The Lion Camp returned to Cattail Camp to discuss the unexpected crisis. An initial suggestion to leave immediately was quickly abandoned. They were, after all, Mamutoi, and this was the Summer Meeting. Tulie had stopped by for Latie so that she could be included in the discussions, and prepared for the possibility of unkind comments directed at her, Ayla, or the Lion Camp. She was asked if she wanted to delay her womanhood rites. Latie defended Ayla vehemently, and decided she would return to the special Camp for the ceremony and ritual, and just let anyone try to say anything bad about Ayla, or the Lion Camp.
Then Tulie asked Ayla why she hadn’t mentioned her son before. Ayla explained she didn’t like to talk about him because it still hurt too much, and Nezzie quickly made it clear that she had been told in the very beginning. Mamut also admitted to knowing about him. Though the headwoman wished she had known and wondered why she was not told, she did not blame Ayla. She considered whether she would have thought about the young woman any differently, had she known, and admitted she might not have credited her with as much potential value or status. Then she began to question her position. Why should it make a difference? Was Ayla any different?
Rydag was very upset and depressed, and nothing Nezzie said or did seemed to help. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go out of the tent, wouldn’t communicate except to respond to a direct question. He would only sit and hug the wolf. Nezzie was grateful for the animal’s patience. Ayla decided to see if there was anything she could do. She found him sitting with the wolf on his sleeping roll in a dark corner. Wolf lifted his head, and banged his tail on the ground at her approach.
“Is it all right if I sit down here with you, Rydag?” she asked.
He shrugged an assent. She sat beside him and asked how he felt, speaking aloud to him, but automatically signing the words, too, until she realized it was probably too dark to see. It struck her then, the real advantage to being able to speak with words. It wasn’t that you couldn’t speak as well with signals and hand signs, it was that you weren’t limited by only what you could see.
It was like the difference between thrusting with a spear when hunting, like the Clan did, or throwing it. Both were effective weapons for bringing meat home, but one had greater range and possibilities. She had seen how useful motions and signs, which were not understood by everyone, could be, particularly for secret or private communication, but overall, there was a greater advantage in speaking with words that could be heard and understood. With a full verbal language, you could speak to someone who was behind a barrier, or in a different room, or even shout across a distance, or to a large group. You could speak when someone’s back was turned, or when you were holding something, which freed the hands for other purposes, and you could speak softly in the dark.
Ayla sat quietly with the boy for some time, not asking questions, just offering closeness and company. After a while, she started talking to him, telling Rydag about the time she lived with the Clan.
“In some ways, this Meeting reminds me of the Clan Gathering,” Ayla said. “Here, even if I look the same as everyone, I feel different. There, I was different … taller than any of the men by then … just a big ugly woman. It was awful when we first got there. They almost weren’t going to let Brun’s clan stay because they brought me. They said I wasn’t Clan, but Creb insisted that I was. He was the Mog-ur, and they didn’t dare dispute him. It’s a good thing Durc was only a baby. When they saw him, they thought he was deformed, and they all stared. You know how it feels. But he wasn’t deformed. He was just a mixture, like you are. Or maybe you are more like Ura. Her mother was Clan.”
“You say before, Ura will join with Durc?” Rydag asked, turning toward the light from the fire to make his motions seen. He was intrigued in spite of himself.
“Yes. Her mother came to me, and it was arranged. She was so relieved to know there was another child, a boy, like her daughter. She was so afraid Ura would never find a mate. To be honest, I didn’t think about it much. I was just grateful that Durc was accepted into the Clan.”
“Durc is Clan? He is mixed, but Clan?” the boy signed.
“Yes, Brun accepted him, Creb named him. Not even Broud can take that away from him. And everyone loves him—except Broud—even Oga, Broud’s mate. She nursed him, when I lost my milk, right along with her son, Grev. They grew up together like brothers, and they are good friends. Old Grod made Durc a little spear, just his size.” Ayla smiled at the memory. “Uba loves him best, though. Uba is my sister, like you and Rugie. She is Durc’s mother now. I gave him to Uba when Broud made me leave. He may look a little different, but yes, Durc is Clan.”
