The Clan of the Cave Bear

4

Brun turned on his heel and strode toward the ridge. As he rounded the jutting nose, he stopped, held by the sight beyond. Excitement surged through his veins. A cave! And what a cave! From the first instant he saw it, he knew it was the cave he was looking for, but he fought to control his emotions, to keep his growing hopes in check. With conscious effort, he focused on the details of the cave and its setting. His concentration was so intense, he hardly noticed the little girl.

Even from his vantage of a few hundred yards, the roughly triangular mouth, hewn out of the grayish brown rock of the mountain, was large enough to promise a space inside more than adequate to accommodate his clan. The opening faced south, exposed to sunlight most of the day. As though confirming the fact, a beam of light, finding a chink in the clouds overhead, highlighted the reddish soil of the cave’s broad front terrace. Brun scanned the area, making a quick survey. A large bluff to the north and a matching one to the southeast offered protection from winds. Water was close by, he thought, adding another positive feature to his growing mental list as he noticed the flowing stream at the foot of a gentle slope west of the cave. It was, by far, the most promising site he had seen. He signaled to Grod and Creb, repressing his enthusiasm while he waited for them to join him to examine the cave more closely.

The two men hurried toward their leader, followed by Iza who went to fetch Ayla. She, too, took a more searching look at the cave and nodded her head with satisfaction before returning with the child to the knot of people gesturing excitedly. Brun’s repressed emotion communicated itself. They knew a cave had been found and they knew Brun thought it had good possibilities. Piercing the somber gloom of the overcast sky, bright rays of sun seemed to charge the atmosphere with hope, matched by the mood of the anxiously waiting clan.

Brun and Grod gripped their spears as the three men approached the cave. They saw no signs of human habitation, but that was no guarantee the cave was uninhabited. Birds darted in and out of the large opening, twittering and chirping as they swooped and circled. Birds are a good omen, Mog-ur thought. As they neared, they walked cautiously, skirting the mouth while Brun and Grod searched carefully for fresh tracks and droppings. The most recent were a few days old. The spoor and large toothmarks on heavy leg bones cracked by powerful jaws told their own story: a pack of hyenas had used the cave for temporary shelter. The carnivorous scavengers had attacked an aging fallow deer and dragged the carcass to the cave to finish their meal at leisure and in relative security.

Off to one side, near the west end of the opening nested in a tangle of vines and brush, was a spring-fed pool; its outlet a small rivulet trickling down the slope to the stream. While the others waited, Brun followed the spring to its source rising out of the rock a short way up the steep, rugged, overgrown side of the cave. The sparkling water just outside the mouth was fresh and pure. Brun added the pool to the benefits of the location and rejoined the others. The site was good, but the cave itself would contain the decision. The two hunters and the crippled magician prepared to enter the large dark opening.

Returning to the east end, the men looked up at the apex of the triangular entrance high overhead as they passed into the hole in the mountain. All senses alert, they proceeded warily into the cave, keeping close to the wall. When their eyes grew accustomed to the dim interior, they gazed around in wonder. A high-vaulted ceiling domed an enormous room, large enough for many times their number. They inched along the rough rock wall watching for openings that might lead to deeper recesses. Near the back, a second spring oozed out of the wall, forming a small dark pool that melted into the dry dirt floor a short distance beyond. Just past the pool, the cave wall turned sharply toward the entrance. Following the west wall back to the mouth, they saw in the gradually increasing light a dark crack outlined by the dim gray wall. At Brun’s signal, Creb stopped his shuffling walk while Grod and the leader approached the fissure and looked inside. They saw absolute blackness.

“Grod!” Brun commanded, adding a gesture that signified his need.

The second-in-command dashed outside while Brun and Creb waited tensely. Grod scanned the vegetation growing nearby, then headed toward a small stand of silver fir. Clumps of hard resinous pitch, exuded through the bark, made shiny patches on the trunks. Grod pried the bark loose; fresh sticky sap beaded up in the white scar left on the tree. He broke off dead dry branches still clinging below the living, green-needled boughs, then withdrew a stone hand-axe from a fold of his wrap, hacked off a green branch, and quickly stripped it. He wrapped the pitchy bark and dry twigs with tough grass to the end of the green branch, and carefully removing the live coal from the anrochs horn at his waist, he held it to the pitch and began to blow. Soon, he ran back into the cave with a blazing torch.

