The Mammoth Hunters

20

Ayla turned her head to the side as she leaned into the screaming wind, trying to shield her face from the raw blast of gale-driven snow. Each careful step forward was violently opposed by a force made visible only by the swirling mass of frozen white grit hurled against her. As the angry blizzard raged, she faced the lash of stinging pellets and squinted her eyes open, then turned away and took another few steps. Buffeted by the fierce storm, she looked again. The smooth rounded shape ahead beckoned, and she was relieved finally to touch the solid ivory arch.

"Ayla, you shouldn't have gone out in that blizzard!" Deegie "You can lose your way a few steps beyond the entrance."

"But it has been blowing like that for many, many days, and Whinney and Racer go out. I want to know where they go."

"Did you find out?"

"Yes. They like to feed at place around bend. Wind does not blow so hard, and snow does not cover dry grass too high. Blows drift on other side. I have some grain, but have not grass left. Horses know where is grass, even when blizzard blows. I will give water here, when they come back," Ayla said, stamping her feet, and shaking the snow off the parka she had just pulled off. She hung it up on a peg near the entrance to the Mammoth Hearth, on her way in.

"Can you believe it? She went outside. In this weather!" Deegie announced to the several people who were congregated at the fourth hearth.

"But why?" Tornec asked.

"Horses need to eat, and I…" Ayla started to reply.

"I thought you were gone a long time," Ranec said. "When I asked Mamut, he said he had last seen you go into the horse hearth, but when I looked you weren't there."

"Everyone started looking for you, Ayla," Tronie said.

"Then Jondalar noticed your parka was gone, and the horses, too. He thought you might have gone out with them," Deegie said, "so we decided we'd better look for you outside. When I looked out to see how the weather was, I saw you coming."

"Ayla, you should let someone know if you are going out when the weather is bad," Mamut chided, gently.

"Don't you know you make people worry when you go out in a blizzard like this?" Jondalar said, his tone more angry.

Ayla tried to answer, but everyone was talking at once. She looked at all the faces watching her, and flushed. "I am sorry. I did not mean to make worry. I live alone long time, have no people to worry. I go out and come in when I want. I am not used to people, to have someone worry," she said, looking at Jondalar, then at the others. Mamut saw Ayla's brow knit in a frown as the blond man turned away.

Jondalar felt himself flush as he walked away from the people who had been worried about Ayla. She was right, she had lived alone and taken care of herself just fine. What right did he have to question her actions, or take her to task for not telling anyone she was going out? But he had been fearful from the moment he discovered she was missing and had probably gone outside into the blizzard. He had seen bad weather – winters where he grew up were exceptionally cold and bleak – but he had never seen weather so severe. This storm had raged without letup for half the season, it seemed.

No one had been more fearful for her safety than Jondalar, but he didn't want to show his deep concern. He'd been having difficulty talking to her since the night of her adoption. At first, he was so hurt that she had chosen someone else, he had withdrawn, and was ambivalent about his own feelings. He was wildly jealous, yet he doubted his love for her because he had been ashamed that he brought her.

Ayla had not shared Ranec's furs again, but every night Jondalar was afraid she might. It made him tense and nervous, and he found himself staying away from the Mammoth Hearth until after she was in bed. When he did finally join her on their sleeping platform, he turned his back and resisted touching her, afraid he might lose control, afraid he might break down and beg her to love him.

But Ayla didn't know why he was avoiding her. When she tried to talk to him, he answered in monosyllables, or pretended to be asleep; when she put an arm around him, he was stiff and unresponsive. It seemed to her that he didn't like her any more, especially after he brought separate furs to sleep in, so he wouldn't feel the searing touch of her body next to his. Even during the day, he stayed away from her. Wymez, Danug, and he had set up a flint-working area in the cooking hearth and Jondalar spent most of his waking hours there – he couldn't stand working with Wymez at the Fox Hearth, across the passageway from the bed Ayla had shared with Ranec.