“I hate it here,” Rydag motioned with vehement anger. “I wish I am Durc and live with Clan.”
Rydag’s comment startled Ayla. Even after they talked more, and she finally convinced him to eat something, and then tucked him into his bed, it stayed on her mind.
Ranec watched Ayla all evening. He noticed how she would stop in the middle of some activity, like lifting a bite of food to her mouth, for example, while her eyes glazed over with a faraway look, or a frown of concentration creased her forehead. He knew her thoughts were weighing heavily on her mind, and he wanted so much to comfort her, share them with her.
Everyone stayed at Cattail Camp that night, and the tent was crowded. Ranec waited until Ayla finally started to slide into her fur bedroll, then he quickly went to his.
“Will you share my furs tonight, Ayla?” Ranec watched her close her eyes and frown. “I don’t mean for Pleasures,” he added quickly, “unless you want to. I know this has been a hard day for you …”
“I think it’s been harder for Lion Camp,” Ayla said.
“I don’t think it’s been any harder, but that doesn’t matter. I just want to give you something, Ayla. My furs to keep you warm, my love to comfort you. I want to be close to you tonight.”
She nodded acquiescence, and slid into Ranec’s bedroll with him, but she could not sleep, could not even rest comfortably, and he was aware of it.
“Ayla, what’s troubling you? Would you like to talk about it?” Ranec said.
“I’ve been thinking about Rydag, and my son, but I don’t know if I can talk about it. I just need to think about it.”
“You’d rather be in your own bed, wouldn’t you?” he finally said.
“I know you want to help, Ranec, and that in itself helps more than I can say. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me when I saw you there, standing beside me. I am so grateful to the Lion Camp, too. Everyone has been so good, so wonderful to me, almost too wonderful. I learned so much from them, and I was so proud to be Mamutoi, to say they were my people. I thought all the Others—the ones I used to call the Others—were like the Lion Camp, but now I know that isn’t true. Like the Clan, most people are good people, but not everyone, and even good people are not good about everything. I had some ideas and … I was making some plans … but, I need to think, now.”
“And you can think better in your own bed, not cramped in here with me. Go ahead, Ayla, you’ll still be next to me,” Ranec said.
Ranec wasn’t the only one who had been watching Ayla, and when Jondalar saw her get out of Ranec’s bedroll and into her own, he had a strange set of mixed feelings. He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to grit his teeth against the sounds of them sharing Pleasures, but he felt a pang of regret for Ranec. If he had been in the dark carver’s place, he would have wanted to hold Ayla, and comfort her, try to take on some of her pain. It would have hurt him if she had left his bed to sleep alone.
After Ranec fell asleep and a deep stillness settled on the Camp, Ayla quietly got up, slipped on a light parka against the nighttime chill, and went outside into the dark starlit night. In a moment, Wolf was beside her. They walked toward the horse lean-to, and were welcomed by a nicker from Racer, and a soft blow of recognition from Whinney. After patting and scratching, and quiet words, Ayla put her arms around Whinney’s neck, and leaned on her.
How many times had the hay-colored mare been her friend when she needed one? Ayla smiled. What would the Clan think of her friends? Two horses and a wolf! She was grateful for their presence, their company, but there was still an emptiness inside her. Someone was missing, the one she wanted most. Yet he had been there. Even before the Lion Camp stood up for her. She didn’t even know where he came from. Suddenly Jondalar was just there, beside her, standing against them all. Against their repugnance, their disgust. It had been terrible, worse than the Clan Gathering. It wasn’t just that she was different. They feared her, hated her. That’s what he’d been trying to tell her all along. But even if she’d known, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She couldn’t let them pick on Rydag, or malign her son.
From the opening of the tent, another pair of eyes watched her. Jondalar could not sleep either. He had seen her get up, and quietly followed her. How many times had he seen her like that with Whinney? He was happy that she had the animals to turn to, but he ached to be in the mare’s place. But it was too late. She didn’t want him, and he couldn’t blame her. With a sudden realization, he saw through his emotional confusion, saw his actions with a new clarity, and realized that he had done it himself. In the very beginning, he wasn’t just being “fair” and letting her make her own choice. He had turned away from her, out of petty jealousy. He was hurt, and wanted to hurt back.
