by Jean M. Auel
«You wet!» Uba motioned when she could get her arms free.
«Ayla, take off those wet clothes!» Iza said, and bustled around adding wood to the fire and finding something for the girl to wear, as much to cover the intensity of her emotions as to express maternal concern. «You'll catch your death of cold.» Iza glanced at the girl with embarrassment, suddenly realizing what she had said.
The girl smiled.
«You're right, mother. I will catch cold,» she gestured, and removed her wrap and hood. She sat down and began struggling to loosen the wet, swollen bindings of her footwear.
«I'm starved. Is there anything to eat? I haven't eaten all day,» she said after she had put on one of Iza's old wraps. It was a little small and too short, but it was dry. «I would have been back earlier, but I got caught in an avalanche coming down the mountain. I was lucky I didn't get buried under too much snow, but it took a long time to dig my way out.»
Iza's amazement lasted only a moment. Ayla could have said she walked through fire to return and Iza would have believed it. Her return itself was proof enough of her invincibility. What could one little avalanche do to her? The woman reached for Ayla's fur to hang it up to dry, but pulled her hand back suddenly, eyeing the unfamiliar deer hide suspiciously.
«Where did you get this wrap, Ayla?» she asked.
«I made it.»
«Is it…is it of this world?» the woman inquired apprehensively. Ayla smiled again.
«Very much of this world. Did you forget? I know how to hunt.» «Don't say that, Ayla!» Iza said nervously. She turned her back so the clan she knew was watching wouldn't see, and gestured inconspicuously. «You don't have a sling, do you?»
«No, I left it behind. But that doesn't change anything. Everyone knows it, Iza. I had to do something after Creb burned everything. The only way to get a wrap is to hunt.
Fur doesn't grow on willows, or fir, either.»
Creb had been watching silently, hardly daring to believe she was really back.
There were stories of people returning after a death curse, but he still didn't believe it was possible. There's something different about her; she's changed. She's more confident, more grown up. No wonder, after what she's been through. She remembers, too. She knows I burned her things. I wonder what else she remembers? What is it like in the world of the spirits?
«Spirits!» he motioned, suddenly remembering. The bones are still set! I must go break the curse.
Creb hurried away to break the pattern of cave bear bones still set in the form of a death curse. He snatched the torch burning outside the crack in the wall and went in, and gaped in surprise when he came to the small room beyond the short passage. The skull of the cave bear had moved, the long bone no longer protruded through the eye socket, the pattern was already broken.
Many small rodents shared the cave of the clan, drawn by the stored food and warmth. One of them had likely brushed past or jumped on the skull, tipping it over. Creb shuddered slightly, made a sign of protection, then moved the bones back to the pile at the far end. As he walked out, he saw Brun waiting for him.
«Brun,» Mog-ur gestured when he saw the man. «I can't believe it. You know I haven't been in here since I laid the curse. No one has. I just went in to break it, but it was already broken.» His expression held a look of wonder and awe.
«What do you think happened?»
«It must have been her totem. It's past the time; maybe he broke it so she could return,» the magician answered.
«You must be right.» The leader started to make another motion, then hesitated.
«Did you want to speak to me, Brun?»
«I want to talk to you alone.» He hesitated again. «Excuse my intrusion. I looked into your hearth. The girl's return was a surprise.»
Every member of the clan had broken the custom of averting eyes to avoid looking into another's hearth. They couldn't help it. They had never seen someone who had returned from the dead before.
«It's understandable, under the circumstances. You don't have to be concerned,» Mog-ur replied and started to move on.
«That's not what I wanted to see you about,» Brun said, putting out a hand to detain the old magician. «I want to ask you about ceremonies.» Mog-ur waited expectantly, watching Brun grope for words. «A ceremony now that she's back.» «No ceremonies are necessary, the danger is over. The evil ones are gone, there's no need for protection.»
«I don't mean that kind of ceremony.»
«What kind do you mean?»
Brun hesitated again, then started in a new direction. «I watched her talking to you and Iza. Do you notice a difference in her, Mog-ur?»