With Grod holding the light high over his head and Brun in the lead gripping his club in readiness, the two men entered the dark crack. They crept silently along a narrow passage that turned abruptly after a few steps, doubling hack toward the rear of the cave, and just beyond the turn, opened into a second cave. The room, much smaller than the main cave, was nearly circular, and piled against the far wall, a heap of bones glowed whitely in the flickering torchlight. Brun moved in closer to get a better look, and his eyes flew open. He struggled to maintain control of himself, signaled Grod, and both of them quickly retreated.

Mog-ur waited anxiously, leaning heavily on his staff. As Brun and Grod stepped out of the dark opening, the magician was surprised. It was not usual for Brun to be so agitated. At a gesture, Mog-ur followed the two men back into the dark passage. When they reached the small room, Grod held up the torch. Mog-ur’s eyes narrowed as he saw the pile of bones. He rushed forward, his staff clattering to the floor as he dropped to his knees. Scrambling through the pile, he saw a large oblong object, and pushing the other bones aside, he picked up a skull.

There was no doubt. The high-domed frontal arch of the skull matched the one Mog-ur carried in his cloak. He sat back, held the huge cranium up to eye level, and looked into the dark eye holes with disbelief, and reverence. Ursus had used this cave. From the quantity of bones, cave bears had hibernated here for many winters. Now, Mogur understood Brun’s excitement. It was the best of all possible signs. This cave had been the dwelling place of the Great Cave Bear. The essence of the massive creature whom the Clan revered above all others, honored above all others, permeated the very rock of the cave walls. Luck and good fortune were assured to the clan that lived there. From the age of the bones, it was clear the cave had been uninhabited for years, just waiting for them to find it.

It was a perfect cave, well-situated, spacious, with an annex for secret rituals that could be used winter and summer; an annex that breathed with the supernatural mystery of the Clan’s spiritual life. Mog-ur was already envisioning ceremonies. This small cave would be his domain. Their search was over, the clan had found a home-providing the first hunt was successful.

As the three men left the cave the sun was shining, the clouds in rapid retreat, blown away by a sharp wind that came from the east. Brun took it as a good sign. it wouldn’t have mattered if the clouds had split asunder in a deluge of rain complete with lightning and thunder; he would have taken it as a good sign. Nothing could have dampened his elation or dispelled his feeling of satisfaction. He stood on the terrace in front of the cave and looked out at the view from the mouth. Ahead, between a cleft formed by two hills, he could see a broad shimmering expanse of open water. He hadn’t realized they were so close, and it triggered a memory that solved the puzzle of the rapidly warming temperature and unusual vegetation.

The cave was in the foothills of a chain of mountains at the southern tip of a peninsula that jutted halfway into a midcontinent inland sea. The peninsula was connected in two places to the mainland. The primary connection was a broad neck to the north, but a narrow strip of salt marsh formed a tie to the high mountainous land to the east. The salt marsh was also a swampy outlet channel for a smaller inland sea on the northeastern edge of the peninsula.

The mountains at their back protected the coastal strip from the frigid winter cold and fierce winds generated by the continental glacier to the north. Maritime winds, moderated by unfreezing waters of the sea, created a narrow temperate belt at the protected southern tip and provided enough moisture and warmth for the dense hardwood forest of broad-leafed deciduous trees common to cold temperate regions.

The cave was in an ideal location; they had the best of both worlds. Temperatures were warmer than any that prevailed in the surrounding area and there was an abundance of wood to supply fuel for warmth during the freezing winter months. A large sea was close at hand, filled with fish and seafood, and cliffs along the shore were home to a nesting colony of seabirds and their eggs. The temperate forest was a forager’s paradise of fruits, nuts, berries, seeds, vegetables, and greens. They had easy access to fresh water from springs and streams. But most important, they were within easy reach of the open steppes, whose extensive grasslands sustained the massive herds of large grazing animals that supplied not only meat but clothing and implements. The small clan of huntergatherers lived off the land, and this land held an overwhelming abundance.

Brun hardly noticed the ground beneath his feet as he walked back to the waiting clan. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect cave. The spirits have returned, he thought. Maybe they never left us, maybe they just wanted us to move to this larger, finer cave. Of course! That must be it! They were tired of the old cave, they wanted a new home, so they made an earthquake to make us leave it. Maybe the people who were killed were needed in the spirit world; and to make up for it, they led us to this new cave. They must have been testing me, testing my leadership. That’s why I couldn’t decide if we should turn back. Brun was glad his leadership had not been found wanting. If it hadn’t been entirely improper, he would have run back to tell the others.