There was more to it than that, admit it, Jondalar, he said to himself. You were hurt, but you knew how she was raised. She didn’t even understand your jealousy. When she went to Ranec’s bed that night, she was only being a “good Clan woman.” That was the real problem, her Clan background. You were ashamed of it. You were ashamed to love her, afraid you would have to face what she faced today. You didn’t know if you could stand up for her. No matter how much you said you loved her, you were afraid you’d turn against her, too. Well, there is no shame in loving her, the shame is in your own cowardice. And now it’s too late. She didn’t need you. She stood up for herself, and then the whole Lion Camp stood up for her. She doesn’t need you at all, and you don’t deserve her.
Finally the chill drove Ayla back in. She glanced toward Jondalar’s sleeping place when she entered the tent. He was rolled over on his side, facing the other way. She slipped into her bed, and felt a heavy, sleeping hand reach for her. Ranec did love her, she knew that. And she loved him, too, in her own way. She lay still, and listened to Ranec’s steady breathing. After a while he rolled the other way and the hand was gone.
Ayla tried to sleep, but she couldn’t stop thinking. She had wanted to go for Durc and bring him back to Lion Camp to live with her. Now she questioned if that would be best for him. Would he be happier here with her than he would be living with the Clan? Could he be happy living with people who would hate him? Who would call him a flathead and worse, a half-animal abomination? With the Clan, he was known, and loved; he was one of them. Maybe Broud hated him, but even at the Clan Gathering, he would have friends. He was accepted, he would be allowed to join in the competitions, and the ceremonies—did Durc have the Clan memories? she wondered.
If she couldn’t take him away, could she go back to the Clan and live? Now that she had found people like herself, could she ever accept Clan ways, again? They would never allow her to keep her animals. Would she be willing to give up Whinney and Racer, and Wolf, and be only Durc’s mother? Does Durc need a mother? He was a baby when I left, but he’s not a baby any more. By now, Brun is teaching him to hunt.
He has probably made his first small kills, and brought them back to show Uba. Ayla smiled to herself at the picture that evoked. Uba would praise him so highly, and tell him what a brave, strong hunter he is.
Durc has a mother! she realized. Uba is his mother. Uba has raised him, taken care of him, nursed his little cuts and scrapes. How can I take him away from her? Who would take care of her when she gets old? Even when he was a baby, the other women in the clan were more mother to him than I was after I lost my milk.
How can I go back and get him, anyway? I am cursed. To the Clan, I am Dead! If Durc saw me, I would only frighten him, and everyone else. Even if there was no death curse on me, would he be happy to see me? Would he even remember me?
He was hardly more than a baby when I left. By now, he is at the Clan Gathering and has met Ura. He’s young yet, but he must be thinking about the time when they will mate. He is planning to make a hearth—just as I am, she thought. Even if I could convince him I wasn’t a spirit, Durc would have to bring Ura with him, and Ura would be miserable here. It will be difficult enough for her to leave her own clan and live with Durc and his clan, but to move into a world in which nothing was familiar would be so much worse. Especially a world where she would be hated and misunderstood.
What if I went back to the valley? And then brought Durc and Ura to live there? But Durc needs people … and so do I. I don’t want to live alone, why should Durc want to live alone in a valley with me?
I’ve been thinking of myself, not Durc. It would not be better for him to come here. It would not make him happy. It would only make me happy. But I am not Durc’s mother any more. Uba is his mother. I am nothing to him but a memory of a mother who died, and maybe it’s better that way. The Clan is his world, and like it or not, this is my world. I cannot go back to the Clan; Durc cannot come here. There is no place in this world where my son and I can live together, and be happy.
Ayla woke early the next morning. Even after she did finally go to sleep, she did not sleep well. She woke often from dreams of shaking earth and crumbling caves, and felt uneasy and depressed. She helped Nezzie heat water for soup and grind grains for a morning meal, and was glad for the opportunity to talk with her.
