The Mammoth Hunters

25

As that ancient earth tilted her icy northern face imperceptibly closer to the great shining star she circled, even the lands near the glaciers felt a kiss of gentle warmth and slowly awakened from the sleep of a deeper and colder winter. Spring stirred reluctantly at first, then, with the urgency of a season whose time was short, threw off the frozen cover in an exuberant rush that watered and quickened the soil.

The drops trickling from branches and archways in the first unfrozen noon warmth hardened into icicles as the nights cooled. In the gradually warming days that followed, the long tapered shafts grew, then slipped their icy grip and pierced drifts of snow, shrunk to mounds of slush drained off by muddy water. The rills, runnels, and rivulets of melting snow and ice joined together into streams to carry away the accumulated moisture that had been held in cold suspension. The surging streams raced down old channels and gullies, or cut new ones into the fine bess, sometimes aided and directed by an antler shovel or an ivory scoop.

The ice-bound river groaned and creaked in its struggle to loosen winter's hold as the melt poured into its hidden current. Then, with no warning, a sharp report, heard even in the lodge, followed by a second crack and then a booming rumble, announced that the ice no longer held back the flooding tide. The chunks and floes, bobbing, dipping, turning on end, caught up and swept along by the swift powerful stream, marked a turning point of the season.

As though the cold was washed out with the tide, the people of the Camp, as confined as the river by the frigid cold, spilled out of the earthlodge. Though it was warmer only by comparison, the restrained indoor life shifted to energetic activity outside. Any excuse to go outdoors was greeted with enthusiasm, even spring cleaning.

The people of the Lion Camp were clean, by their own standards. Though moisture in the form of ice and snow was plentiful, it took fire, and large supplies of fuel, to make water. Even so, some of the ice and snow they melted for cooking and drinking was used to wash, and they took sweatbaths periodically. Personal areas were generally well organized, tools and implements were cared for, the few clothes that were worn indoors were brushed, occasionally washed and well maintained. But by the end of winter, the stench inside the earthlodge was incredible.

Contributing to the stink was food in various stages of preservation or decay, cooked, uncooked, and rotten; burning oils, often rancid since fresh congealed lumps of fat were usually added to old oil in the lamps; baskets used for defecation, not always dumped immediately; containers of urine saved and left standing to become ammoniacal by the decomposition of urea through bacteria; and people. Though sweatbaths were healthful and cleansed the skin, they did little to eliminate normal body odors, but that was not their purpose. Personal odor was part of a persons' identity.

The Mamutoi were accustomed to the rich and pungent natural odors of everyday living. Their sense of smell was well developed and used, like sight or hearing, to maintain awareness of their environment. Not even the smells of the animals were thought to be unpleasant; they were natural, too. But as the season warmed, even noses accustomed to the ordinary odors of life began to notice the consequences of twenty-seven people living together in close quarters for an extended period. Spring was the time when the drapes were pulled back to air the lodge, and the accumulated debris of the entire winter was cleaned up and thrown out.

In Ayla's case, that included shoveling out the horse dung from the annex. The horses had weathered the winter well, which pleased Ayla, but it was not surprising. Steppe horses were hardy animals, adapted to the rigors of harsh winters. Though they had to forage for themselves, Whinney and Racer were free to come and go at will to a place of protection well beyond that usually available to their wild cousins. In addition, water, and even some food, was provided for them. Horses matured quickly in the wild, necessary, under normal circumstances, for survival, and Racer, like other colts who had been born the same time, had reached his full growth. Though he would fill out a bit more in the next few years, he was a sturdy young stallion, slightly bigger than his dam.

Spring was also the time of shortages. The supply of certain foods, particularly favored vegetable products, was exhausted, and other foods were running low. When, they took stock, everyone was glad they had decided to go on the last bison hunt. If they hadn't, they might now be low on meat. But though the meat filled them, it left them unsatisfied. Ayla, recalling Iza's spring tonics for Brun's clan, decided to make some for the Camp. Her tisanes of various dried herbs, including iron-rich yellow dock, and scurvy-preventing rose hips, relieved the underlying vitamin lack that caused the craving for fresh food, but it did not eliminate the desire. Everyone hungered for the first fresh greens. The need for her medical knowledge went beyond spring tonics, however.

Well insulated and heated by several fires, lamps, and natural body heat, it was warm in the semisubterranean longhouse. Even when it was bitterly cold out, few clothes were worn inside. During the winter they were careful to dress properly before going outdoors, but when the snow began to melt, such caution was abandoned. Though the temperature hovered barely above freezing, it felt so much warmer people went outdoors wearing little more than their usual indoor clothing. With spring rains and melting snow, they often were wet and chilled before they went back in, which lowered their resistance.

Ayla was busier treating coughs, sniffles, and sore throats in the warming days of spring than she ever was in the coldest depths of winter. The epidemic of spring colds and respiratory infections afflicted everyone. Even Ayla took to her bed for a few days to nurse a slight fever and heavy chest cough. Before they were hardly into the season, she had treated nearly everyone in the Lion Camp. Depending upon the need, she provided medicinal teas, steam treatments, hot plasters for throats and chests, and a sympathetic and convincing bedside manner. Everyone was praising the efficacy of her medicine. If nothing else, she made people feel better.

Nezzie told her they always got spring colds, but when Mamut came down with the illness shortly after she did, Ayla ignored her own residual symptoms to take care of him. He was a very old man, and she worried about him. A severe respiratory infection could be fatal. The shaman, however, for all his great age, still had remarkable stamina and recovered more quickly than some others in the lodge. Though he enjoyed her devoted attention, he urged her to see to others who needed her care more, and to rest herself.