As the three men came into view, there was no need to tell anyone they were through traveling. They knew. Of those waiting, only Iza and Ayla had seen the cave, and only Iza could appreciate it; she had been sure Brun would claim it. He can’t make Ayla leave now, Iza thought. If it hadn’t been for her, Brun would have turned back before we found it. Her totem must be powerful, and lucky, too. She’s even lucky for us. Iza looked at the little girl beside her, oblivious to the excitement she had caused. But if she’s so lucky, why did she lose her people? Iza shook her head. I’ll never understand the ways of the spirits.

Brun was looking at the child, too. As soon as he saw Iza and the girl, he remembered it was Iza who told him about the cave, and she would never have seen it if she hadn’t gone after Ayla. The leader had been annoyed when he saw the child wander off by herself, he had told everyone to wait. But if she hadn’t been so undisciplined, he would have missed the cave. Why would the spirits lead her to it first? Mog-ur was right, he’s always right, the spirits weren’t angered by Iza’s compassion, weren’t upset that Ayla was with them. If anything, they favored her.

Brun glanced at the deformed man who should have been leader in his place. We’re lucky that my brother is our mog-ur. Strange, he thought, I haven’t thought of him as my brother for a long time, not since we were children. Brun always used to think of Creb as his brother when he was young and fighting for the self-control necessary to males of the clan, especially to one destined to be leader. His older sibling had fought his own battle, against pain and ridicule because he couldn’t hunt, and he seemed to know when Brun was breaking down. The crippled man’s gentle look had a calming effect even then, and Brun always felt better when Creb sat next to him offering the solace of silent understanding.

All children born to the same woman were siblings, but only children of the same sex referred to each other with the more intimate term of brother or sister, and then only when they were young or in rare moments of special closeness. Males did not have sisters, as females did not have brothers; Creb was Brun’s sibling and his brother; Iza was only sibling, and she had no sisters.

There was a time when Brun felt sorry for Creb, but he had long since forgotten the man’s affliction in respect for his knowledge and his power. He had almost ceased seeing him as a man at all, only as the great magician whose sage counsel he often sought. Brun didn’t think his brother ever regretted not being leader, but sometimes he wondered if the cripple ever regretted not having a mate and her children. Women could be trying at times, but they often brought warmth and pleasure to a man’s fire. Creb never had a mate, never learned to hunt, never knew the joys or the responsibilities of normal manhood, but he was Mog-ur, The Mog-ur.

Brun knew nothing about magic and little about spirits, but he was leader, and his mate had given birth to a fine son. He glowed with pleasure, thinking of Broud, the boy he was training to take his place someday. I will take him on the next hunt, Brun suddenly decided, the hunt for the cave feast. That can be his manhood hunt. If he makes his first kill, we can include his manhood rites in the cave ceremony. Wouldn’t that make Ebra proud. Broud is old enough and he’s strong and brave. A little too headstrong sometimes, but he is learning to control his temper. Brun needed another hunter. Now that the clan had a cave, they had work ahead of them to prepare for the next winter. The boy was nearly twelve, more than old enough for manhood. Broud can share the memories for the first time in the new cave, Brun thought. They will be especially good; Iza will make the drink.

Iza! What am I going to do about Iza? And that girl? Iza’s already attached to her, strange as she is. It must be because she has been childless for so long. But she will have one of her own soon, and she has no mate to provide for her now. With the girl, there will be two children to worry about. Iza isn’t young anymore, but she is pregnant, and she has her magic and her status, which would bring honor to a man. Maybe one of the hunters would take her as a second woman, if it weren’t for that strange one. The strange one that the spirits favor. I might really make them angry if I turn her away now. They might make the earth shake again. Brun shuddered.

I know Iza wants to keep her, and she did tell me about the cave. She deserves to be honored for it, but it must not be obvious. If I let her keep the girl, that would show her honor, but the girl isn’t Clan. Would the clan spirits want her? She doesn’t even have a totem; how can she be allowed to stay with us if she has no totem? Spirits! I don’t understand spirits!

“Creb,” Brun called. The magician turned at the sound, surprised to hear Brun address him by his personal name, and limped toward the leader when he signaled that he wanted to talk privately.