After a while, when her friendly advances had been rebuffed too often, she became confused and hesitant and drew back from him. Only then did he finally begin to realize that the growing distance between them was his own doing, but he didn't know how to resolve it. As experienced and knowledgeable as he was about women, he had no experience with being in love. He found himself reluctant to tell her how he felt about her. He remembered young women following him around, declaring their strong feelings for him, when he didn't feel strongly about them. It had made him uncomfortable, made him want to get away. He didn't want Ayla to feel that way about him, so he held back.

Ranec knew they were not sharing Pleasures. He was excruciatingly conscious of Ayla every moment, though he tried not to make it obvious. He knew when she went to bed and when she woke, what she ate and with whom she spoke, and he spent as much time as he could at the Hearth of the Mammoth. Among those who gathered there, Ranec's wit, sometimes directed at one member or another of the Lion Camp, was often the cause of raucous laughter. He was scrupulously careful, however, never to denigrate Jondalar, whether Ayla was nearby or not. The visitor was aware of Ranec's way with words, but such cleverness had never been Jondalar's strong point. Ranec's compact muscularity and insouciant self-confidence had the effect of making the tall, dramatically handsome man feel like a big oaf.

As the winter progressed, Jondalar and Ayla's unresolved misunderstanding kept getting worse. Jondalar was becoming afraid that he would lose her entirely to the dark, exotic, and engaging man. He kept trying to convince himself that he should be fair, and let her make the choice, that he didn't have any right to make demands on her. But he stayed away because he didn't want to present her with a choice which would give her the opportunity to reject him.

The Mamutoi did not seem disturbed by the harsh weather. They had plenty of food stored, and busied themselves with their usual winter diversions, snug and secure inside their semisubterranean longhouse. The older-members of the Camp tended to gather around the cooking hearth, sipping hot tea, telling stories, reminiscing, gossiping, and playing games of chance with pieces of carved ivory or bone, when they were not busy on some project. The younger people congregated around the Mammoth Hearth, laughing and joking, singing songs and practicing musical instruments, though there was a great deal of intermixing among everyone, and the children were welcome everywhere. This was the time of leisure; the time to make and mend tools and weapons, utensils and jewelry; the time to weave baskets and mats, to carve ivory, bone, and antler; to make thongs, ropes, cords, and nets; and the time to make and decorate clothing.

Ayla was interested in how the Mamutoi processed their leather and, especially, how they colored it. She was also intrigued with the colored embroidery, quill and beadwork. Decorated and sewn clothing was new and unusual to her.

"You said you would show me how to make leather red after I make skin ready. I think bison skin I am working on is ready," Ayla said.

"All right, I'll show you," Deegie said. "Let's see how it looks."

Ayla went to the storage platform near the head of her bed and unfolded a complete hide, and spread it out. It was incredibly soft to the touch, pliable, and nearly white. Deegie examined it critically. She had watched Ayla's process without comment, but with great interest.

First Ayla had cut off the heavy mane close to the skin with a sharp knife, then she beamed it; draped it over a large smooth mammoth leg bone and scraped it, using the slightly dulled edge of a flint flake. She scraped the inside to remove clinging bits of fat and blood vessels, and the outside, against the lay of the hair, taking off the outer layer of skin, which included the grain of the leather, as well. Deegie would have rolled it up and left it near the fire for a few days, allowing it to begin to decay, to loosen the hair. When she was ready, the hair would come out, leaving behind the outer layer of skin, which would become the grain of the leather. To make the softer buckskin, as Ayla had done, she would have tied it to a frame to scrape off the hair and the grain.

Ayla's next step incorporated a suggestion from Deegie. After soaking and washing, Ayla had planned to rub fat into the hide to soften it, as she was accustomed to doing. But Deegie showed Ayla how to make a thin gruel of the putrefying brains of the animal to soak the hide in instead. Ayla was both surprised and pleased at the results. She could feel the change in the hide, the softening and elasticity which the brain tissue imparted, even while she was rubbing it in. But it was after thoroughly wringing out the hide that the work began. It had to be pulled and stretched constantly while it was drying, and the quality of the finished leather depended upon how well the hide was worked at this stage.