She needed no urging when Fralie developed a fever, and a deep, body-racking cough, but her willingness to help made no difference. Frebec would not allow Ayla into the hearth to treat Fralie. Crozie argued furiously with him, and everyone in the Camp agreed with her, but he was adamant. Crozie even argued with Fralie, trying to convince her to ignore Frebec, to no avail. The sick woman merely shook her head and coughed.

"But why?" Ayla said to Mamut, sipping a hot drink with him and listening to Fralie's latest coughing spasm. Tronie had taken Tasher, who was between Nuvie and Hartal in age, to her hearth. Crisavec slept with Brinan at the Aurochs Hearth so the sick and pregnant woman could rest, but Ayla felt it every time Fralie coughed.

"Why won't he let me help her? He can see that other people feel better, and she needs it more than anyone. Coughing like that is too hard on her, especially now."

"That's not a difficult question, Ayla. If one believes the people of the Clan are animals, it's impossible to believe they understand anything about healing medicine. And if you grew up with them, how could you know anything about it?"

"But they are not animals! A Clan medicine woman is very skilled."

"I know that, Ayla. I know better than anyone the skill of a Clan medicine woman. I think everyone here knows it now, even Frebec. At least they appreciate your ability, but Frebec doesn't want to back down after all the arguing. He's afraid he will lose face."

"What's more important? His face or Fralie's baby?"

"Fralie must think Frebec's face is more important."

"It's not Fralie's fault. Frebec and Crozie are trying to force her to choose between them, and she won't choose."

"That's Fralie's decision."

"That's just the trouble. She doesn't want to make a decision. She refuses to make a choice."

Mamut shook his head. "No, she is making a choice, whether she means to or not. But the choice is not between Frebec and Crozie. How close is she to giving birth?" he asked. "She looks ready to me."

"I'm not sure, but I don't think she is ready yet. She looks bigger because she's so thin, but the baby is not in position yet. That's what worries me. I think it's too soon."

"There is nothing you can do about it, Ayla."

"But if Frebec and Crozie wouldn't argue so much about everything…"

"That doesn't have anything to do with it. That's not Fralie's problem, that's between Frebec and Crozie. Fralie doesn't have to let herself be caught in the middle of their problem. She can make her own decisions, and in fact, she is. She is choosing to do nothing. Or rather, if your fears are founded – and I… believe they are – she is choosing whether to give birth now or later. She may be choosing between life for her baby, and death… and may be endangering herself as well. But, it's her choice, and there may be more to it than any of us know."

Mamut's comments stayed on her mind long after the conversation was over, and she went to bed still thinking about them. He was right, of course. In spite of Fralie's feelings for her mother and Frebec, it wasn't her fight. Ayla tried to think of some way she could convince Fralie, but she had tried before, and now with Frebec keeping her away from his hearth, she had no opportunity to talk about it. When she went to sleep the worry was heavy on her mind.

She woke up in the middle of the night, and lay still, listening. She wasn't sure what woke her, but she thought it was the sound of Fralie's voice moaning in the darkness of the earthlodge. After a long silence, she decided it must have been a dream. Wolf whimpered, and she reached up to comfort him. Perhaps he was having a bad dream, too, and that's what woke her. Her hand stopped before it reached the pup as she strained to hear what she thought was a muffled moan.

Ayla pulled the covers back and got up. Quietly, she stepped around the drape and felt her way to the basket to relieve herself, then pulled a tunic over her head and went to the fireplace. She heard a muffled cough, then a spasm of coughs, that finally stopped in an equally muffled moan. Ayla stirred the coals, added a bit of kindling and bone shavings until she had a small fire, then dropped in a few cooking stones and reached for the waterbag.

"You can make some tea for me, too, Mamut said in a quiet voice from the dark of his sleeping platform, then pushed back his covers and sat up. "I think we'll all be up soon.

Ayla nodded, and poured extra water in the cooking basket. There was another coughing spell, then stirring around and subdued voices from the Crane Hearth.

"She needs something to quiet the cough, and something to calm the labor… if it's not too late. I think I'll check my medicines," Ayla said, putting her drinking bowl down, then hesitated, "…just in case someone asks."

She picked up a firebrand and Mamut watched her moving among the racks of dried plants she had brought back with her from the valley. It's a wonder to watch her practice her healing arts, Mamut thought. She's young to have such skill, though. If I were Frebec, I would have been more concerned about her youth, and possible inexperience, than her background. I know she was trained by the best, but how can she know so much already? She must have been born with it, and that medicine woman, Iza, must have seen her gift from the beginning. His musing was interrupted by another coughing spell from the Crane Hearth.

"Here, Fralie, have a drink of water," Frebec said anxiously.

Fralie shook her head, unable to talk, trying to control the cough. She was on her side, up on one elbow, holding a piece of soft leather to her mouth. Her eyes were glazed with fever, and her face red from the exertion. She glanced at her mother, who was sitting on the bed across the passageway, glaring at her.

Crozie's anger, and her distress, were both apparent. She had tried everything to convince her daughter to ask for help: persuasion, argument, diatribe; nothing worked. Even she had gotten some medicine from Ayla for her cold, and it was stupid of Fralie not to use the help that was available. It was all the fault of that stupid man, that stupid Frebec, but it did no good to talk about it. Crozie had decided she would not say another word.

Fralie's cough subsided, and she dropped back down on the bed, exhausted. Maybe the other pain, the one she didn't want to admit to, would not come this time. Fralie waited, holding her breath so as not to disturb anything, fearfully anticipating. An ache started in her lower back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and tried to will it away. She put a hand on the side of her distended stomach and felt the muscles contract as the pain, and her anxiety, increased. It's too soon, she thought. The baby shouldn't be coming for at least another moon cycle.