“That girl, the one Iza picked up, you know she is not Clan, Mog-ur,” Brun started, a little unsure of how to begin. Creb waited. “You were the one who said I should allow Ursus to decide if she should live. Well, it looks like he has, but what do we do with her now? She is not Clan. She has no totem. Our totems won’t even allow someone from another clan at the ceremony to make a cave ready for them; only those whose spirits will live in it are permitted. She’s, so young, she’d never survive alone, and you know Iza wants to keep her, but what about the cave ceremony?”

Creb had been hoping for just such an opening, he was prepared. “The child has a totem, Brun, a strong totem. We just don’t know what it is. She was attacked by a cave lion, yet all she has to show for it are a few scratches.”

“A cave lion! Few hunters would get away that easy.”

“Yes, and she wandered alone for a long time, she was near starvation, yet she didn’t die, she was put in our path for Iza to find. And don’t forget, you didn’t prevent it, Brun. She is young for such an ordeal,” Mog-ur continued, “but I think she was being tested by her totem to see if she is worthy. Her totem is not only strong, it’s lucky. We could all share her luck, maybe we already are.”

“You mean the cave?”

“It was shown to her first We were ready to turn back, you led us so close, Brun…”

“The spirits led me, Mog-ur. They wanted a new home.” “Yes, of course they led you, but still, they showed the cave to the girl first. I’ve been thinking, Brun. There are two babies who don’t know what their totems are. I haven’t had time; finding a new cave was more important. I think we should include a totem ceremony for those babies when we sanctify the cave. It would bring them luck and please their mothers.”

“What does that have to do with the girl?”

“When I meditate for the totems of the two babies, I will ask for hers, too. If her totem reveals himself to me, she can be included in the ceremony. It wouldn’t require much of her, and we can accept her into the clan at the same time. Then there won’t be any problem with her staying.”

“Accept her into the clan! She’s not Clan, she was born to the Others. Who said anything about accepting her into the clan? It wouldn’t be allowed, Ursus wouldn’t like it.

It’s never been done before!” Brun objected. “I wasn’t thinking of making her one of us, I only wondered if the spirits would allow her to live with us until she gets older.” “Iza saved her life, Brun, she carries part of the girl’s spirit now, that makes her part Clan. She came close to walking in the next world, but she’s alive now. That’s almost the same as being born again, born to the Clan.” Creb could see the leader setting his jaw against the idea and he hurried on before Brun could say anything.

“People of one clan join other clans, Brun. There’s nothing unusual about that. There was a time when the young of many clans joined together to make new clans. Remember at the last Clan Gathering, didn’t two small clans decide to join to make one? Both kept dwindling, not enough children were born, and of those who were, not enough lived past their birth year. Taking someone into a clan isn’t new,” Creb reasoned.

“It’s true, sometimes people of one clan join another, but the girl isn’t Clan. You don’t even know if her totem’s spirit will talk to you, Mog-ur; and if it does, how do you know you’ll understand it? I can’t even understand her! Do you really think you can do it? Discover her totem?”

“I can only try. I will ask Ursus to help me. Spirits have a language of their own, Brun. If she is meant to join us, the totem that protects her will make himself understood.”

Brun considered for a moment. “But even if you can discover her totem, what hunter will want her? Iza and her baby will be burden enough, and we don’t have as many hunters. We lost more than Iza’s mate in the earthquake. The son of Grod’s mate was killed, and he was a young, strong hunter. Aga’s mate is gone and she has two children, and her mother was sharing that fire.” A hint of pain touched the leader’s eyes at the thought of the deaths in his clan.

“And Oga,” Brun continued. “First her mother’s mate was gored, and right afterward her mother died in the cave-in. I told Ebra to keep the girl with us. Oga is nearly a woman. When she’s old enough I think I will give her to Broud, that should please him,” Brun mused, distracted for a moment by thoughts of his other responsibilities. “There are burdens enough for the men who are left without adding the girl, Mog-ur. If I accept her into the clan, who can I give Iza to?”

“Who were you going to give her to until the girl would be old enough to leave us, Brun?” the one-eyed man asked. Brun looked uncomfortable, but Creb continued before Brun could respond. “There is no need to burden a hunter with Iza or the child, Brun. I will provide for them.”

“You!”

