The Clan of the Cave Bear

by Jean M. Auel

  Carefully, she pulled herself to her knees and finally to her feet, standing only a foot or so below the level of the surrounding snow. She took a couple of short steps forward, stamping the snow down as she went. Her foot coverings were loose-fitting circles of leather gathered together at the ankle, and two pair made for somewhat clumsy walking, the second pair fitting even more loosely over the first in a ballooning effect. While not exactly snowshoes, they did tend to spread her weight over a larger area, and they made it easier for her to keep from floundering too deeply into the light powder snow.

  But the going was hard. Stamping down as she went, taking short steps, occasionally sinking in up to her hips, she worked her way toward the place where the creek had been. The snow covering the frozen water wasn’t as deep. The wind had piled a huge drift against the wall that held her cave, but in other areas it had swept the ground almost bare. She stopped there, trying to make up her mind whether to follow the frozen creek to the stream and then to the cave in the long way around, or take the steeper, more direct way down to the cave. She was eager, she could hardly wait to get back, and she decided on the shorter way. She didn’t know how much more dangerous it would be.

  Ayla started out carefully, but it was slow and difficult to pick her way down. By the time the sun was high in the sky, she was barely halfway down the route that in summer she could clamber down in the time it took to go from early twilight to dark. It was cold, but the bright rays of the noon sun warmed the snow, and she was getting tired and a little careless.

  She started over a bare, windswept ridge that led to a steep, smooth, snow-covered slope, and skidded on a patch of scree. The loose gravel kicked loose a few larger rocks, which jolted a few more from their place. The rocks slammed into a mound of snow, jarring it from its insecure footing at the same time that Ayla lost hers. In an instant, she found herself sliding and rolling down the slope, swimming through a cascade of falling snow, amid the thunderous rumbling of an avalanche.

  Creb was lying awake when Iza silently appeared with a cup of hot tea.

  “I knew you were awake, Creb. I thought you might like something hot before you got up. The storm broke last night.”

  “I know, I can see blue sky around the wall.”

  They sat together sipping tea. They often sat quietly together lately. The hearth felt empty without Ayla. It was hard to believe one girl could leave so large a void. Creb and Iza tried to fill it with closeness, deriving comfort from contact with each other, but it was small comfort. Uba moped and whined. No one could convince the child Ayla was dead; she kept asking for her. She would toy with her food, wasting half by spilling or dropping it. Then she’d get cranky and want more, driving Iza to distraction until she lost her temper and scolded, and was immediately sorry. The woman’s cough had returned, keeping her awake half the night.

  Creb had aged more than it seemed possible in so short a time. He had not gone near the small cave since the day he set the white bones of the cave bear in two parallel rows, the last one on the left poking into the base of a bear skull and out its left eye socket, and spoke aloud the names of the evil spirits in clipped, gruff syllables, giving them recognition and power. He could not bring himself to look upon those bones again and had no desire to use the beautiful flowing movements used to commune with more beneficent spirits. He had been giving serious consideration to stepping down and turning the function of mog-ur over to Goov. Brun tried to convince him to reconsider when the old magician brought it up.

  “What will you do, Mog-ur?”

  “What does any man do when he retires? I’m getting too old to sit for long times in that cold cave. My rheumatism is getting worse.”

  “Don’t be hasty, Creb,” the leader motioned gently. “Think about it for a while.”

  Creb thought about it and had just about decided to announce it that day.

  “I think I’ll let Goov become the mog-ur, Iza,” Creb motioned to the woman sitting beside him.

  “That can only be your decision, Creb,” she replied. She didn’t try to talk him out of it. She knew he had no heart for it anymore, since the day he laid the death curse on Ayla, though it had been his entire life.

  “It’s past the time, isn’t it, Creb?” Iza asked.

  “Yes, it’s past the time, Iza.”

  “How would she know it’s past the time? No one could see the moon with that storm.”

  Creb thought about the time he showed a small girl how to count the years until she could have a baby, and about the older one who counted the days of the moon’s cycle herself. “If she were alive, she’d know, Iza.”

  “But the storm was so bad. No one could go out in it.”

  “Don’t think about it. Ayla is dead.”

  “I know it, Creb,” Iza said with hopeless gestures. Creb looked at his sibling, thought about her grief, and wanted to give her something, some gesture of understanding.

  “I shouldn’t say this, Iza, but it’s past the time; her spirit has left this world and the evil ones, too. There’s no harm anymore. Her spirit talked to me before it left, Iza. It said she loved me. It was so real, I almost gave in to it. But the spirit of a cursed one is the most dangerous. It always tries to trick you into believing it is real so it can take you with it. I almost wish I had gone.”

  “I know, Creb. When her spirit called me mother, I … I …” Iza flung up her hands, she couldn’t go on.

  “Her spirit pleaded with me not to burn the medicine bag, Iza. Water came to its eyes, just like when she was alive. That was the worst. I think if I hadn’t already thrown it in the fire, I would have given it to her. It was the last trick, though. That’s when it finally left.”

  Creb got up, wrapped himself in his fur, and reached for his staff. Iza watched him; he seldom left the hearth anymore. He walked to the cave entrance and stood for a long time, staring out at the glistening snow. He didn’t return until Iza sent Uba to tell him to come and eat. He returned to his post shortly afterward. Iza joined him later.

  “It’s cold here, Creb. You shouldn’t stand in the wind like that,” she motioned.

  “It’s the first time there’s been a clear sky for days. It’s a relief to see something besides a howling blizzard.”

  “Yes, but come to the fire and get warm once in a while.”

  Creb hobbled back and forth from his hearth to the entrance several times, standing for long periods looking out at the winter scene. But as the day wore on, he went there less and less. At the evening meal, when twilight was fading into darkness, he motioned to Iza. “I’m going over to Brun’s hearth after we finish eating. I’m going to tell him that Goov will be mog-ur from now on.”

  “Yes, Creb,” she said with bowed head. It was hopeless. Now she was sure it was hopeless.

  Creb stood up while Iza was putting the food away. Suddenly a frightened scream came from Brun’s hearth. Iza looked up. A strange apparition stood at the entrance to the cave, completely covered with snow and stamping its feet.

  “Creb,” Iza cried. “What is it?”

  Creb stared hard for a moment, on guard against strange spirits. Then his eye opened wide.

  “It’s Ayla!” he shouted and hobbled toward her; forgetting his staff, forgetting his dignity, and forgetting every custom against showing emotions outside one’s hearth, he threw his arm around the girl and hugged her to his breast.

  17

  “Ayla? Is it really Ayla, Creb? It’s not her spirit?” Iza motioned as the old man led the snow-covered girl back to his hearth. She was afraid to believe it, afraid the very real-looking girl would turn out to be a mirage.

  “It’s Ayla,” Creb gestured. “It’s past the time. She has overcome the evil spirits; she has returned to us.”

  “Ayla!” Iza ran to her, arms open wide, and enfolded the girl in a fierce loving embrace, wet snow and all. Not only snow made them wet. Ayla cried enough tears of joy for all of them. Uba tugged at the girl as she was clenched in Iza’s arms.

&nbs
p; “Ayla. Ayla come back. Uba know Ayla not dead!” the child asserted with the conviction of one who knew she was right all along. Ayla picked her up and held her so tight, Uba squirmed to get loose and catch her breath.

  “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. S
he 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.”