"Fralie? Are you all right?" Frebec said, still standing there with the water.

She tried to smile at him, seeing his distress, his feeling of helplessness. "It's this cough," she said. "Everyone gets sick in spring."

No one understood him, she thought, least of all her mother. He was trying so hard to show everyone that he was worth something. That's why he wouldn't give in, that's why he argued so much, and was so quick to take offense. He embarrassed Crozie. He didn't understand that you showed your worth – the number and quality of your affiliations, and the strength of your influence – by how much you could claim from kin and kind to give away, so everyone could see it. Her mother had tried to show him by giving him the right to the Crane, not just the hearth Fralie brought to him when they joined, but the right to claim the Crane as his own birthright.

Crozie had expected gracious acquiescence to her wishes and requests, to show that he appreciated and understood that the Crane Hearth, which was still hers in name, though she had little else, was his to claim. But her demands could be excessive. She had lost so much it was hard for her to give away any of her remaining claim to status, particularly to one who had so little. Crozie feared he would diminish it, and she needed constant reassurance that it was appreciated. Fralie wouldn't shame him by trying to explain. It was a subtle thing, something you grew up knowing… if you always had it. But Frebec never had anything.

Fralie began to feel an ache in her back again. If she lay there quietly, maybe it would go away… if she could keep from coughing. She was beginning to wish she could talk to Ayla, at least to get something for the cough, but she didn't want Frebec to think she was siding with her mother. And long explanations would just irritate her throat, and make Frebec defensive. She began coughing again, just as the contraction was reaching a peak. She muffled a cry of pain.

"Fralie? Is it… more than the cough?" Frebec asked, looking at her hard. He didn't think a cough should make her moan like that.

She hesitated. "What do you mean, more?" she asked.

"Well, the baby… but you've had two children, you know how to do these things, don't you?"

Fralie became lost in a racking cough, and when she regained control, she sidestepped the question.

Light was beginning to show around the edges of the smoke-hole cover when Ayla went back to her bed to finish dressing. Most of the Camp had been awake half the night. First it was Fralie's uncontrollable cough that woke them, but soon it became apparent that she was suffering from more than a cold. Tronie was having some difficulty with Tasher, who wanted to return to his mother. She picked him up and carried him to the Mammoth Hearth instead. He still wailed, so Ayla took him and carried him around the large hearth, offering him objects to distract him. The wolf puppy followed her. She carried Tasher through the Fox Hearth and the Lion Hearth, and then into the cooking hearth.

Jondalar watched her approaching, trying to quiet and comfort the child, and his heart beat faster. In his mind he willed her to come closer, but he felt nervous and anxious. They had hardly spoken since he moved away and he didn't know what to say. He looked around trying to think of something that might appease the baby, and noticed a small bone from a leftover roast.

"He might want to chew on this," Jondalar volunteered, when she stepped into the large communal hearth, holding the bone out to her.

She took the bone and put it in the child's hand. "Here, would you like this, Tasher?"

The meat was gone, but it still had some flavor. He put the knob end in his mouth, tasted, decided he liked it, and finally quieted.

"That was a good idea, Jondalar," Ayla said. She was holding the three-year-old, standing close and looking up at him.

"My mother used to do that when my little sister was cranky," he said.

They looked at each other, hungering for the sight of each other and filling their eyes, not saying anything, but noticing every feature, every shadow and line, every detail of change. He's lost weight, Ayla thought. He looks haggard. She's worried, upset about Fralie, she wants to help, Jondalar thought. O Doni, she's so beautiful.

Tasher dropped the bone, and Wolf snatched it.

"Drop it!" Ayla commanded. Reluctantly, he put it down, but stood guard over it.

"You might as well let him have it now. I don't think Frebec would like it too well if you gave the bone to Tasher after Wolf had it in his mouth."

"I don't want him to keep taking things that aren't his."

"He didn't really take it. Tasher dropped it. Wolf probably thought it was meant for him," Jondalar said reasonably.

"Maybe you're right. I guess it wouldn't hurt to let him keep it." She signaled, and the young wolf dropped his guard and picked up the bone again, then walked directly to the sleeping furs Jondalar had spread out on the floor, near the flint-working area. He made himself comfortable on top of them, then began gnawing on the bone.

"Wolf, get away from there," Ayla said, starting after him.

"It's all right, Ayla… if you don't mind. He comes often and makes himself at home. I… rather enjoy him."

"No, I don't mind," she said, then smiled. "You always were good with Racer, too. Animals like you, I think."

"But not like you. They love you. I do…" Suddenly he stopped. His forehead knotted in a frown and he closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he stood up straighter and stepped back a pace. "The Mother has granted you a rare gift," he said, his tone and demeanor much more formal.

Suddenly she felt hot tears in her eyes, and a pain in her throat. She looked down at the ground, then stepped back a pace, too.

"From the sound of things, I think Tasher will have a brother or sister before long," Jondalar said, changing the subject.

"I'm afraid so," Ayla said.

"Oh? You don't think she should have the baby?" Jondalar said, surprised.

"Of course, but not now. It's too soon."

"Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure. I haven't been allowed to see her," Ayla said.

"Frebec?"

Ayla nodded. "I don't know what to do."

"I can't understand why he still belittles your skill."

"Mamut says he doesn't think that 'flatheads' know anything about healing, so he doesn't believe I could have learned anything from them. I think Fralie really needs help, but Mamut says she must ask for it."

"Mamut is probably right, but if she really is going to have a baby, she might ask."