“Why not? They are female. There are no boys to train, at least not yet. Am I not entitled to the mog-ur’s portion of every hunt? I never claimed it all, I never needed it, but I can. Wouldn’t it be easier if all the hunters gave me the full share allotted to Mog-ur so I can provide for Iza and the girl, rather than have one hunter burdened with them? I planned to talk to you about setting up my own hearth when we found a new cave anyway, to provide for Iza, unless another man wants her. I’ve shared a fire with my sibling for many years; it would be difficult for me to change after so long. Besides, Iza helps my arthritis. If her child is a girl, I will take her too. If it is a boy, well…we can worry about it then.”

Brun mulled the idea over in his mind. Yes, why not? It would make it easier on everyone. But why does Creb want to do it? Iza would take care of his arthritis no matter whose fire she shared. Why does a man his age suddenly want to be bothered with small children? Why would he want to take on the responsibility of training and disciplining a strange girl? Maybe that’s it, he feels responsible. Brun didn’t like the idea of taking the girl into his clan-he wished the problem had never come up at all-but he liked even less the idea of having someone live with them who was an outsider, and outside of his control. Perhaps it was best to accept her and train her properly, as a woman should be. It might be easier for the rest of the clan to live with, too. And if Creb was willing to take them, Brun couldn’t think of any reason not to allow it.

Brun made a gesture of acquiescence. “All right, if you can discover her totem, we’ll take her into the clan, Mog-ur, and they can live at your hearth, at least until Iza has her child.” For the first time in his life, Brun found himself hoping that an expected child would be a girl rather than a boy.

Once the decision was made, Brun felt a sense of relief. The problem of what to do with Iza had been bothering him, but he had put it aside. He had more important problems to worry about. Creb’s suggestion not only offered a solution to a knotty decision he had to make as leader of the clan, but it solved a much more personal problem as well. Try as he might, ever since the earthquake that killed her mate, he could think of no other alternative than to take Iza and her expected baby, and probably Creb as well, to his own hearth. He was already responsible for Broud and Ebra, and now Oga.

The addition of more people would create frictions in the one place he could relax and let down his guard a little. His mate might not have been too happy about it, either.

Ebra got along well enough with his sibling, but at the same fire? Though nothing had ever been said openly, Brun knew Ebra was jealous of Iza’s status. Ebra was mated to the leader; in most clans, she would have been the highest ranked woman. But Iza was a medicine woman who could trace her lineage back in an unbroken line of the most respected, prestigious medicine women of the Clan. She had status in her own right, not through her mate. When Iza picked up the girl, Brun thought he’d have to take her in, too. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mog-ur might take responsibility not only for himself, but for Iza and her children too. Creb could not hunt, but Mog-ur had other resources.

With the problem solved, Brun hurried toward his clan, who were eagerly awaiting word from their leader to confirm what they had already guessed. He gave the signal: “We travel no more, a cave has been found.”

“Iza,” Creb said as she was preparing a tea of willow bark for Ayla. “I will not be eating tonight.”

Iza bowed her head in acknowledgment. She knew he was going to meditate in preparation for the ceremony. He never ate before meditating.

The clan was camped beside the stream at the foot of the gentle slope leading to the cave. Not until it had been consecrated by the proper rituals would they move in. Though it would be unpropitious to seem too anxious, each member of the clan found some pretext to get close enough to look inside. Foraging women made a point of searching near the mouth, and men followed the women, ostensibly to watch them. The clan was keyed-up but in a happy mood. The anxiety they had felt ever since the earthquake had vanished. They liked the look of the large new cave. Though it was difficult to see very far inside the dim, unlighted cavern, they could see enough to know it was spacious, much roomier than their former cave. The women pointed with delight at the still pond of spring water just outside. They wouldn’t even have to go as far as the stream for water. They looked forward to the cave ceremony, one of the few rituals in which women had their own part, and everyone was anxious to move in.

Mog-ur headed away from the busy campsite. He wanted to find a quiet place where he could think, undisturbed. As he walked alongside the swiftly running stream rushing to its meeting with the inland sea, a warm breeze blew from the south again, ruffling his beard. Only a few distant clouds marred the crystal clarity of the late afternoon sky. The undergrowth was thick and lush; he had to pick his way around obstructions, but he hardly noticed, his mind deep in concentration. A noise from the brush nearby brought him up short. This was strange country and his only defense was his stout walking stick, but in his one powerful hand it could be a formidable weapon of defense. He held it in readiness, listening to the snorting and grunting coming from the dense underbrush and the sounds of snapping branches from the direction of moving bushes.