"You do have a good hand for leather, Ayla. Bison hide is heavy, and this is so soft. It feels wonderful. Have you decided what you want to make out of it?"

"No." Ayla shook her head. "But I want to make leather red. What do you think? Footwear?"

"It's heavy enough for it, but soft enough for a tunic. Let's go ahead and color it. You can think about what to make with it later," Deegie said, and as they walked toward the last hearth together, she asked, "What would you do with that hide now? If you were not going to color it?"

"I would put over very smoky fire, so leather will not get stiff again, if it gets wet, from rain, or even from swimming," Ayla said.

Deegie nodded. "That's what I would do, too. But what we are going to do to the hide will make the rain slide off."

They passed by Crozie when they walked through the Crane Hearth, which reminded Ayla of something she had been meaning to ask about. "Deegie, do you know how to make leather white, too? Like tunic Crozie wear? I like red, but after that, I would like to learn white. I think I know someone who would like white."

"White is hard to do, hard to get leather really snowy white. I think Crozie could show you better than I could. You would need chalk… Wymez might have some. Flint is found in chalk, and usually the pieces he gets from the mine up north have a covering of chalk on the outside," Deegie said.

The young women walked back to the Mammoth Hearth with some small mortars and pestles, and several lumps of red ochre coloring material in various shades. Deegie set some fat to melting over the fire, then arrayed the colored bits of material around Ayla. There were bits of charcoal for black, manganese for a blue-black, and a bright sulphurous yellow, in addition to ochres of many colors; browns, reds, maroons, yellows. The mortars were the natural bowl shapes of certain bones, such as the frontal bone of a deer, or pecked out of granite or basalt, just as the stone lamps were. Pestles were shaped out of hard ivory or bone, except one, which was an elongated natural stone.

"What shade of red do you want, Ayla? Deep red, blood red, earth red, yellow red; that's sort of a sun color."

Ayla didn't know she would have so many choices. "I don't know… red red," she replied.

Deegie studied the colors. "I think if we take this one," she said, picking up a piece that was a rather bright earth red, "and add a little yellow to it, to bring out the red more, it might be a color you would like."

She put the small lump of red ochre in the stone mortar and showed Ayla how to grind it very fine, then had her grind up the yellow color in a separate bowl. In a third bowl, Deegie mixed the two colors until she was satisfied with the shade. Then she added the hot fat, which changed the color, and brightened it to a shade that made Ayla smile.

"Yes. That is red. That is nice red," she said.

Next Deegie picked up a long deer rib, which had been split lengthwise so that the porous inner bone was exposed at the convex end. Using the rib burnisher with the spongy side down, she picked up a dab of the cooled red fat, and rubbed the mixture into the prepared bison skin, pressing hard as she held the hide in her hand. As she worked the mineral coloring into the pores of the material, the leather acquired a smooth sheen. On leather with grain, the burnishing tool and coloring agents would have given it a hard shiny finish.

After watching awhile, Ayla picked up another rib bone and copied Deegie's technique. Deegie watched her, offered a few corrections. When a corner of the hide was finished, she stopped Ayla for a moment.

"Look," she said, sprinkling a few drops of water on the hide as she held up the corner. "It runs off, see?" The water beaded up and ran down, leaving no mark on the impervious finish.

"Have you decided what you are going to do with your red piece of leather, yet?" Nezzie asked.

"No," Ayla said. She had unfolded the full bison hide to show Rydag and to admire it herself again. It was hers, because she had dressed and treated the hide, and she had never owned so much of anything that was red, and the leather had turned out to be remarkably red. "Red was sacred to Clan. I would give to Creb… if I could."

"It is the brightest red I think I have ever seen. You would certainly see someone coming for a long way wearing that."