Ayla shifted Tasher, who had stuck a thumb in his mouth, and seemed content with that for the moment. She noticed Wolf on Jondalar's familiar furs that had been, until recently, next to hers. The furs, and his nearness, made her remember Jondalar's touch, the way he could make her feel. She wished his furs were still on her bed platform. When she looked at him again, her eyes held her desire, and Jondalar felt such an instant response, he ached to reach for her, but held back. His reaction confused Ayla. He had started to look at her the way that always brought a rush of tingling feeling deep inside. Why had he stopped? She was crushed, but she had felt a moment of… something… hope, perhaps. Maybe she could find a way to reach him, if she kept trying.

"I hope she does," Ayla said, "but it may be too late to stop the labor." She started to leave, and Wolf got up to follow her. She looked at the animal, and then at the man, paused, and then asked, "If she does ask for me, Jondalar, will you keep Wolf here? I can't have him following me and getting in the way at the Crane Hearth."

"Yes, of course I will," he said, "but will he come here?"

"Wolf go back!" she said. He looked at her with a little whine in his throat, seeming to question. "Go back to Jondalar's bed!" she said, raising her arm and pointing. "Go to Jondalar's bed," she repeated. Wolf lowered his tail, crouched down, and went back. He sat down on top of the furs, and watched her. "Stay there!" she commanded. The young wolf lowered himself down, rested his head on his paws, and his eyes followed her as she turned and left the hearth.

Crozie, still sitting on her bed, watched as Fralie cried out and thrashed. Finally the pain passed, and Fralie took a deep breath, but that brought on a coughing spasm, and her mother thought she noticed a look of desperation. Crozie was feeling desperate, too. Somebody had to do something. Fralie was well into labor, and the cough was weakening her. There wasn't much hope for the baby any more, it was going to be born too early, and infants born too soon didn't survive. But Fralie needed something to ease her cough and her pain, and later, she would need something to ease her sorrow. It had done no good to talk to Fralie, not with that stupid man around. Couldn't he see that she was in trouble?

Crozie studied Frebec, who was hovering around Fralie's bed looking helpless and worried. Maybe he did, she thought. Maybe she should try again, but wouldn't do any good talking to Fralie?

"Frebec!" Crozie said. "I want to talk to you."

The man looked surprised. Crozie seldom addressed him by name, or announced that she wanted to talk to him. She usually just screamed at him.

"What do you want?"

"Fralie is too stubborn to listen, but it must be obvious to you by now that she is having the baby…"

Fralie interrupted with a choking coughing spasm.

"Fralie, tell me the truth," Frebec said when her cough eased. "Are you having the baby?"

"I… I think so," she said.

He grinned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I hoped it wasn't true."

"But why?" he asked, suddenly upset. "Don't you want this baby?"

"It's too soon, Frebec. Babies that are born too soon don't live," Crozie answered for her.

"Don't live? Fralie, is something not right? Is it true this baby won't live?" Frebec said, shocked and stricken with fear. The feeling that something was terribly wrong had been growing in him all through the day, but he had not wanted to believe it, and he didn't think it could be this wrong.

"This is the first child of my hearth, Fralie. Your baby, born to my hearth." He kneeled beside the bed and held her hand. "This baby has to live. Tell me this baby will live," he pleaded. "Fralie, tell me this baby will live."

"I can't tell you. I don't know." Her voice was strained and hoarse.

"I thought you knew about these things, Fralie. You're a mother. You have two children already."

"Each one is different," she whispered. "This one has been difficult from the beginning. I was worried that I might lose it. There was so much trouble… finding a place to settle… I don't know. I just think it's too early for this baby to be born."

"Why didn't you tell me, Fralie?"

"What would you have done about it?" Crozie said, her tone restrained, almost hopeless. "What could you do? Do you know anything about pregnancy? Childbirth? Coughs? Pain? She didn't want to tell you because you've done nothing but insult the one who could help her. Now the child will die, and I don't know how weak Fralie is."

Frebec turned to Crozie. "Fralie? Nothing can happen to Fralie! Can it? Women have babies all the time."

"I don't know, Frebec. Look at her, judge for yourself."

Fralie was trying to control a cough that threatened, and the ache in her back was starting again. Her eyes were closed, and her brows drawn in. Her hair was tangled and stringy and her face shiny with sweat. Frebec jumped up and started to leave the hearth. "Where are you going, Frebec?" Fralie asked.

"I'm going to get Ayla."

"Ayla? But I thought…"

"She's been saying you were having trouble ever since she got here. She was right about that. If she knew that much, maybe she is a Healer. Everyone keeps saying she is. I don't know if it's true, but we've got to do something… unless you don't want me to."

"Get Ayla," Fralie whispered.

The excited tension communicated itself through the earthlodge as Frebec marched down the passageway toward the Mammoth Hearth.

"Ayla, Fralie is…" he barely began, too nervous and upset to worry about saving face.

"Yes, I know. Ask someone to get Nezzie to come and help me, and bring that container. Careful, it's hot. It's a decoction for her throat," Ayla said, hurrying toward the Crane Hearth.

When Fralie looked up and saw Ayla, she suddenly felt a great relief.

"The first thing we have to do is straighten this bed and make you comfortable," Ayla said, pulling at the bedding and covers, and bolstering her with furs and pillows for support.

Fralie smiled and suddenly noticed, for some reason, that Ayla still spoke with an accent. No, not really an accent, she thought. She just had difficulty with certain sounds. Strange how easy it was to get used to something like that. Crozie's head appeared next above her bed. She handed Ayla a piece of folded leather.

"Here's her birthing blanket, Ayla." They opened it out and while Fralie shifted, they spread it beneath the woman. "It's about time they got you, but it's too late to stop the birth now," Crozie said. "Too bad, I had an intuition that this one would be a girl. It's a shame she will die."

"Don't be too certain of that, Crozie," Ayla said.

"This baby is coming early. You know that."