“I feel terrible about all the trouble I’ve caused, Nezzie. The whole Lion Camp is being shunned because of me,” Ayla said.
“Don’t even say that. It’s not your fault, Ayla. We had a choice, and we made it. You were only defending Rydag, and he is a member of Lion Camp, too, at least to us.”
“All this trouble has made me realize something,” Ayla continued. “Ever since I left the Clan, I’ve always thought about going back to get my son someday. Now I know I never can. I can’t bring him here, and I can’t go back there. But knowing that I’ll never see him makes me feel that I just lost him all over again. I wish I could cry, grieve for him, mourn for him, but I just feel dry and empty.”
Nezzie was sorting through yesterday’s fresh-picked berries and pulling off the stems. She stopped and gave Ayla a level gaze. “Everyone suffers disappointments in life. Everyone loses loved ones. Some are real tragedies. You lost your people when you were young. That was a tragedy, but there was nothing you could do about it. It’s worse if you blame yourself. Wymez lives every day of his life blaming himself for the death of the woman he loved. I think Jondalar blames himself for his brother’s death. You’ve lost a son. It is hard for a mother to lose a child, but you do have something. You know he is probably still alive. Rydag lost his mother … someday I will lose him.”
After breakfast, Ayla went out. Most people were staying around Cattail Camp. She looked toward the center of the Meeting, then at Larch Camp, the newly set up summer home of the Mammoth Camp. She was surprised to see Avarie looking across at her. She wondered how they felt today about setting up the Camp so close to Lion Camp.
Avarie went to the tent her brother had designated as the Mammoth Hearth, scratched on the leather, then without waiting for a response, went in. Vincavec had spread his fur bedroll out so that it took up almost half the floor space. In the middle was a backrest, an ornately decorated hide stretched across a mammoth bone frame that had been lashed together with rawhide. He was sitting up on his furs, lounging against the backrest.
“The feelings are mixed,” she said without preamble.
“I can imagine,” Vincavec replied. “Lion Camp worked hard with us putting up the lodge. By the time they left, everyone was feeling more than friendly toward them. And Ayla with her horses and wolf was fascinating—and a little awe-inspiring. But now, if old stories and customs are to be believed, Lion Camp is sheltering an abomination, a woman of unbridled evil, who draws animal flathead spirits to her like a fire draws moths at night, and spreads them around to the other women. What do you think, Avarie?”
“I don’t know, Vincavec. I like Ayla, and she doesn’t seem like an evil person to me. The boy doesn’t seem like an animal, either. He’s just weak and can’t talk, but I do believe he understands. Maybe he is human, and maybe the other flatheads are, too. Maybe the old Mamut is right. The Mother just chose a spirit from the only men near Ayla when She gave her a baby. I didn’t know she lived with a pack of flatheads once, though, or that the old man did.”
“That old man has lived so many years, he’s forgotten more things than a double handful of younger men have ever learned, and he’s often right. I have a feeling about this, Avarie. I don’t think it will have lasting bad effects. There is something about Ayla that makes me think the Mother watches out for her. I think she may come out of this more powerful than she was before. Let’s find out how Mammoth Camp feels about siding with Lion Camp.”
* * *
“Where’s Tulie?” Fralie asked, looking around the tent.
“She went with Latie back to the Womanhood Camp,” Nezzie said. “Why?”
“Do you remember that Camp that came offering to adopt Ayla, just before Mammoth Camp arrived?”
Ayla looked at Fralie questioningly.
“Yes,” Nezzie said. “The one Tulie didn’t think had enough to offer.”
“They are outside asking for Tulie, again.”
“I’ll go see what they want,” Nezzie said.
Ayla waited inside, not really wanting to face them, if she didn’t have to. After a few moments, Nezzie returned.
“They still want to adopt you, Ayla,” she said. “The headwoman of that Camp has four sons. They want you for a sister. She says if you have already had one son, it proves you are capable of having children. They have increased their offer. Maybe you should go out and welcome them, in the name of the Mother.”
Tulie and Latie walked with purposeful strides through the encampment, side by side, looking straight ahead, ignoring the curious stares of the people they passed.