"It is soft, too," Rydag signed. He often came to the Mammoth Hearth to visit with her, and she welcomed him.

"Deegie showed me how to make soft with brain, first," Ayla said, smiling at her friend. "I use fat before. Hard to do, and stains, sometimes. Better using brain of bison." She paused with a thoughtful expression, then asked, "Will work for every animal, Deegie?" Then, when Deegie nodded, "How much brain should use? How much for reindeer? How much for rabbit?"

"Mut, the Great Mother, in her infinite wisdom," Ranec replied instead, with the hint of a grin, "always gives just enough brains to each animal to preserve its hide."

Rydag's soft guttural chuckle puzzled Ayla for a moment, then she smiled. "Some have enough brains, do not get caught?"

Ranec laughed, and Ayla joined him, pleased with herself for understanding the joke hidden in the meaning. She was becoming much more comfortable with the language.

Jondalar, just walking into the Mammoth Hearth and seeing Ayla and Ranec laughing together, felt his stomach churn into a knot. Mamut saw him close his eyes as though in pain. He glanced at Nezzie and shook his head.

Danug, who had been following behind the visiting flint worker, watched him stop, clutch a post, and drop his head. The feelings of Jondalar and Ranec for Ayla, and the problem that was developing because of them, was apparent to all, though most people did not acknowledge it. They didn't want to interfere, hoping to give the three of them room to work it out for themselves. Danug wished he could do something to help, but he was at a loss. Ranec was a brother, since Nezzie had adopted him, but he liked Jondalar and felt empathy for his anguish. He, too, had strong, if undefined, feelings for the beautiful new member of the Lion Camp. Beyond the inexplicable flushes and physical sensations when he was near her, he felt an affinity with her. She seemed to be as confused about how to handle the situation as he often felt about the new changes and complications in his life.

Jondalar took a deep breath and straightened up, then continued into the area. Ayla's eyes followed him as he walked over to Mamut and handed him something. She watched them exchange a few words, then Jondalar left, quickly, without saying a word to her. She had lost the thread of the conversation going on around her, and when Jondalar left, she hurried to Mamut, not hearing the question Ranec had asked her, or seeing the fleeting look of disappointment on his face. He made a joke, which she also did not hear, to cover his dismay. But Nezzie, who was sensitive to the subtle nuances of his deeper feelings, noticed the hurt in his eyes, and then saw him set his jaw and square his shoulders with resolution.

She wanted to advise him, to give him the benefit of her experience and the wisdom of her years, but she held her tongue. They must work out their own destinies, she thought.

Since the Mamutoi lived in close quarters for extended periods of time, they had to learn to tolerate each other. There was no real privacy in the earthlodge, except the privacy of each person's thoughts, and they were very careful not to intrude into another's private thoughts. They shied away from asking personal questions, or pressing uninvited offers of assistance and advice, or intervening in private squabbles unless they were asked, or if the squabbles got out of hand and became a problem for everyone. Instead, if they saw a troubling situation developing, they quietly made themselves available and waited with patience and forbearance until a friend was wanted to discuss worries, fears, and frustrations. They were not judgmental or highly critical, and they imposed few restrictions on personal behavior if it did not hurt or seriously disturb others. A solution to a problem was one that worked, and satisfied everyone involved. They were gentle with each other's souls.

"Mamut…" Ayla began, then realized she didn't know exactly what she wanted to say. "Ah… I think now is good time to make medicine for arthritis."

"I would not object," the old man said, smiling. "I have not had as comfortable a winter in many years. If for no other reason, I am glad you are here, Ayla. Let me put away this knife I won from Jondalar, and I will put myself in your hands."

"You win knife from Jondalar?"

"Crozie and I were wagering with the knucklebones. He was watching and looked interested, so I invited him to play. He said he would like to, but he had nothing to wager. I told him as long as he had his skill, he always had something, and said I'd bet against a special knife that I wanted to be made in a certain way. He lost. He should know better than to wager against One Who Serves." Mamut chuckled. "Here's the knife."