"Yes, but don't give up this child to the next world, yet. There are things that can be done, if it's not too early… and if the birth goes well." Ayla looked down at Fralie. "Let's wait and see."

"Ayla," Fralie said, her eyes shining, "do you think there's hope?"

"There is always hope. Now, drink this. It will quiet your cough, and make you feel better. Then we'll see how far along you are."

"What's in it?" Crozie demanded.

Ayla studied the woman for a moment before replying. There had been command implicit in her tone, but Ayla sensed that concern and interest motivated the question. The tone of her request was more a style of speaking, Ayla decided, as though she was accustomed to giving orders. But it could be misunderstood as unreasonable or demanding when someone who was not in a position of leadership assumed a commanding tone.

"The inner bark of wild black cherry, to calm her, and to calm her cough and relieve the pain of labor," Ayla explained, "boiled with the dried root of blue cohosh, first ground to a powder, to help the pushing muscles work harder to hurry delivery. She's too far into labor to stop it."

"Hmm," Crozie vocalized, nodding approval. She had been as interested in verifying Ayla's expertise as she was in knowing the exact ingredients. Crozie was satisfied, from her reply, that Ayla was not just dispensing a remedy someone had told her about, but that she knew what she was doing. Not because she knew the properties of the plants, but because Ayla did.

Everyone stopped for a few moments to visit and offer moral support as the day progressed, but the encouraging smiles had a quality of sadness. They knew Fralie was facing an ordeal that had very little hope of a happy outcome. Time dragged for Frebec. He didn't know what to expect and felt lost, unsure. The times he had been around when women were giving birth, he didn't remember that it took so long, and it didn't seem to him that childbirth was this difficult for other women. Did they all thrash and strain, and cry out like that?

There wasn't room for him at his hearth with all the women there, and he wasn't needed, anyway. No one even noticed him sitting on Crisavec's bed, watching and waiting. Finally, he got up and walked away, not sure where to go. He decided he was hungry and headed for the cooking hearth hoping to find leftover roast or something. In the back of his mind, he thought about seeking out Talut. He felt a need to talk to someone, to share this experience with someone who might understand. When he reached the Mammoth Hearth, Ranec, Danug, and Tornec were standing near the firepit talking to Mamut, partially blocking the passageway. Frebec held back, not feeling like confronting them, to ask them to move.

He hesitated, but he couldn't just stand there forever, and started across the central space of the Mammoth Hearth toward them.

"How is she, Frebec?" Tornec asked.

He was vaguely startled by the friendly question. "I wish I knew," he replied.

"I know how you feel," Tornec said, with a wry smile. "I never feel more useless than when Tronie is giving birth. I hate seeing her in pain and keep wishing there was something I could do to help, but there never is. It's a woman's thing, she has to do it. It always surprises me afterward how she forgets the trouble and the pain as soon as she sees the baby and knows it will be…" He stopped, realizing he had said too much. "I'm sorry, Frebec. I didn't mean…"

Frebec frowned, then turned to Mamut. "Fralie said she thought this baby was coming too soon. Crozie said babies that come too soon don't live. Is that true? Will this baby die?"

"I can't answer that, Frebec. It is in the hands of Mut," the old man said, "but I do know that Ayla isn't giving up. It depends how soon. Babies born early are small and weak, that's why they usually die. But they don't always die, especially if it's not too early, and the longer they live, the better their chances are. I don't know what she can do, but if anyone can do anything, Ayla can. She was given a powerful gift, and I can assure you, no Healer could have had better training. I know from firsthand experience how skilled Clan medicine women are. One of them once healed me."

"You! You were healed by a flathead woman?" Frebec said. "I don't understand. How? When?"

"When I was a young man, on my Journey," Mamut said.

The young men waited for him to continue his story, but it soon became apparent that he was volunteering no further information.

"Old man," Ranec said, with a broad smile, "I wonder how many stories and secrets are hidden within the years of your long life."

"I have forgotten more than your full life's worth, young man, and I remember a great deal. I was old when you were born."

"How old are you?" Danug asked. "Do you know?"

"There was a time when I kept track by drawing a reminder on the spirit skin of a hide each spring of a significant event that happened during the year. I filled up several, the ceremonial screen is one of them. Now I am so old I no longer count. But I will tell you, Danug, how old I am. My first woman had three children." Mamut looked at Frebec. "The firstborn, a son, died. The second child, a girl, had four children. The oldest of her four was a girl, and she grew up to give birth to Tulie and Talut. You, of course, are the first child of Talut's woman. The woman of Tulie's firstborn may be expecting a child by now. If Mut grants me another season, I may see the fifth generation. That's how old I am, Danug."

Danug was shaking his head. That was older than he could even imagine.

"Aren't you and Manuv kin, Mamut?" Tornec asked.

"He is the third child of a younger cousin's woman, just as you are the third child of Manuv's woman."

Just then, there seemed to be some excitement at the Crane Hearth and they all turned to look.

"Now, take a deep breath," Ayla said, "and push once more. You're almost there."

Fralie gasped for breath and bore down hard, holding on to Nezzie's hands.

"Good! That's good!" Ayla encouraged. "Here it comes. Here it comes! Good! There we are!"

"It's a girl, Fralie!" Crozie said. "I told you this one would be a girl!"

"How is she?" Fralie asked. "Is she…"

"Nezzie, will you help her push out the afterbirth," Ayla said, cleaning mucus from the infant's mouth as she struggled to take her first breath. There was an awful silence. Then a heart-stopping, miraculous, cry of life.

"She's alive! She's alive!" Fralie said, tears of relief and hope in her eyes.