«What do you mean, a difference?» Mog-ur signaled warily, unsure of Brun's intent.
«She has a strong totem; Droog always said she was lucky. He thinks her totem brings us luck, too. He might be right. She would never have come back without luck and strong protection. I think she knows it, now. That's what I meant by different.» «Yes, I think I noticed a difference like that. But I still don't understand what it has to do with ceremonies.»
«Remember the meeting we had after the mammoth hunt?»
«You mean when you were questioning her?»
«No, the one after, without her. I've been thinking about that meeting ever since she left. I didn't think she would come back, but I knew if she did, it would mean her totem is very strong, even more powerful than we thought. I've been thinking about what we should do if she did come back.»
«What we should do? There's nothing we have to do. The evil spirits are gone, Brun. She's back, but she's no different than she always was. She's just a girl, nothing has changed.»
«But what if I want to change something? Is there a ceremony for that?» Mog-ur was puzzled. «A ceremony for what? You don't need a ceremony to change the way you act toward her. What kind of change? I can't tell you about ceremonies if I don't know what they're for.»
«Her totem is a clan totem, too, isn't it? Shouldn't we try to keep all the totems happy? I want you to hold a ceremony, Mog-ur, but you have to tell me if there is such a ceremony.»
«Brun, you're not making sense.»
Brun threw up his hands, abandoning his attempt to communicate. While Ayla was gone, he'd had the time to mull over the many new ideas some of the men had put forth. But the disconcerting result of his musings intruded uncomfortably into the clan leader's mind.
«The whole thing doesn't make sense, how can I make sense out of it? Whoever expected her to come back, anyway? I don't understand spirits, I never have. I don't know what they want, that's what you're here for. But you're not much help! The whole idea is ridiculous anyway. I'd better think about it again.»
Brun turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving behind a very confused magician.
He turned back after a few steps.
«Tell the girl I want to see her,» he signaled and continued on to his hearth.
Creb shook his head as he returned to his own hearth. «Brun wants to see Ayla,» he announced when he got back.
«Did he say he wanted to see her right away?» Iza asked, pushing more food in front of her. «He won't mind if she finishes eating, will he?» «I'm through, mother. I can't eat another bite. I'll go now.» Ayla walked to the next hearth and sat at the feet of the leader of the clan with her head bowed. He had on the same foot coverings that were worn and creased in the same places. The last time she had looked at those feet, she was terrified. She was no longer terrified. To her surprise, she didn't fear Brun at all, but she respected him more. She waited. It seemed to be taking an extraordinarily long time for him to acknowledge her.
Finally, she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up.
«I see you're back, Ayla,» he began lamely. He didn't quite know what to say.
«Yes, Brun.»
«I'm surprised to see you. I didn't expect it.»
«This girl did not expect to be back, either.»
Brun was at a loss. He wanted to talk to her,
but he didn't know what to say, and he didn't know how to end the audience he had requested. Ayla waited, then made a gesture of request.
«This girl would speak, Brun.»
«You may speak.»
She hesitated, trying to find the right expression to say what she wanted to say.
«This girl is glad to be back, Brun. More than once I was frightened, more than once I was sure I would never return.»
Brun grunted. I'm sure of that, he thought.
«It was difficult, but I think my totem protected me. At first, there was so much work to do, I didn't have much time to think. But after I was trapped, I didn't have much else to do.»
Work? Trapped? What kind of world is the spirit world? Brun almost asked her, then changed his mind. He didn't really want to know.
«I think I began to understand something then.»
Ayla stopped, still groping. She wanted to express a feeling that was akin to gratitude, but not the way gratitude was normally felt, not gratitude that carried a sense of obligation or the kind a woman usually expressed to a man. She wanted to say something to him as a person, she wanted to tell him she understood. She wanted to say thank you, thank you for giving me a chance, but she didn't quite know how.
«Brun, this girl is…is grateful to you. You said that to me. You said you were grateful for Brac's life. I am grateful to you for my own.»