Ayla nodded. His answer satisfied her curiosity, but she wished someone could tell her why Jondalar didn't want to talk to her. The group of people who had been admiring Ayla's red leather hide broke up and left the Mammoth Hearth, except for Rydag, who joined Ayla and Mamut. There was something comforting about watching her treat the old shaman. He settled himself on a corner of the bed platform.

"I will make hot poultice for you first," she said, and began to mix ingredients in a wooden bowl.

Mamut and Rydag watched her measuring, mixing, heating water. "What do you use in the poultice?" Mamut asked.

"I do not know your words for plants."

"Describe them to me. Maybe I can tell you. I know a few plants and some remedies; I've had to learn some."

"One plant, grows higher than knee," Ayla explained, thinking about the plant carefully. "Has big leaves, not bright green, like dust on them. Leaves grow together with stem first, then get big, then come to point at end. Under leaf, soft, like fur. Leaves good for many things, and roots, too, especially broken bones."

"Comfrey! That must be comfrey. What else is in the poultice?" This is interesting, he thought.

"Other plant, smaller, does not reach knee. Leaves, like small spear point Wymez makes, dark shiny green, stay green in winter. Stem comes up from leaves, has little flowers, light color, small red spots inside. Good for swellings, rash, too," Ayla said.

Mamut was shaking his head. "Leaves stay green in winter, spotted flowers. I don't think I know that one. Why not just call it spotted wintergreen."

Ayla nodded. "Do you want to know other plants?" she asked.

"Yes, go ahead and describe another."

"Big plant, bigger than Talut, almost tree. Grows on low ground, near rivers. Dark purple berries stay on plant even in winter. Young leaves good to eat, big old ones too strong, can make sick. Dried root in poultice is good for swelling, red swelling, too, and for pain. I put dried berries in tea I make for your arthritis. Do you know name?"

"No, I don't think so, but as long as you know the plant, I'm satisfied," Mamut said. "Your remedies for my arthritis have helped, you are good with medicine for elders."

"Creb was old. He was lame and had pain from arthritis. I learn from Iza how to help. Then I help others in clan." Ayla paused and looked up from her mixing. "I think Crozie suffer pains of age, too. I want to help. You think she object, Mamut?"

"She doesn't like to admit to the failings of age. She was a proud beauty in her younger years, but I think you are right. You could ask her, especially if you can think of a way that wouldn't bruise her pride. That's all she has left now."

Ayla nodded. When the preparation was ready, Mamut removed his clothing. "When you are resting, with poultice," she said, "I have root powder of other plant I want to put on hot coals for you to smell. Will make you sweat, and is good for pain. Then, before you sleep tonight, I have new wash for joints. Apple juice and hot root…"

"You mean horseradish? The root Nezzie uses, with food."

"I think, yes, with apple juice and Talut's bouza. Will make skin warm, and inside skin warm, too."

Mamut laughed. "How did you ever get Talut to let you put his bouza outside on the skin, and not inside?"

Ayla smiled. "He likes 'magic morning-after medicine,' I say I will always make for him," she said while she applied a thick, gummy, hot healing plaster to the old man's aching joints. He lay back comfortably, and closed his eyes.

"This arm look good," Ayla commented, working on the arm that had been broken. "I think was bad break."

"It was a bad break," Mamut said, opening his eyes again. He glanced at Rydag, who was quietly taking everything in. Mamut had not spoken of his experience to anyone but Ayla. He paused, then nodded sharply with decision. "It's time you knew, Rydag. When I was a young man on a Journey, I fell down a cliff and broke my arm. I was dazed, and finally wandered into a Camp of flatheads, people of the Clan. I lived with them for a while."

"That is why you quick to learn signs!" Rydag smiled. "I thought you very smart."

"I am very smart, young man," Mamut said, grinning back, "but I also remembered some of them, once Ayla reminded me."