Yes, she was alive, Ayla thought, but so small. She had never seen such a tiny baby. Yet, she was alive, struggling and kicking and breathing. Ayla put the baby face down across Fralie's stomach, and reminded herself that she had seen only Clan newborns. Babies of the Others were probably smaller to begin with. She helped Nezzie with the afterbirth, then turned the infant over and tied the umbilical cord in two places with the pieces of red-dyed sinew she had prepared. With a sharp flint knife, she cut the cord between the ties. For better or for worse, she was on her own; an independent, living, breathing human being. But the next few days would be critical.

Ayla examined the baby carefully while she was cleaning her. She seemed perfect, just exceptionally small and her cry was weak. Ayla wrapped her in a soft skin blanket and handed her to Crozie. When Nezzie and Tulie had taken away the birthing blanket, and Ayla made sure Fralie was clean and comfortable, packed with an absorbent padding of mammoth wool, her new daughter was put in the crook of Fralie's arm. Then, she motioned to Frebec to come and see the first daughter of his hearth. Crozie hovered close.

Fralie unwrapped her, then looked up at Ayla with tears in her eyes. "She's so little," she said, cuddling the tiny infant. Then she untied the front of her tunic and put the baby to her breast. The newborn nuzzled, found the nipple, and from the smile on Fralie's face, Ayla knew she suckled. But in a few moments, she let go, and seemed exhausted from the effort.

"She's so small… will she live?" Frebec asked Ayla, but it was more a plea.

"She is breathing. If she can suckle, there is hope, but to live, she will need help. She must be kept warm, and she must not be allowed to use what little strength she has for anything but nursing. All the milk she drinks must be for growing," Ayla said. Then she gave both Frebec and Crozie a stern look. "There can be no more fighting at this hearth if you want her to live. It will make her upset, and you cannot let her become upset if she is to grow. She should not even be allowed to cry, she does not have the strength to cry. It will take her milk away from growing."

"How can I keep her from crying, Ayla? How will I know when to feed her if she doesn't cry?" Fralie said.

"Both Frebec and Crozie must help you because she must be with you every moment, just as though you were still pregnant, Fralie. I think the best way would be to make a carrier that will hold her to your breast. That way, you will keep her warm. She will be comforted by your closeness and the sound of your heart, because she is used to it. But most important, any time she wants to nurse, she need only turn her head to reach your nipple, Fralie. Then she won't use up strength she needs for growing with crying."

"What about changing her?" Crozie asked.

"Coat her skin with some of that soft tallow I gave you, Crozie; I'll make more. Use clean, dry, dung packed around her to absorb her waste. Throw it out when she needs changing, but don't move her too much. And you must rest, Fralie, and not move around too much with her. It will do you good, too. We need to try to keep your cough calmed down. If she can survive the next few days, then every day she lives will make her stronger. With your help, Frebec, and Crozie, she has a chance."

A feeling of subdued hope pervaded the lodge as the drapes were closed on a red sun settling into a bank of clouds hovering on the horizon. Most people had finished their evening meal, and were stoking fires, cleaning things up, putting down children, and gathering together for the evening conversation and company. Several people were sitting around the fireplace of the Mammoth Hearth, but conversation was held down to a low murmur, as though loud voices were somehow inappropriate.

Ayla had given Fralie a mild relaxing drink, and left her to sleep. She would get little enough sleep in the days to come. Most infants settled into a routine of sleeping for a reasonable time before waking up to be fed, but Fralie's new baby couldn't nurse very long at one time, and therefore didn't sleep much before needing to nurse again. Fralie would have to get her sleep in a series of short naps, too, until the baby grew stronger.

It was almost strange to see Frebec and Crozie working together, helping each other to help Fralie, and being exceedingly courteous and restrained. It might not last, but they were trying, and some of their animosity seemed to be draining off.

Crozie had gone to bed early. It had been a difficult day and she wasn't so young any more. She was tired and she expected to be up to help Fralie later. Crisavec was still sleeping with Tulie's son, and Tronie was keeping Tasher. Frebec sat alone at the Crane Hearth, looking at the fire, feeling mixed emotions. He felt anxious and protective over the tiny infant, the first child of his hearth, and fearful. Ayla had put her in his arms to hold for a few moments while she and Crozie were making Fralie comfortable. He stared at her, awed that someone so small could be so perfect. Her diminutive hands even had fingernails. He was afraid to move, afraid he would break her, and was greatly relieved when Ayla took her back, yet he was reluctant to let her go.

Suddenly Frebec stood up and started down the passageway. He didn't want to be alone on this night. He stopped at the edge of the Mammoth Hearth and looked at the people sitting around the fire. They were the younger people of the Camp, and in the past, he would have walked by them on his way to the cooking hearth to visit with Talut and Nezzie or Tulie and Barzec or Manuv or Wymez or, lately, with Jondalar, and sometimes Danug. Even though Crozie was often at the cooking hearth, it was easier to ignore her than to face the possibility of being ignored by Deegie or disdained by Ranec. But Tornec had been friendly earlier, and his woman had given birth, and he knew how it felt. Frebec took a deep breath and walked toward the fireplace.

They broke into laughter just as he reached Tornec, and for a moment, he thought they were laughing at him. He was tempted to leave.

"Frebec! There you are!" Tornec said.

"I think there is still some tea left," Deegie said. "Let me pour you some."

"Everyone tells me she's a beautiful little girl," Ranec said. "And Ayla says she has a chance."

"We're lucky to have Ayla here," Tronie said.

"Yes, we are," Frebec replied. No one said anything for a moment. It was the first good word Frebec had ever said about Ayla.

"Maybe she can be named at the Spring Festival," Latie said. Frebec hadn't noticed her sitting next to Mamut in the shadow. "That would be good luck."

"Yes, it would," Frebec said, reaching for the cup Deegie gave him, and feeling a little more comfortable.