Brun leaned back and studied the girl-tall, flat-faced, blue-eyed. The last thing he expected was her gratitude. He had cursed her. But she didn't say she was grateful for the death curse, he thought, she said she was grateful for her life. Did she understand he had no choice? Did she understand he had given her the only chance he could? Did this strange girl understand that more than his hunters, more even than Mog-ur? Yes, he decided, she does understand. For an instant, Brun had a feeling toward Ayla he'd never before had toward a woman. At that moment, he wished she were a man. He didn't have to think any more about what he wanted to ask Mog-ur. He knew.
«I don't know what they're planning, I don't think the rest of the hunters even know,» Ebra was saying. «All I know is I've never seen Brun so nervous.»
The women were sitting together preparing food for a feast. They didn't know the reason for the feast-Brun just told them to prepare a feast that night-and they plied Iza and Ebra with questions trying to get some hint.
«Mog-ur has been spending all day and half the night in the place of the spirits. It must be a ceremony. While Ayla was gone, he wouldn't go near it; now he hardly ever comes out,» Iza commented. «When he does, he's so absentminded he forgets to eat. Sometimes he forgets to eat while he's eating.»
«But if they're having a ceremony, why did Brun work half a day clearing out a space in back of the cave?» Ebra motioned. «When I offered to do it, he chased me away.
They have their place for ceremonies; why would he work like a woman clearing out the back?»
«What else could it be?» Iza asked. «Seems like every time I look, Brun and Mogur have their heads together. And if they notice me, they stop talking and have guilty looks on their faces. What else could those two be planning? And why are we having a feast tonight? Mog-ur's been back in that space Brun cleared out all day. Sometimes he goes into the place of the spirits, but he comes right back out again. It looks like he's carrying something, but it's so dark back there I can't tell.» Ayla was just enjoying the companionship. After five days, it was still hard for her to believe she was back in the cave of the clan sitting with the women preparing food just as though she had never been away. It wasn't exactly the same. The women were not entirely comfortable around her. They thought she had been dead; her return to life was nothing less than miraculous. They didn't know what to say to someone who had gone to the world of the spirits and returned. Ayla didn't mind, she was just glad to be back. She watched Brac toddling up to his mother to nurse.
«How's Brac's arm, Oga?» she asked the young mother sifting beside her.
«See for yourself, Ayla.» She opened his wrap and showed Ayla his arm and shoulder. «Iza took the cast off the day before you came back. His arm is just fine, except a little thinner than the other one. Iza says once he starts using it again, it will get stronger.»
Ayla looked at the healed wounds and felt the bone gently while the sober, bigeyed boy stared at her. The women had been careful to steer away from subjects that were remotely connected with Ayla's curse. Often someone would begin a conversation, then drop her hands in midsentence seeing where it was leading. It tended to stifle the warm communication that was usual when the women gathered together to work.
«The scars are still red, but they should fade in time,» Ayla said, then looked at the child. «Are you strong, Brac?» He nodded. «Show me how strong. Can you pull my arm down?» She held out her forearm. «No, not with that hand, the other one,» she corrected when he reached up with the uninjured arm. Brac changed hands and pulled against her arm. Ayla resisted just enough to feel the strength of his pull, then let her arm be lowered. «You are a strong boy, Brac. Someday you will be a brave hunter, just like Broud.»
She held out her arms to see if he would come to her. At first he turned away, then changed his mind and allowed Ayla to pick him up. She held him up in the air, then cuddled him in her lap. «Brac is a big boy. So heavy, so sturdy.» He stayed there comfortably for a few moments, but when he discovered she had nothing to feed him with, he squirmed to get back to his mother, reached for her breast, and began to nurse, staring at Ayla with big, round eyes.
«You're so lucky, Oga. He's a wonderful baby.»