Rydag's smile widened. Except for Nezzie, and the rest of his Lion Hearth family, he loved these two people more than anyone in the world, and he had never been so happy since Ayla came. For the first time in his life, he could talk, he could make people understand him, he could even make someone smile. He watched Ayla working on Mamut, and even he could recognize her thoroughness and knowledge. When Mamut looked in his direction, he signaled, "Ayla is good Healer."

"The medicine women of the Clan are very skilled; she learned from them. No one could have done a better job on my arm. The skin was scraped, with dirt ground in, and it was torn open with the broken bone poking through. It looked like a piece of meat. The woman, Uba, cleaned it and set it right, and it did not even swell up with pus and fever. I had full use when it healed, and only in these later years have I felt a little ache now and then. Ayla learned from the granddaughter of the woman who fixed my arm. I was told she was considered the best," Mamut announced, watching Rydag's reaction. The boy looked at both of them quizzically, wondering how they could know the same people.

"Yes. And Iza was best, like her mother and her grandmother," Ayla said, finishing up. She hadn't been paying attention to the silent communication between the boy and the old man. "She knew all her mother knew, had mother's memories, and grandmother's memories."

Ayla moved some stones from the fireplace closer to Mamut's bed, scooped up a few live coals with two sticks and put them on the stones, then sprinkled powdered honeybloom root on the coals. She went to get covers for Mamut to keep the heat in, but while she was tucking them around him, he got up on one elbow and looked at her thoughtfully.

"The people of the Clan are different in a way that most people don't realize. It's not that they don't talk, or that the way they talk is different. It's that the way they think is a little different. If Uba, the woman who took care of me, was the grandmother of your Iza, and she learned from her mother's and grandmother's memories, how did you learn, Ayla? You don't have Clan memories." Mamut noticed an embarrassed flush, and a quick little gasp of surprise before Ayla looked down. "Or do you?"

Ayla looked up at him again, then down. "No. I do not have Clan memories," she said.

"But…"

Ayla looked back at him. "What do you mean, 'but'?" she said. Her expression was wary, almost frightened. She looked down again.

"You do not have Clan memories, but… you have something, don't you? Something of the Clan?"

Ayla kept her head bowed. How could he know? She had never told anyone, not even Jondalar. She hardly even admitted it to herself, but she had never been quite the same afterward. There were those times, that came on her.

"Does it have something to do with your skill as a medicine woman?" Mamut asked.

She looked up and shook her head. "No," she said, her eyes pleading for him to believe her. "Iza teach me, I was very young, I think I was not yet age of Rugie when she begin. Iza knew I did not have memories, but she make me remember, make me tell her again and again until I do not forget. She is very patient. Some people tell her, is foolish to teach me. I cannot remember… I am too stupid. She tell them no, I am just different. I do not want to be different. I make myself remember. I say to myself, over and over, even when Iza is not teaching me. I learn to remember, my way. Then I make myself learn fast so they won't think I am so stupid."

Rydag's eyes were opened big and round. More than anyone, he understood exactly how she had felt, but he didn't know anyone had ever felt the same way, especially someone like Ayla.

Mamut looked at her with amazement. "So you memorized Iza's Clan 'memories.' That's quite an accomplishment. They go back generation after generation, don't they?"

Rydag was listening closely now, sensing something very important to him.

"Yes," Ayla said, "but I did not learn all her memories. Iza could not teach me all she knew. She told me she did not even know how much she knew, but she teach me how to learn. How to test, how to try carefully. Then, when I am older, she said I was her daughter, medicine woman of her line. I ask, how can I claim her line? I am not her true daughter. I am not even Clan, I do not have memories. Then she tell me I have something else, as good as memories, maybe better. Iza thought I was born to line of medicine women of the Others, best line, like her line was best. That is why I am medicine woman of her line. She said someday I would be best."

"Do you know what she meant? Do you know what you have?" Mamut asked.