"I'm going to have a part in the Spring Festival, too," she announced, half-shyly and half-proudly.

"Latie is a woman," Deegie told him with the slightly condescending air of a big sister informing another adult who is knowledgeable.

"She will have her Rites of First Pleasures at the Summer Meeting this year," Tronie added.

Frebec nodded, and smiled at Latie, not quite sure what to say.

"Is Fralie still sleeping?" Ayla asked.

"She was when I left."

"I think I will go to bed, too," she said, getting up. "I'm tired." She put her hand on Frebec's arm. "Will you come and get me when Fralie wakes up?"

"Yes, I will, Ayla… and… uh… thank you," he said softly.

"Ayla, I think she's growing," Fralie said. "I'm sure she feels heavier, and she's starting to look around. She's nursing longer, too, I think."

"It's been five days. I think she may be getting stronger," Ayla agreed.

Fralie smiled, then tears came to her eyes. "Ayla, I don't know what I would have done without you. I've been blaming myself for not coming to you sooner. This pregnancy didn't feel right from the beginning, but when mother and Frebec started fighting, I couldn't take sides."

Ayla just nodded.

"I know Mother can be difficult, but she has lost so much. She was a headwoman, you know."

"I guessed as much."

"I was the oldest of four children, I had two sisters and a brother… I was about Latie's age when it happened. Mother took me to the Deer Camp to meet the son of their headwoman. She wanted to arrange a union. I didn't want to go, and I didn't like him when I met him. He was older, and more concerned about my status than me, but before the visit was over, she managed to get me to agree. The arrangements were made for our joining at the Matrimonial the next summer. When we got back to our Camp… oh, Ayla, it was awful!" Fralie closed her eyes, trying to control herself.

"No one knows what happened… there was a fire. It was an old lodge, built by Mother's uncle. People said the thatching, and wood, and bone must have been all dried out. They think it must have started at night… no one got out…"

"Fralie, I'm sorry," Ayla said.

"We had no place to go, so we turned around and went back to the Deer Camp. They were sorry for us, but not happy about it. They were afraid of bad luck, and we'd lost status. They wanted to break the agreement, but Crozie argued before the Council of Sisters and held them to it. The Deer Camp would have lost influence and status if they'd backed out. I was joined that summer, Mother said I had to. It was all we had left, but there was never much happiness in the union, except for Crisavec and Tasher. Mother was always fighting with them, particularly with my man. She was used to being headwoman, used to making decisions and having respect. It wasn't easy for her to lose it. She couldn't give it up. People started thinking of her as a bitter, nagging complainer, and didn't want to be around her." Fralie paused, then continued.

"When my man was gored by an aurochs, the Deer Camp said we were bad luck, and made us leave. Mother tried to arrange another union for me. There was some interest. I still had my birth status, they can't take away what you are born with, but no one wanted Mother. They said she was bad luck, but I think they just didn't like her complaining all the time. I couldn't blame her, though. They just didn't understand.

"The only one who made an offer was Frebec. He didn't have much to offer" – Fralie smiled – "but he offered everything he had. I wasn't sure about him at first. He never had much status, and he doesn't always know how to act – he embarrasses Mother. He wants to be worthwhile, so he tries to make himself important by saying nasty things about… other people. I decided to go away with him for a trial. Mother was surprised when we came back and I told her I wanted to accept his offer. She never has understood…"

Fralie looked at Ayla, and smiled gently. "Can you imagine what it was like being joined with someone who didn't want you, and never did care about you from the beginning? Then finding a man who wanted you so much he was willing to give everything he had, and promise everything he would ever get? That first night, after we went away together, he treated me like… a special treasure. He couldn't believe he had the right to touch me. He made me feel… I can't explain it… wanted. He's still like that when we're alone, but he and Mother started fighting right away. When it became a matter of pride between them over whether I would see you, I couldn't take away his self-respect, Ayla."

"I think I understand, Fralie."

"I kept trying to tell myself that things weren't so bad, and your medicine did help me. I always believed he would change his mind when the time came, but I wanted it to be his idea, not something I forced him to do."

"I'm glad he did."

"But I don't know what I would have done if my baby had…"

"We can't be sure yet, but I think you are right. She does seem stronger," Ayla said.

Fralie smiled. "I've decided on a name for her, I hope it makes Frebec happy. I've decided to call her Bectie."

Ayla was standing by an empty storage platform sorting through a variety of dried vegetation. There were small piles of barks, roots, and seeds, little stacks of stems, bowls of dried leaves, flowers, fruits, and some whole plants. Ranec approached her, trying to be inconspicuous about hiding something behind his back.

"Ayla, are you busy?" he said.

"No, not really, Ranec. I've been going through my medicines, to see what I will be needing. I was out today with the horses. Spring is really coming – it's my favorite season. Green buds are starting, and pussy willows – I've always loved those fuzzy little flowers. Soon everything will be greening."

Ranec smiled at her enthusiasm. "Everyone is looking forward to the Spring Festival. That's when we celebrate new life, new beginnings, and with Fralie's new baby and Latie's new womanhood, we have much to celebrate."

Ayla frowned slightly. She wasn't sure if she was looking forward to her part in the Spring Festival. Mamut had been training her, and some very interesting things had been happening, but it was a little frightening. Not as much as she thought it would be, though. Everything would be fine. She smiled again.

Ranec had been watching her, wondering what was going through her mind, and trying to think of a way to approach the subject he had come for. "The ceremony could be especially exciting this year…" He paused, searching for the right words.

"I suppose you're right," Ayla said, still thinking about her part in the festival.

"You don't sound very excited," Ranec said, smiling.

