defined. When Durc discovered that imperious bossiness to little girls was approved, and even benignly condoned toward grown women, he never hesitated to push to the limits allowed—except with his mother.

  Durc knew his mother was different. Only she laughed with him, only she played the game of sounds with him, only she had the soft golden hair he loved to touch. He could never remember her nursing him, but he would sleep with no one else. He knew she was a woman because she answered to the same motion as the other women. But she was much taller than any man, and she hunted. He wasn’t exactly sure what hunting was, except men did it—and his mother. She fit into no category; she was woman and not woman, man and not man. She was unique. The name he had begun to call her, the name made with sounds, seemed to suit her best. She was Mama; and Mama, the golden-haired goddess he adored, did not nod approvingly when he attempted to boss her.

  Ayla put Durc’s little sling in his hands, and holding hers over his, tried to show him how to use it. Zoug had done the same thing, and he was beginning to get the idea. Then she took her sling from her waist thong, found some pebbles, and hurled them at nearby objects. When she set small stones on larger boulders and proceeded to knock them off again, Durc thought it was funny. He toddled over with more stones to see her do it again. After a while he lost interest, and she went back to gathering plants while Durc followed after her. They found some raspberries and stopped to eat them.

  “You are a mess, my sticky son,” Ayla motioned, laughing at him with red juice on his face, hands, and round belly. She picked him up, tucked him under one arm, and carried him to a creek to wash him. Then she found a large leaf, folded it into a cone, and filled it with water for Durc and her to drink. Durc yawned and rubbed his eyes. She spread her carrying cloak out on the ground in the shade of a large oak, and lay down beside him until he fell asleep.

  In the quiet of the summer afternoon, Ayla sat with her back against the tree watching butterflies flitting then coming to rest with folded-back wings and insects buzzing in perpetual motion, and listened to a twittering symphony of chirping birds. Her mind wandered back to the events of the morning. I hope Uba will be happy with Vorn, she thought. I hope he’s good to her. It’s so empty with her gone, even if she isn’t far away. It’s just not the same. She’ll be cooking for her mate now, and sleeping with him after the isolation. I hope she has a baby soon, that would make her happy.

  But what about me? No one has ever come from that clan to ask about me. Maybe they just can’t find our cave. I don’t think they were all that interested, anyway. I’m glad. I don’t want to mate a man I don’t know. I don’t even want any of the ones I do know, and none of them want me. I’m too tall; even Droog barely reaches my chin. Iza used to wonder if I would ever stop growing. I’m beginning to wonder myself. Broud hates it. He can’t stand having a woman around taller than he is. But he hasn’t bothered me at all since we got back from the Clan Gathering. Why does it make me shudder every time he looks at me?

  Brun’s getting old. Ebra’s been getting medicine for his sore muscles and stiff joints lately. He’s going to make Broud leader soon. I know it. And Goov is going to be mog-ur. He’s doing more of the ceremonies all the time. I don’t think Creb wants to be mog-ur anymore, not since that time I watched them. Why did I go into the cave that night? I don’t even remember how I got there. I wish I had never gone to the Clan Gathering. If I hadn’t gone, I might have kept Iza alive for a few more years. I miss her so much, and I never did find a mate. Durc did, though.

  It’s strange that Ura was allowed to live, almost as if she was meant to be Durc’s mate. Men of the Others, Oda said. Who are they? Iza said I was born to them; why don’t I remember? What happened to my real mother? To her mate? Did I have any siblings? Ayla felt a faint queasiness in the pit of her stomach—not nausea, exactly, just a sense of unease. Then suddenly her scalp crawled when she remembered something Iza had told her the night she died. Ayla had pushed it out of her mind; it was too painful to think about Iza’s death.

  Iza told me to leave! She said I wasn’t Clan, she said I was born to the Others. She told me to find my own people, find my own mate. She said Broud would find a way to hurt me if I stayed. North, she said they live north, beyond the peninsula on the mainland.

  How can I leave? This is my home. I can’t leave Creb, and Durc needs me. What if I couldn’t find any Others? And if I did, they might not want me anyway. No one wants an ugly woman. How do I know I’d find a mate even if I did find some Others?

  Creb is getting old, though. What’s going to happen to me when he’s gone? Who will provide for me then? I can’t just live with Durc, some man will have to take me. But who? Broud! He’s going to be leader; if no one else wants me, he’ll have to. What if I have to live with Broud? He wouldn’t want me either, but he knows I’d hate it. He’d do it just because I’d hate it. I couldn’t stand living with Broud, I’d rather live with some man I don’t know from another clan, but they don’t want me either.

  Maybe I should leave. I could take Durc and we could both go. But what if I didn’t find any Others? And what if something happened to me? Who would take care of him? He’d be all alone, just like I was. I was lucky that Iza found me; Durc might not be so lucky. I can’t take him away, he was born here, he is Clan, even if he is part me, too. He has a mate arranged for him. What would Ura do if I took Durc away? Oda is training her to be Durc’s mate. She’s telling her there is a man for her even if she is deformed and ugly. Durc will need Ura, too. He will need a mate when he grows up, and Ura is just right for him.