“Tulie! Latie! Wait a moment,” Brecie called out, hurrying to catch up with them. “We were just getting ready to send a runner to you, Tulie. We’d like to invite you to share a meal with us at Willow Camp this evening.”
“Thank you, Brecie. I appreciate your invitation. Of course we’ll come. I should have known we could count on you.”
“We’ve been friends a long time, Tulie. Sometimes old tales are believed just because they are old. Fralie’s baby looks fine to me.”
“And she was born early, too. Bectie wouldn’t even be alive, if it wasn’t for Ayla,” Latie said, quick to defend her friend.
“I did wonder where she came from, though. Everyone thought she came with Jondalar. They are both tall and blond, but I knew better. I remember when we pulled him and his brother out of the muck near Beran Sea. She wasn’t with them, then, and I knew that wasn’t a Mamutoi accent, or a Sungaea accent either. But I still don’t know how she controls those horses and that wolf.”
Tulie was feeling much better as they continued toward the center of the hollow, and the earthlodges of Wolf Camp.
“How many does that make?” Tarneg asked Barzec as another delegation was leaving.
“Almost half the Camps have made some gesture of reconciliation,” Barzec said. “I can think of one or two more who might still decide to join with us.”
“But that still leaves about half the Camps,” Talut said. “And some of them are arguing pretty hard against us. Some are even saying we should leave.”
“Yes, but look who they are, and Chaleg is the only one I’ve heard who is saying we should leave,” Tarneg said.
“But they’re Mamutoi, too, and even seeds blown by ill winds can take root, Nezzie said.
“I don’t like this split,” Talut said. “There are too many good people on both sides. I wish I could think of some way to make it right again.”
“Ayla feels terrible, too. She says that she’s causing problems for Lion Camp. Did you see the look on her face when those youngsters that were fighting started calling her ‘animal woman?’ ”
“Do you mean the ones that we caught by the ri—?” Danug started to ask, but Tarneg quickly interrupted.
“She means the brother and sister that Ayla and Deegie caught hitting each other.” Danug would have to be careful. He had almost slipped and mentioned something about the boys that were fighting, Tarneg thought.
“I’ve never seen Rydag so upset,” Nezzie continued. “Every year the Meetings have been harder on him. He doesn’t like the way people treat him, but this year is worse … maybe because it’s so much better for him at Lion Camp now. I’m afraid all this is not good for him, but I don’t know what to do. Even Ayla’s worried, and that worries me more.”
“Where is Ayla now?” Danug asked.
“Out with the horses,” Nezzie said.
“I think she should take it as a compliment when they call her ‘animal woman.’ You must admit, she is good with animals,” Barzec said. “Some people even think she can speak with their spirits from the other world.”
“Some of the others say it just proves that she lived with animals,” Tarneg reminded him. “And accuse her of drawing different kinds of spirits that are not so welcome.”
“Ayla still says anyone can make animals friendly,” Talut said.
“She tries to make less of it,” Barzec said. “That may be why some of the others don’t put as much importance on it. People are more used to someone like Vincavec, someone who lets you know how great he thinks he is.”
Nezzie looked at Tulie’s man, and wondered why he didn’t seem to care much for Vincavec. The Mammoth Camp had been one of the first to take their side.
“You may be right, Barzec,” Tarneg said. “It’s strange how quickly you can get used to having animals around, when they behave so well. They don’t seem unnatural. They’re just like any other animal, except you can get close to them, and touch them. But when you think about it, it is beyond reason. Why should that wolf obey a signal from a weak child that he could easily tear apart? Why should those horses let someone sit on their backs and ride them? And what would make a person even think to try it?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Latie tries it, someday,” Talut said.
“If anyone will, she will,” Danug said. “Did you see her when she was here? First place she went was the horse lean-to. She missed them more than anyone. I think she’s in love with those horses.”
Jondalar had been listening without making any comment. The situation Ayla had caused for herself by admitting her background was painful and debasing, but in many ways it hadn’t been as bad as he had imagined it would be. He was surprised that she hadn’t been more thoroughly denounced. He had expected her to be vilified, driven out, completely ostracized. Was the taboo worse among his people, or did he just think it was?