«I wouldn't be so lucky if it wasn't for you, Ayla.» Oga had finally broached the subject they had painstakingly avoided. «I never told you how grateful I am. First I was too worried about him, and I didn't know what to say. You didn't seem to want to talk much, either, and then you were gone. I still don't know what to say. I never expected to see you again; it's hard to believe you're back. It was wrong for you to touch a weapon, and I can't understand why you wanted to hunt, but I'm glad you did. I can't tell you how much. I felt so awful when you were…when you had to go, but I'm happy you're back.» «I am too,» Ebra added. The other women nodded in agreement.
Ayla was overwhelmed by their unconditional acceptance of her and struggled to control tears that wanted to flow much too easily. She was afraid the women would be uncomfortable if her eyes watered.
«I'm glad to be back,» she motioned, and the tears escaped her control. Iza now knew her eyes watered when she felt strongly about something, not because she was sick.
The women, too, had grown accustomed to that peculiarity of hers and had come to know the meaning of her tears. They only nodded with understanding.
«How was it, Ayla?» Oga asked, her eyes full of troubled compassion. Ayla thought for a moment.
«Lonely,» she answered. «Very lonely. I missed everyone so much.» The women's eyes held such pity, Ayla had to say something to change the mood. «I even missed Broud,» she added.
«Hhmmf,» Aga said. «That was pretty lonely.» Then she glanced at Oga, a little embarrassed.
«I know he can be difficult,» Oga admitted. «But Broud is my mate, and he's not so bad to me.»
«No, don't apologize for him, Oga,» Ayla said gently. «Everyone knows Broud cares for you. You should be proud to be his mate. He's going to be leader, and he's a brave hunter, he was even the first to wound the mammoth. You can't help it if he doesn't like me. Some of it is my fault; I haven't always behaved as I should to him. I don't know how it started and I don't know how to end it; I would if I could, but that's not anything you should worry about.»
«He always did have a temper,» Ebra commented. «He's not like Brun. I knew Mog-ur was right when he said Broud's totem was the Woolly Rhinoceros. I think in some ways you helped him to control his temper, Ayla. It will make him a better leader.» «I don't know,» Ayla shook her head. «If I wasn't around, I don't think he'd lose it so much. I think I bring out the worst in him.»
&
nbsp; A strained silence followed. Women did not ordinarily discuss the real failings of their men so openly, but the discussion had cleared the air of tension around the girl. Iza wisely decided it was time to drop the subject.
«Does anyone know where the yams are?» she motioned. «I think they were in the place Brun cleared out,» Ebra answered. «We may not find them until next summer.» Broud noticed Ayla sitting with the women and frowned when he saw her examine Brac and hold him in her lap. It made him remember it was she who had saved the boy's life, and that reminded him that she had been witness to his humiliation. Broud had been as overwhelmed by her return as the rest of them. The first day he viewed her with awe, and some apprehension. But the change that Creb had interpreted as growing maturity, and Brun had seen as her sense of her own luck, Broud took as flagrant insolence. During her trial by snow, Ayla had gained not only the confidence that she could survive, but a serene acceptance of life's noisome trivialities. After her ordeal, with its life-and-death struggles, nothing as insignificant as a reprimand, whose effectiveness had long since worn thin from overuse, could ruffle her placid composure.
Ayla had missed Broud. In her utter isolation, even his harassment would have, been preferable to the stark emptiness of total invisibility to people who loved her. The first few days, she positively relished his close, if abusive, attention. He not only saw her, he saw every move she made.
By the third day of her return, old patterns reestablished themselves but with a difference. Ayla didn't have to fight herself to bend to his will, her response didn't even have the undercurrent of subtle condescension. She was genuinely unmoved. He could do nothing to disturb her. He could cuff and curse and work himself up to the edge of explosive violence. It had absolutely no effect. She patiently acquiesced to his most unreasonable demands. Though it was unintentional, Ayla was giving Broud a small measure of the ostracism she had been dealt in such abundance. She excluded him from her responses. His most towering rage, controlled only by supreme expenditures of effort, was met with no more reaction than the bite of a flea; less, for a fleabite is at least scratched. It was the worst thing she could do, she infuriated him.