  But I couldn’t leave without Durc. I’d rather live with Broud than leave Durc. I have to stay, there’s no other way. I’ll stay and live with Broud, if I have to. Ayla looked at her sleeping child and tried to compose her mind, tried to be a good Clan woman and accept her fate. A fly landed on Durc’s nose. He twitched, rubbed his nose in his sleep, then settled down again.

  I wouldn’t know where to go anyway. North? What does that tell me? Everything is north of here, only the sea is south. I could wander around for the rest of my life and not find anyone. And they can be as bad as Broud. Oda said those men forced her, didn’t even let her put
her baby down. It would be better to stay here with a Broud I know, than some man who might be worse.

  It’s late, I’d better get back. Ayla woke her son, and as she walked back to the cave, tried to push thoughts of Others out of her mind, but stray wisps of wondering kept insinuating themselves. Once recalled, she couldn’t quite forget the Others.

  “Are you busy, Ayla?” Uba asked. She had an expression that was both shy and pleased, and Ayla guessed why. She decided to let Uba tell her anyway.

  “No, I’m not really busy. I’ve just been mixing some mint and alfalfa and wanted to taste it. Why don’t I put some water on for tea.”

  “Where’s Durc?” Uba asked while Ayla stirred up the fire and added more wood and a few cooking stones.

  “He’s outside with Grev. Oga’s watching them. Those two, they’re always together,” Ayla motioned.

  “That’s probably because they nursed together. They’re closer than brothers. They’re almost like two born together.”

  “But two born together often look alike, and they certainly don’t. Do you remember that woman at the Clan Gathering with two born together? I couldn’t tell them apart.”

  “Sometimes it’s unlucky to have two born together, and three born together are never allowed to live. How could a woman feed three at one time—she only has two breasts?” Uba questioned.

  “With a lot of help. It’s enough strain on a woman to have two. I’m grateful Oga has always had plenty of milk, for Durc’s sake.”

  “I hope I have plenty of milk,” Uba gestured. “I think I’m going to have a baby, Ayla.”

  “I thought so, Uba. You haven’t had your woman’s curse since you were mated, have you?”

  “No. I think Vorn’s totem has been waiting a long time. It must have been very strong.”

  “Have you told him yet?”

  “I was going to wait until I was sure, but he guessed. He must have noticed that I didn’t go into isolation. He’s very happy about it,” Uba motioned proudly.

  “Is he a good mate, Uba? Are you happy?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s a good mate, Ayla. When he found out I was going to have a baby, he told me he waited for me for a long time, and he was glad I didn’t waste any time getting one started. He said he asked for me even before I became a woman.”

  “That’s wonderful, Uba,” Ayla said.

  She didn’t add that there wasn’t anyone else in the clan he could have mated, except herself. But why would he want me? Why would he want a big, ugly woman when he could have someone as attractive as Uba, and she was born to Iza’s line. What’s the matter with me? I never wanted to mate Vorn. I guess I must still be thinking about what will happen to me when Creb is gone. I’m going to have to take good care of him so he lives a long time. It just seems that he doesn’t want to live. He hardly ever goes out of the cave anymore. If he doesn’t exercise, he won’t be able to leave the cave.

  “What are you thinking about, Ayla? You’ve been so quiet lately.”

  “I was thinking about Creb. I’m worried about him.”

  “He’s getting old. He’s much older than mother, and she’s gone. I still miss her, Ayla. I’m going to hate it when Creb walks in the next world.”

  “So will I, Uba,” Ayla gestured with feeling.

  Ayla was restless. She hunted often, and when she wasn’t hunting, she worked with tireless energy. She couldn’t stand not having something to do. She sorted through the stores of medicinal plants and rearranged them, then scoured the countryside to replenish old or used-up medicines, then reorganized the whole hearth. She wove new baskets and mats, made wooden bowls and platters, containers of stiff rawhide or birchbark, made new wraps, cured and dressed new furs, then made leggings, hats, hand and foot coverings for the next winter. She waterproofed bladders and stomachs for water and other liquids, constructed a new frame firmly tied with thong and sinew to support skins for boiling over the fire. She nicked out flat stones to make a deeper well for fat for lamps, and she dried new moss wicks, knapped a new set of knives, scrapers, saws, borers, and axes, searched the seashore for shells to make spoons, ladles, and small dishes. She took her turn traveling with the hunters to dry the meat, gathered fruits, seeds, nuts, and vegetables with the women, winnowed and parched and ground grains to a superfine texture to make it easier for Creb and Durc to chew. And still she couldn’t find enough to do.

  Creb became the object of her intense interest. Ayla pampered him, cared for him as she never had before. She cooked special foods to encourage his appetite, made medicinal brews and poultices, made him rest in the sunshine, and coaxed him into long walks for exercise. He seemed to enjoy her attention and company and to regain some of his strength and verve. But there was something lacking. The special closeness, the easy warmth, the long rambling talks of earlier years were gone. They usually walked in silence. The conversation they did have was strained, and there were no spontaneous demonstrations of affection.