When the Lion Camp stood up for her, he thought they must be a rare exception, who might be more forgiving because of Rydag. Then, when Vincavec and Avarie of Mammoth Camp came to offer support, Jondalar began to reconsider, and when more and more of the Camps voluntarily came to offer support to the Lion Camp, he was forced to inspect his own beliefs.
Jondalar was a physical man. He understood concepts such as love, compassion, anger, with an empathy that was based on his own feelings, even though he could not express them well. He could discuss intangible philosophies and matters of the spirit with intelligence, but they were not his passion, and he accepted his society’s positions without deep misgivings. But Ayla had faced the crowd with such dignity and quiet strength, respect for her soared. It gave him a rare insight.
He began to understand that just because some people thought certain behavior was wrong, that didn’t make it so. A person could resist popular belief and stand up for personal principles, and though there might be consequences, not everything would necessarily be lost. In fact, something important might be gained, if only within oneself. Ayla was not expelled from the people who had so recently adopted her. Half of them were willing to accept her, and believed her to be a woman of rare talent and courage.
The other half were of a different mind, but not all for the same reasons. Some saw it as an opportunity to gain influence and status by opposing the powerful Lion Camp at a time when their position was threatened. Others were genuinely incensed that a woman who was so depraved could be allowed to live among them. In their opinion, she personified evil, even more so because she did not appear to be evil. She looked like any other woman, more attractive than most, but she had duped them by a trick of controlling animals that she must have learned when she lived with the bestial flathead abominations, who had even fooled some people into thinking they were human.
Many feared her. By her own admission, she had spawned one of those misbegotten half-animals, and now threatened every other woman at the Summer Meeting. No matter what old Mamut said, everyone knew certain male spirits were consistently drawn to the same woman. The Lion Camp had allowed Nezzie to keep that animal child, and now look what they had! More animals, and an abomination of a woman who had probably been drawn to him. The entire Lion Camp ought to be banned.
The Mamutoi were a close-knit people. Almost everyone could count at least one relative or friend in every Camp. But now the fabric of their lives threatened to be torn apart, and many people, including Talut, were very distressed. The Councils convened, but ended up wrangling over the dispute. This was an unprecedented situation, and they didn’t have the means or the strategies to resolve it.
* * *
The bright afternoon sun did little to dispel the somber mood of the encampment. Walking Whinney up the path toward Cattail Camp, Ayla noticed the place where red-ochre earth had been dug out of the ground, and it reminded her of her visit to the Music Lodge. Though they were still practicing, and still planning a big celebration after the mammoth hunt, there wasn’t the same sense of expectation and excitement about it. Even the happiness Deegie had felt about her Matrimonial, and Latie about her elevation to the status of woman, was dampened by the differences that threatened to disrupt the entire Summer Meeting.
Ayla talked about leaving, but Nezzie told her it would not solve anything. She had not caused the problem. Her presence had only brought into the open a deep and basic difference between the two factions. Nezzie said the problem had been brewing ever since she took in Rydag. Many people still disapproved of him being allowed to live with them.
Ayla worried about Rydag. He seldom smiled and she noticed an absence of his gentle humor. He had no appetite, and she didn’t think he was sleeping well. He seemed to enjoy listening to her talk about her life with the Clan, but he seldom joined in on conversations.
She settled Whinney into the lean-to, and saw Jondalar on the broad, grassy meadow below riding toward the river crossing on Racer. He seemed different lately. Not quite so distant, but saddened.
On the spur of the moment, Ayla decided to go to the clearing at the center of the encampment and see what activities were going on. The Wolf Camp insisted that since they were hosting the Meeting, they could not take sides, but she believed they favored the Lion Camp’s position. She was not going to hide. She was not an “abomination,” the Clan were people, and so were Rydag and her son. She wanted to do something, show herself. Maybe visit the Mammoth Hearth, or the Music Lodge, or talk to Latie.
She set out with determined steps, nodding to those who acknowledged her, ignoring those who did not, and when she neared the Music Lodge, she saw Deegie coming out.