"Yes, I think so. When someone not well, I see what is wrong. I see look of eyes, color of face, smell of breath. I think about it, sometimes know just looking, other times, know what to ask. Then make medicine to help. Not always same medicine. Sometimes new medicine, like bouza in arthritis wash."

"Your Iza may have been right. The best Healers have that gift," the Mamut said, then a thought occurred to him, and he continued, "I have noticed one difference between you and the Healers I know, Ayla. You use plant remedies and other treatments to heal, Mamutoi Healers call upon the assistance of the spirits as well."

"I do not know world of spirits. In Clan only mog-urs know. When Iza want help of spirits, she ask Creb."

The Mamut stared hard into the eyes of the young woman. "Ayla, would you like to have the help of the spirit world?"

"Yes, but I have no mog-ur to ask."

"You don't have to ask anyone. You can be your own mog-ur."

"Me? A mog-ur? But I am a woman. A woman of the Clan cannot be a mog-ur," Ayla said, stunned at the suggestion.

"But you are not a woman of the Clan. You are Ayla of the Mamutoi. You are a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. The best Mamutoi Healers know the ways of the spirits. You are a good Healer, Ayla, but how can you be the best if you cannot ask the help of the spirit world?"

Ayla felt a great knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She was a medicine woman, a good medicine woman, and Iza said someday she would be the best. Now Mamut said she could not be the best without the help of the spirits, and he must be right. Iza always asked Creb to help, didn't she?

"But I do not know world of spirits, Mamut," Ayla said, feeling desperate, almost panicky.

Mamut leaned close to her, sensing the moment was right, and drawing from some inner source a power to compel. "Yes, you do," he said, his tone commanding, "don't you, Ayla?"

Her eyes flew open in fear. "I do not want to know spirit world!" she cried.

"You only fear that world because you don't understand it. I can help you to understand it. I can help you to use it. You were born to the Hearth of the Mammoth, born to the mysteries of the Mother, no matter where you were born or where you go. You cannot help yourself, you are drawn to it, and it seeks you. You cannot escape it, but with training and understanding, you can control it. You can make the mysteries work for you. Ayla, you cannot fight your destiny, and it is your destiny to Serve the Mother."

"I am medicine woman! That is my destiny."

"Yes, that is your destiny, to be a medicine woman, but that is Serving the Mother, and someday, you may be called to serve in another way. You need to be prepared. Ayla, you want to be the best medicine woman, don't you? Even you know that some sickness cannot be healed by medicines and treatments alone. How do you cure someone who no longer wants to live? What medicine gives someone the will to recover from a serious accident? When someone dies, what treatment do you give the ones left behind?"

Ayla bowed her head. If someone had known what to do for her when Iza died, she might not have lost her milk and had to give her son to the other women with babies to nurse. Would she know what to do if that happened to someone she was taking care of? Would knowledge of the spirit world help her to know what to do?

Rydag was watching the tense scene, knowing he had been forgotten for the moment. He was afraid to move, afraid it would distract them from something very important, though he wasn't sure what it was.

"Ayla, what is it you fear? What happened to make you turn away? Tell me about it," Mamut said, his voice persuasively warm.

Ayla got up suddenly. She picked up the warm furs and tucked them around the old shaman. "Must cover, keep warm for poultice to work," she said, obviously distracted and upset. Mamut lay back, allowed her to complete her treatment of him without objection, realizing she needed time. She began to pace, nervous and agitated, her eyes unfocused, staring into space or at some internal scene. She spun around and faced him.

"I did not mean to!" she said.

"What didn't you mean to do?" Mamut said.

"Go into cave… see mog-urs."

"When did you go into the cave, Ayla?" Mamut knew the restrictions against women participating in Clan rituals. She must have done something she wasn't supposed to, broken some taboo, he thought.

"At Clan Gathering."

"You went to a Clan Gathering? They hold a Gathering once every seven years, isn't that right?"

Ayla nodded.

"How long ago was this Gathering?"