  Creb was not the only one growing old. The day that Brun watched the departing hunters from the ridge until they were tiny dots on the steppes below jolted Ayla into a sudden awareness of how much he had changed. His beard was not grizzled, it was gray, and it matched his hair. Deep wrinkles lined his face, cutting chasms into the skin at the corners of his eyes. His hard, muscular body had lost tone, his skin was more flaccid, though he was still powerful. He walked back to the cave slowly and spent the remainder of the day within the boundaries of his hearth. He went with the hunters the next time; but the second time Brun stayed behind, Grod did too, still the loyal lieutenant.

  One day near the end of summer, Durc came running into the cave.

  “Mama! Mama! A man! A man is coming!”

  Ayla rushed to the mouth of the cave, along with everyone else, to watch the stranger walking up the path from the seacoast.

  “Ayla, do you think he might be coming for you?” Uba gestured excitedly.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know any more than you, Uba.”

  Ayla’s nerves were taut, and her emotions mixed. She hoped the visitor was from the clan of Zoug’s kin, and afraid he would be. He stopped to talk to Brun, then walked with the leader to his hearth. Not long afterward, Ayla saw Ebra leave and head straight for her.

  “Brun wants you, Ayla,” she motioned.

  Ayla’s heart beat wildly. Her knees felt like water, she was sure they would never hold her up as she walked to Brun’s hearth. Gratefully she collapsed at Brun’s feet. He tapped her shoulder.

  “This is Vond, Ayla,” the leader said, motioning toward the visitor. “He has traveled far to see you, all the way from Norg’s clan. His mother is sick, and their medicine woman has not been able to help her. She thought you might know of magic that could help.”

  Ayla had established a reputation as a medicine woman of great skill and knowledge at the Clan Gathering. The man had come for her magic, not for her. Ayla’s relief overpowered her regret. Vond stayed only a few days, but he brought news of his clan. The young man who had been wounded by the cave bear had wintered with them. He left early the following spring, walking on his own legs, his limp hardly noticeable. His mate had given birth to a healthy son who was named Creb. Ayla questioned the man and prepared a packet for Vond to take back with him, along with instructions for their medicine woman. She didn’t know if her remedy would be any more effective, but he had come so far, at least she could try.

  Brun thought about Ayla after Vond left. He had put off making any decision about her while there was hope that some other clan might find her acceptable. But if one runner could find their cave, others could too, if they wished. After so long, he could no longer sustain any hope. Some arrangement would have to be made for her in his clan.

  But Broud would be leader soon, and he was the one who should take her. It would be best if that decision came from Broud himself, and as long as Mog-ur lived, there was no need to rush it. Brun decided to leave the problem for the son of his mate. He seems to have overcome his v
iolent emotions toward her, Brun thought. He never bothers her anymore. Perhaps he’s ready, perhaps he’s finally ready. But a seed of doubt still remained.

  The summer drew to its polychrome close and the clan settled down to the slower pace of the cold season. Uba’s pregnancy progressed normally until well beyond her second trimester. Then the stirrings of life stopped. She tried to ignore the growing ache in her back and the discomforting cramps, but when she began spotting blood, she hurried to Ayla.

  “How long has it been since you felt movement, Uba?” Ayla asked, concern etched on her face.

  “Not for many days, Ayla. What am I going to do? Vorn was so happy with me when life started so soon after we mated. I don’t want to lose my baby. What could have gone wrong? It’s so close. Spring will be here soon.”

  “I don’t know, Uba. Do you remember falling? Did you strain to lift something heavy?”

  “I don’t think so, Ayla.”

  “Go back to your hearth, Uba, and go to bed. I’ll boil some black birchbark and bring the tea to you. I wish it were fall—I’d get that rattlesnake root Iza got for me. But the snow is too deep to go very far now. I’ll try to think of something. You think about it, too, Uba. You know almost everything Iza knew.”

  “I have been thinking, Ayla, but I can’t remember anything that will start a baby kicking again once it’s stopped.”

  Ayla couldn’t answer. In her heart she knew as well as Uba that it was hopeless, and shared the young woman’s anguish.

  For the next several days, Uba lay in bed hoping against hope that something would help, and knowing there was nothing she could hope for. The pain in her back became almost unbearable, and the only medicines that stopped it were those that put her to sleep, a drugged unrestful sleep. But the cramps would not grow into contractions, labor would not start.

  Ovra almost lived at Vorn’s hearth, offering her empathetic support. She had been through the same ordeal herself so many times that she, more than anyone, could understand Uba’s pain and sorrow. Goov’s mate had never been able to bring a baby to full term and had become even more quiet and withdrawn as the years passed and she remained childless. Ayla was glad Goov was gentle with her. Many men would have turned her out, or taken a second woman. But Goov felt a deep attachment for his mate. He would not add to her grief by taking in another woman to have children for him. Ayla had begun to give Ovra the secret medicine Iza told her about that prevented her totem from being defeated. It was too hard on the woman to continue having pregnancies that produced no babies for her. Ayla didn’t tell her what the medicine was for, but after a time, when Ovra stopped conceiving, she guessed. It was better that way.