“Ayla! You are just the person I want to see. Are you going any place special?”
“I just decided to get away from Lion Camp.”
“Good! I was going to visit Tricie, and see her baby. I’ve been wanting to visit, but she’s been gone every time I’ve tried. Kylie just told me she’s there now. Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes.”
They walked toward the headwoman’s lodge. “We came to pay a visit, Tricie,” Deegie explained at the entrance, “and to see your baby.”
“Come in,” Tricie said. “I just put him down, but I don’t think he’s asleep yet.”
Ayla stayed back while Deegie picked him up and held him, cooing and talking to him. “Don’t you want to see him, Ayla?” Tricie finally said. It was almost a challenge.
“I do want to see him.”
She took the baby from Deegie’s arms and studied him carefully. His skin was so white it was nearly translucent, and his eyes such a pale blue they had almost no color at all. His hair was a bright orangey-red, but it had all the texture and tight, springy curl of Ranec’s. Most distinctive, his face was an infant version of Ranec’s face. Ayla knew without doubt that Ralev was Ranec’s baby. Ranec had started him as surely as Broud had started Durc growing inside her. She couldn’t help but wonder, when she joined with him, would she have a baby like this someday?
Ayla talked to the infant in her arms. He looked up at her with interest, as though he was fascinated, then he smiled and cooed a soft little delighted laugh. Ayla hugged him to her, closed her eyes and felt the softness of his cheek against hers, and felt her heart melt.
“Isn’t he beautiful, Ayla?” Deegie said.
“Yes, isn’t he beautiful?” Tricie asked, her tone sharper.
Ayla looked at the young mother. “No, he’s not beautiful.” Deegie gaped at her with surprise. “No one could ever say he is beautiful, but he is the most … lovable baby I have ever seen. Not a woman in the world could resist him. He doesn’t have to be beautiful. There is something special about him, Tricie. I think you are very lucky to have him.”
The mother’s smile softened. “I think I am, too, Ayla. And I agree, he is not beautiful, but he is good, and so lovable.”
Suddenly there was a commotion outside, shouting and wailing. The three young women hurried to the entranceway.
“O Great Mother! My daughter! Someone help her!” a woman wailed.
“What’s wrong? Where is she?” Deegie asked.
“A lion! A lion has her! Down in the meadow. Someone help her, please!” Several men with spears were already running toward the path.
“A lion? No, it can’t be!” Ayla said, as she started running after the men.
“Ayla! Where are you going?” Deegie called after her, trying to catch up.
“To get the girl,” Ayla called back.
She raced toward the path. A crowd of people was standing near the top of it watching the men with spears running down the path. Beyond them, in plain sight on the grassy floodplain across the river, was a massive cave lion, with a shaggy reddish mane, circling a tall young girl, who was too petrified to move. Ayla looked down, studied the animal closely to make sure, then ran into Lion Camp. Wolf jumped up on her.
“Rydag!” she called. “Come and get Wolf! I’ve got to get that girl.” When Rydag came out of the tent, she commanded the wolf, “Stay!” in her firmest tone, then told the boy not to let him go. Only then did she whistle for Whinney.
She jumped on the mare’s back, and raced down the path. The men with spears were already crossing the river when she guided Whinney around them. As soon as she reached firm ground on the other side, she urged Whinney into a gallop, and headed straight for the lion and the girl. The people watching from the top of the path looked on with wonder and amazement.
“What does she think she can do?” someone said, angrily. “She doesn’t even have a spear. The girl seems unharmed so far, but rushing at the lion with a horse might incite him. If that child is harmed, it will be her fault.”
Jondalar overheard the comment, as well as several other people from the Lion Camp, who turned to him questioningly. He just watched Ayla, swallowing the misgivings that rose in his throat. He couldn’t be sure, but she must have been, or she would never have gone down there with Whinney.
As Ayla and Whinney neared, the huge cave lion stopped and faced her. There was a scar on his nose, a familiar scar. She remembered when he got it.
“Whinney, it’s Baby! It really is Baby!” she cried, as she brought the horse to a stop and slid off.