She had to stop, think about it, and the concentration cleared her mind a bit. "Durc was just born then, in spring. Next summer, will be seven years! Next summer, is Clan Gathering. Clan will go to Gathering, bring Ura back. Ura and Durc will mate. My son will be man soon!"

"Is that true, Ayla? He will be only seven years when he mates? Your son will be a man so young?" Mamut asked.

"No, not so young. Maybe three, four more years. He is… like Druwez. Not yet man. But mother of Ura ask me for Durc, for Ura. She is child of mixed spirits, too. Ura will live with Brun and Ebra. When Durc and Ura old enough, will mate."

Rydag stared at Ayla in disbelief. He didn't entirely understand all the implications, but one thing seemed certain. She had a son, mixed like him, who lived with the Clan!

"What happened at the Clan Gathering seven years ago, Ayla?" Mamut asked, not wanting to let it drop when he had seemed so close to getting an agreement from Ayla to begin training, although she had brought up some intriguing points he would like to ask her about. He was convinced that it was not only important, it was essential, for her own sake.

Ayla closed her eyes with a pained expression. "Iza is too sick to go. She tell Brun I am medicine woman, Brun make ceremony. She tell me how to chew root to make drink for mog-urs. Tell only, cannot show me. Is too… sacred to make for practice. Mog-urs at Clan Gathering not want me, I am not Clan. But no one else knows, only Iza's line. Finally say yes. Iza tell me not swallow juice when I chew, spit into bowl, but I cannot. I swallow some. Later, I am confused, go into cave, follow fires, find mog-urs. They not see me, but Creb knows."

She became agitated again, paced back and forth. "It is dark, like deep hole, and I am falling." She hunched her shoulders, rubbed her arms, as though she was cold. "Then Creb come, like you, Mamut, but more. He… he… take me with him."

She was silent then, pacing. Finally she stopped and spoke again. "Later, Creb is very angry and unhappy. And I am… different. I never say, but sometimes I think I go back there, and I am… frightened."

Mamut waited, to see if she was finished. He had some idea what she had gone through. He had been allowed at a Clan ceremony. They used certain plants in unique ways, and he had experienced something unfathomable. He had tried, but he had never been able to duplicate the experience, even after he became Mamut. He was about to say something when Ayla spoke again.

"Sometimes I want to throw root away, but Iza tell me is sacred."

It took a moment for the meaning of Ayla's words to register, but the shock of recognition nearly brought him to his feet.

"Are you saying you have that root with you?" he asked, finding it difficult to control his excitement.

"When I leave, take medicine bag. Root is in medicine bag, in special red pouch."

"But is it still good? You say it's been more than three years since you left. Wouldn't it lose potency in that time?"

"No, is prepared special way. After root is dried, keeps long time. Many years."

"Ayla," the Mamut began, trying to phrase his words just right, "it could be very fortunate that you have it still. You know, the best way to overcome a fear is to face it. Would you be willing to prepare that root again? Just for you and me?"

Ayla shivered at the thought. "I do not know, Mamut. I do not want to. I am frightened."

"I don't mean right away," he said. "Not until you have had some training and are prepared for it. And it should be a special ceremony, with deep meaning and significance. Perhaps the Spring Festival, the beginning of new life." He saw her shake again. "It's up to you, but you do not have to decide now. All I ask is that you allow me to begin training and preparation. When spring comes, if you don't feel ready, you can say no."

"What is training?" Ayla asked.

"First, I would want you to learn certain songs and chants, and how to use the mammoth skull. Then there is the meaning of certain symbols and signs."

Rydag watched her close her eyes and frown. He hoped she would agree. He had just learned more about his mother's people than he ever knew, but he wanted to learn more. If Mamut and Ayla planned a ceremony with Clan rituals, he was sure he would.

When Ayla opened them, her eyes looked troubled, but she swallowed hard, and then nodded. "Yes, Mamut. I try to face fear of spirit world, if you will help me."

As Mamut lay back down, he didn't notice Ayla clutch the small decorated bag she wore around her neck.