Suddenly, an animal burst through the screen of thick growth, its large powerful body supported by short stocky legs. Wickedly sharp lower canines protruded like tusks along both sides of its snout. The animal’s name came to him though he had not seen one before. A boar. The wild pig glared belligerently at him, shuffled indecisively, then ignored him, and burrowing his snout into the soft earth, headed back into the brush. Creb breathed a sigh of relief, then continued downstream. He stopped at a narrow sandy bank, spread out his cloak, put the skull of the cave bear on it, and sat down facing it. He made formalized gestures asking Ursus for assistance, then cleared his mind of all thoughts except for the babies who needed to know their totems.

Children had always intrigued Creb. Often, when he sat in the midst of the clan, apparently lost in thought, he was observing the children without anyone being aware of it. One of the youngsters was a robust, strapping boy about halfway into his first year, who had howled belligerently at his birth and many times since, especially when he wanted to be fed. From the very first, Borg was always nuzzling his mother, burrowing into her soft breast until he found the nipple, and making little grunting noises of pleasure as he nursed. It reminded him, Creb thought with humor, of the boar he had just seen grunting as he burrowed into the soft earth. The boar was an animal worthy of respect. It was intelligent, the vicious canines could inflict serious damage when the beast was aroused, and the short legs could move with amazing speed when it decided to charge. No hunter would disdain such a totem. And it will be suitable for this new place; its spirit will rest easy in the new cave. A boar it is, he decided, convinced the boy’s totem had shown himself so the magician would be reminded of him.

Mog-ur felt satisfied with the choice and turned his attention to the other baby. Ona, whose mother had lost her mate in the earthquake, had been born not long before the cataclysm. Vorn, her four-year-old sibling, was the only male around that fire now. Aga will need another mate soon, the magician mused, one who will take Aga, her old mother, too. But that’s Brun’s worry; it’s Ona I need to think about, not her mother.

Girls needed gentler totems; they could not be stronger than a male totem or they would fight off the impregnating essence and the woman would bear no children. He thought about Iza. Her saiga antelope had been too much for her mate’s totem to overcome for many years-or had it? Mog-ur often wondered about that. Iza knew more magic than many people realized, and she was not happy with the man to whom she had been given. Not that he blamed her, in many ways. She had always conducted herself properly, but the strain between them was apparent. Well, the man is gone now, Creb thought. Mog-ur will be her provider, if not her mate.

As her sibling, Creb could never mate Iza, it would be against all tradition, but he had long since lost his desire for a mate. Iza was a good companion, she had cooked for him and cared for him for many years, and it might be more pleasant around the hearth now without the constant undertone of animosity. Ayla might make it more so. Creb felt a flush of gentle warmth remembering her little arms reaching out to hug him. Later, he said to himself, first Ona.

She was a quiet contented baby who often stared at him solemnly with her large round eyes. She watched everything with silent interest, missing nothing, or so it seemed. The picture of an owl flashed in his mind. Too strong? The owl is a hunting bird, he thought, but it only hunts small animals. When a woman had a strong totem, her mate’s needed to be much stronger. No man with weak protection could mate a woman with an owl totem, but perhaps she will have need of a man with strong protection. An owl, then, he decided. All women need mates with strong totems. Is that why I never took a mate? Creb thought. How much protection can a roe deer give? Iza’s birth totem is stronger. Creb hadn’t thought of the gentle, shy roe deer as his totem for many years. It, too, inhabited these thick forests, like the boar, he suddenly remembered. The magician was one of the few who had two totems-Creb’s was the roe deer, Mog-ur’s was Ursus.

Ursus Spelaeus, the cave bear, massive vegetarian towering over his omnivorous cousins by nearly twice their standing height, with a gigantic shaggy bulk of three times their weight, the largest bear ever known, was normally slow to anger. But one nervous she-bear attacked a defenseless, crippled boy who wandered, lost in thought, too close to a young cub. It was the lad’s mother who found him, torn and bleeding, his eye ripped away with half his face, and she who nursed him back to health. She amputated his useless, paralyzed arm below the elbow, crushed by the huge creature’s enormous strength. Not long afterward, Mog-ur-before-him selected the deformed and scarred child as acolyte and told the boy Ursus had chosen him, tested him and found him worthy, and took his eye as a sign that Creb was under his protection. His scars should be worn with pride, he was told, they were the mark of his new totem.