She ran toward the lion, not even considering that he might not remember her. This was her Baby. She was his mother. She had raised him from a small cub, taken care of him, hunted with him.
It was just that fearlessness that he remembered. He started toward her, as the girl watched with fear. The next thing Ayla knew, the lion had tripped her, to knock her down, and she had her arms around his big shaggy neck, hugging him full-length, while he wrapped his forelegs around her in the closest thing to an embrace he could accomplish.
“Oh, Baby, you came back. How did you ever find me?” she cried, wiping her tears of joy in his rough mane.
Finally she sat up, and felt a raspy tongue lick her face. “Stop that!” she said, smiling. “I won’t have any skin left.” She scratched him in his favorite places, and a low, rumbling growl let her know his pleasure. He rolled over on his back so she could scratch his stomach. Ayla noticed the girl, tall, with long blond hair, standing wide-eyed, watching them.
“He was looking for me,” Ayla said to her. “I think he mistook you for me. You can go now, but walk, don’t run.”
Ayla scratched Baby on his stomach and behind his ears, until the girl walked into the waiting arms of a man, who clasped her to him with obvious relief, then led her up the path. The rest were standing back, holding their spears in readiness. Among them she saw Jondalar, with his spear-thrower poised in readiness, and beside him a shorter, dark-skinned man. Talut was on the other side of Ranec, and Tulie beside him.
“You have to go, Baby. I don’t want you to get hurt. Even if you are the biggest cave lion on the earth, a spear can stop you,” Ayla said, talking in the special language that grew out of Clan words and signs and animal sounds. Baby was familiar with the sounds, and certain of the signals. He rolled over and got up. Ayla hugged him around the neck, and then she couldn’t resist. She slid her leg over and eased onto his back, and hung on to his reddish mane. It was not the first time.
She felt hard, powerful muscles bunch beneath her, then with a leap, he was off, and in an instant, reached the full speed of a lion on the chase. Though she had ridden the lion before, she had never been able to develop any signals to direct him. He went where he wanted to go, but he allowed her to go with him. It was always an exciting wild ride, and she loved it for just that reason. Ayla clung to his mane, as the wind whipped her face, and breathed in his strong, rangy odor.
Ayla felt him turn and slow—the lion was a sprinter; unlike the wolf, he had no endurance for the long distance—and she looked ahead to see Whinney waiting, patiently grazing. The horse nickered as they approached, and tossed her head. Baby’s lion smell was strong and disturbing, but the mare had helped to raise this animal from a cub, and in her own way had mothered him. Though he was nearly as tall at the withers as she was, and longer and heavier, the horse had no fear of this particular lion, especially when Ayla was with him.
When the lion stopped, Ayla slid off his back. She hugged him and scratched him again, then with a signal that was suggestive of casting a stone with a sling, she told him to go. Tears fell as she watched him walk away, his tail weaving from side to side. When she heard the distinctive tone of his “hnk, hnk, hnk” grunting voice, that she would recognize anywhere, she sobbed in answer. The tears flooded and her vision blurred as the big tawny cat with the reddish mane disappeared into the tall grass. She knew, somehow, that she would never ride him again; that she would never see her wild, unlikely, lion son again.
The “hnk, hnk” grunts continued until finally the huge cave lion, gigantic compared with his later counterparts, sounded a deep, full-bellied, shattering roar that could be heard for miles. He shook the very earth with his farewell.
Ayla signaled to Whinney, and started walking back. As much as she loved riding her mare, she wanted to remember the feel of that last wild ride as long as she could.
Jondalar finally tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing scene and noticed the expressions on the faces of the others. He could see what they were thinking. Horses were one thing, even a wolf maybe, but a cave lion? He beamed a wide, smug grin of pride and relief. Let someone question his stories now!
The men started up the path after Ayla, feeling almost foolish carrying spears no one had had any use for. The people who had been watching stood back as she neared, making way for the woman and the horse, and stared after her with stunned disbelief and awe. Even the Lion Camp, who had heard Jondalar’s stories, and knew about her life in the valley, could not believe what they had seen.