"Don't I? I really am looking forward to Fralie naming the baby, and I'm so pleased for Latie. I remember how happy I was when I finally became a woman, and how relieved Iza was. It's just that Mamut is planning something and I'm not sure about it."

"I keep forgetting that you haven't been Mamutoi very long. You don't know what a Spring Festival is all about. No wonder you're not anticipating it like everyone else." He shifted his feet nervously and looked down, then back at her. "Ayla, you might anticipate it more, I would, too, if…" Ranec stopped, decided to change his approach, and held out the object he'd been hiding. "I made this for you."

Ayla saw what he held. She looked up at Ranec, her eyes wide with surprise and delight when she saw it. "You made this for me? But why?"

"Because I wanted to. It's for you, that's all. Think of it as a spring gift," he said, urging her to take it.

She took the ivory carving, holding it carefully, and examined it. "This is one of your bird-woman figures," Ayla said with awe and pleasure, "like the one you showed me before, but it's not the same one."

His eyes lit up. "I made it especially for you, but I should warn you," he said with mock seriousness, "I put magic in it, so you will… like it, and the one who made it."

"You didn't have to put magic in it for that, Ranec."

"You like it, then? Tell me, what do you think of it?" Ranec asked, though he usually didn't ask people what they thought of his work; it didn't matter to him what they thought. He worked for himself, and to please the Mother, but this time he wanted, more than anything, to please Ayla. He had put his heart, his yearning, and his dreams into every notch he cut, every line he etched, hoping this carving of the Mother would work magic on the woman he loved.

She looked closely at the figure and noticed the downward pointing triangle. It was the symbol of woman she had learned, and one reason three was the number of generative power and sacred to Mut. The angle was repeated as chevrons, on what would be the front of the carving, if it were a woman, or the back, if it were a bird. The whole object was decorated with rows of chevrons and parallel lines in a fascinating geometric design, which was pleasing to look at by itself, but suggested more.

"It's beautifully made, Ranec. I especially like the way you did these lines. The pattern reminds me of feathers, in a way, but it also makes me think of water, like on the maps," Ayla said.

Ranec's smile turned into a delighted grin. "I knew it! I knew you would see it! The feathers of Her spirit when She becomes a bird and flies back in spring, and the birth waters of the Mother that filled the seas."

"It's wonderful, Ranec, but I can't keep it," she said, trying to give it back.

"Why not? I made it for you," he said, refusing to take it.

"But what can I give you back? I have nothing to equal the value of this."

"If that is what's worrying you, I have a suggestion. You have something I want that is worth much more than this chunk of ivory," Ranec said, smiling, his eyes flashing with humor… and love. He became more serious. "Join with me, Ayla. Be my woman. I want to share a hearth with you, I want your children to be the children of my hearth."

Ayla was reluctant to answer. Ranec could see her hesitation, and kept on talking, trying to persuade her. "Think how much we have in common. You're a Mamutoi woman, I'm a Mamutoi man, but both of us were adopted. And if we join, neither of us would have to move to another Camp. We could both stay in Lion Camp, and you could still take care of Mamut, and Rydag, and that would make Nezzie happy. But most important, I love you, Ayla, I want to share my life with you."

"I… don't know what to say."

"Say yes, Ayla. Let's announce it, include a Promise Ceremony in the Spring Festival. Then we can formalize the union at the Matrimonial this summer, when Deegie does."

"I'm not sure… I don't think…"

"You don't have to answer yet." He had hoped she was ready to agree immediately. Now he realized it might take more time, but he didn't want her to say no. "just tell me you'll give me the chance to show you how much I love you, how much I want you, how happy we can be together."

Ayla remembered what Fralie had said. It did make her feel special to know a man wanted her, that there was a man who cared about her and didn't keep avoiding her all the time. And she liked the thought of staying here where people loved her, people she loved. The Lion Camp were like her family, now. Jondalar would never stay. She had known that for a long time. He wanted to go back to his own home, and he had wanted to take her with him, once. Now he didn't seem to want her at all.

Ranec was nice, she did like him, and joining with him would mean staying here. And if she was going to have another baby, she should have it soon. She wasn't getting any younger. In spite of what Mamut had said, eighteen years seemed old to her. It would be so wonderful to have another baby, she thought. Like Fralie's baby. Only stronger. She could have a baby with Ranec. Would it have Ranec's features, his deep black eyes, his soft lips, his short wide nose, so different from the large, sharp, beaky noses of the men of the Clan? Jondalar's nose was between them in size and shape… why was she thinking about Jondalar?

Then an idea occurred to her that made her heart race with excitement. If I stay here and join with Ranec, she thought, I could go and get Durc! Next summer, perhaps. There won't be a Clan Gathering then. What about Ura? Why not get her, too? If I go away with Jondalar, I know I'll never see Durc again. The Zelandonii live too far away, and Jondalar won't want to go back for Durc and take him with us. If only Jondalar would stay, and become Mamutoi… but he won't. She looked at the dark man, and saw the love in Ranec's eyes. Maybe I should think about joining with him.

"I said I would think about it, Ranec," she said.

"I know you did, but if you need more time to think about making a Promise, at least come to my bed, Ayla. Give me a chance to show you how much I care for you. Tell me you'll do that much. Come to my bed, Ayla" – taking her hand.

She looked down, trying to sort out her feelings. She felt a strong, though subtle, compulsion to obey him. Although she recognized it for what it was, it was difficult to overcome a feeling that she should go to his bed. But more than that, she wondered if she should give him a chance, perhaps have a trial with him, like Fralie did with Frebec.

Ayla nodded, still looking down. "I'll come to your bed."

"Tonight?" he said, shaking with joy and feeling like shouting.

"Yes, Ranec. If you want. I'll come to your bed, tonight."