Ursus never allowed his spirit to be swallowed by a woman to produce a child; the Cave Bear offered his protection only after testing. Few were chosen; fewer survived. His eye was a great price to pay, but Creb was not sorry. He was The Mog-ur. No magician ever had his power, and that power, Creb was sure, was given to him by Ursus. And now, Mog-ur asked for his totem’s help.

Clutching his amulet, he implored the spirit of the Great Bear to bring forth the spirit of the totem that protected the girl born to the Others. This was a true test of his ability, and he wasn’t at all sure the message would come through to him. He concentrated on the child and what little he knew of her. She is fearless, he thought. She had been openly affectionate to him, showing fear neither of him nor of the censure of the clan. Rare for a girl; girls usually hid behind their mothers when he was around. She was curious and learned quickly. A picture started to form in his mind, but he pushed it aside. No, that’s not right, she’s female, that’s not a female totem. He cleared his mind and tried again, but the picture returned. He decided to let it play out, perhaps it was leading to something else.

He envisioned a pride of cave lions lazily warming themselves in the hot summer sun of the open steppes. There were two cubs. One was leaping playfully in the tall sere grass, poking her nose curiously into the holes of small rodents and growling in mock attack. It was a she-cub; it was she who would grow into a lioness, the primary hunter of the pride; it was she who would bring her kill to her mate. The cub bounded up to a shaggy-maned male and tried to entice him to play. Fearlessly, she reached up with a paw and batted the adult cat’s massive muzzle. It was a gentle touch, almost a caress. The huge lion pushed her down and held her with a heavy paw, then began washing the cub with his long, rough tongue. Cave lions rear their young with affection and discipline, too, he thought, wondering why this scene of feline domestic felicity came to him.

Mog-ur tried to clear his mind of the picture, tried once more to concentrate on the girl, but the scene would not shift.

“Ursus,” he motioned, “a Cave Lion? It can’t be. A female cannot have so powerful a totem. What man could she ever mate with?”

No man in his clan had a Cave Lion totem, not many men in all the clans did. He visualized the tall, skinny child, straight arms and legs, flat face with a large, bulging forehead, pale and washed out; even her eyes were too light. She will be an ugly woman, Mog-ur thought honestly. What man is likely to want her anyway? The thought of his own repulsiveness crossed his mind, and the way women had avoided him, especially when he was younger. Perhaps she will never mate, she would need the protection of a strong totem if she had to live out her life with no man to protect her. But, a Cave Lion? He tried to remember if there had ever been a woman of the Clan with the huge cat for a totem.

She is not really Clan, he reminded himself, and there was no doubt her protection was strong or she wouldn’t be alive. She would have been killed by that cave lion. The thought crystallized in his mind. The cave lion! It attacked her, but it did not kill…or did it attack? Was it testing her? Then another thought burst through and a chill of recognition crept up his spine. All doubt was swept out of his mind. He was sure. Not even Brun can doubt it, he thought. The cave lion had marked her with four parallel grooves in her left thigh, scars she would carry for the rest of her life. At a manhood ceremony, when Mog-ur carved the mark of a young man’s totem on his body, the mark for a Cave Lion was four parallel lines carved into the thigh!

On a male, they are marked on the right thigh; but she is female, and the marks are the same. Of course! Why hadn’t he realized it before? The lion knew it would be difficult for the clan to accept, so he marked her himself, but so clearly, no one could mistake it. And he marked her with Clan totem marks. The Cave Lion wanted the Clan to know. He wants her to live with us. He took her people so she would have to live with us. Why? The magician was jarred by a feeling of uneasiness, the same feeling he had experienced after the ceremony the day she was found. If he’d had a concept for it, he would have called it a sense of foreboding, yet tinged with a strange unnerving hope.

Mog-ur shook it off. Never had a totem come so strongly to him before; that was what unnerved him, he thought. The Cave Lion is her totem. He chose her, just as Ursus chose me. Mog-ur looked into the dark empty eye sockets of the skull in front of him. With profound acceptance, he marveled at the ways of the spirits, once they were understood. It was all so clear now. He was relieved-and overwhelmed. Why should this small girl have need of such powerful protection?