The Shelters of Stone

Chapter 19

As they neared Laramar and Tremeda's home, Ayla realized she had passed by it many times but hadn't paid attention. The stone shelter of Jondalar's people was so large, housed so many, and so much seemed to have happened since they arrived, it was difficult to take it in all at once. Maybe with so many people it was always this way, but it would take a while for her to become accustomed to it.

The dwelling was at the far end of the living sites, set apart from its neighbors, and farthest away from most Cave activities. The living structure itself was not large, but the family claimed a substantial amount of the surrounding area by spreading out in an untidy array, though it was difficult to distinguish between personal belongings and trash. Some distance away from the dwelling was the space Laramar appropriated to make his fermented brew, which might change in flavor depending upon his ingredients, but could always be counted on.

"Where is Bologan, Lanoga?" Zelandoni asked.

"Inside. He won't move," Lanoga said.

"Where's your mother?" the donier asked.

"I don't know."

When they moved aside the entrance drape, an unbelievably foul smell assaulted them. Except for one small lamp, the only light was the shadowed daylight reflecting off the stone above the roofless dwelling from the great overhanging shelf above the abri, and it was dark inside.

"Do you have any more lamps, Lanoga?" Zelandoni asked.

"Yes, but no oil," the girl said.

"We can tie back the drape for now. He's right here, just inside the entrance, blocking the way," Zelandoni said.

Ayla found the tieback attached to the drape and wrapped it around the post. When she looked inside, she was appalled at the filth. There were no paving stones and the dirt floor was muddy in places where liquid of some kind had found its way down. From the stench, she thought some of it was probably urine. It appeared that every piece of their household furnishings was strewn across the floor, tattered mats and baskets, pads with the stuffing half gone, piles of leather and woven material that might have been clothing.

Bones with most of the meat chewed off were scattered here and there. Flies buzzed around rotting food that was left out, she couldn't guess how many days before, on plates made of wooden slabs that were so rough, there were splinters in them. In the light she saw a rat's nest beside the entrance, containing several squirming, red, hairless newborn, their eyes still closed.

Just beyond the entrance, a skinny youth was sprawled on the ground. She had met him briefly before, but now she looked more closely. He could count perhaps twelve years, Ayla thought, and his belt indicated he was coming of age, but he was more boy than man. It was fairly obvious what had happened. Bologan was bruised and battered, and his head was covered with dried blood.

"He's been in a fight," Zelandoni said. "Someone dragged him home and left him here."

Ayla bent down to check his condition. She touched the pulse in his neck and noticed more blood, then put her cheek near his mouth. She not only felt his breath, she smelled it. "He's still breathing," she told Zelandoni, "but he's badly hurt, the pulsing is weak. His head is injured and he has lost a lot of blood, but I don't know if the bone is cracked. Someone must have hit him or he fell on something hard. That may be why he's not waking up, but he smells of barma, too."

"And I don't know if he should be moved, but I can't treat him here," Zelandoni said.

The girl walked toward the entrance, carrying on her hip a thin, lethargic baby of about six months, who looked as though she hadn't been washed since she was born. A toddler with snot running down his nose was hanging on her leg. Ayla thought she saw another child behind her, but wasn't sure. She seems to be more mother than her mother, Ayla thought.

"Bologan all right?" Lanoga said, a worried look on her face.

"He's alive, but he is injured. You did right to come and get me," the donier said. Zelandoni shook her head with exasperation and a feeling of anger toward Tremeda and Laramar. "I'll have to take care of him at my place," she said.

Normally, only the most serious maladies were attended to in the donier's dwelling; in a Cave as large as the Ninth, there wasn't room enough for all the people who were sick or injured at one time to move there. Someone with Bologan's injuries, as serious as they were, usually would be cared for in his own home, with Zelandoni going there to treat him. But there was no one at this home to take care of him, and Zelandoni couldn't bear the idea of even entering the place, much less spending any time there.

"Do you know where your mother is, Lanoga?"

"No."

"Where did she go?" Zelandoni said, rephrasing her question.

"Went to the burial," Lanoga said.

"Who is taking care of the children?"

"I am."

"But you're not able to feed that baby," Ayla said, shocked. "You can't nurse."

"I can feed her," Lanoga said, a defensive tone in her voice. "She eats food. The milk dried up."

"Which means Tremeda will have another baby within a year," Zelandoni said under her breath.

"I know babies that young can eat food if they have to," Ayla said, sympathetically, feeling a twinge of painful memory. "What do you feed her, Lanoga?"

"Mashed-up boiled roots," she said.

"Ayla, will you go tell Joharran what happened, and ask him to come here with something to carry Bologan to my dwelling? And some help to carry him?" Zelandoni said.

"Yes, of course. I'll be right back," Ayla said, hurrying away.

It was late in the afternoon when Ayla left Zelandoni's dwelling and hurried toward the leader's. She had been helping the Ninth Cave's healer and was going to tell Joharran that Bologan was awake and seemed to be coherent enough to talk.

Joharran had been waiting for her. After he left, Proleva said, "Would you like something to eat? You've been with Zelandoni all afternoon." Ayla shook her head and started to go. She opened her mouth to make apologies, but Proleva quickly added, "Or maybe a cup of tea? I have some tea ready. It's chamomile, lavender, and linden flower."

"Well, maybe a cup, but I need to get back soon," Ayla said. As she got out her drinking cup, she wondered if the mixture had been suggested by Zelandoni or whether Proleva realized that it was a good drink for pregnant women. It was innocuous, with only a mildly calming effect. She took a sip of the hot tea the woman ladled into her cup and savored the taste. It did have a nice flavor, and anybody could drink it, not just pregnant women.

"How is Bologan?" the leader's mate asked as she sat down beside Ayla with her own cup.

"I think he will be fine. He had a bad knock on the head, bled a lot. I was afraid the bone might have been cracked, but head wounds do tend to bleed heavily. We cleaned him and couldn't find any evidence of a break, but he does have a big swollen lump, and other injuries. He needs rest and care right now. It seems obvious that he was in a fight, and he was drinking barma."

"That's what Joharran wanted to talk to him about," Proleva said.

"The one that worries me even more is that baby," Ayla said. "She needs to be nursed. I'd think other nursing mothers could give a little of their milk to her. Women of the Clan did when…" she hesitated a moment "… a woman lost her milk early. She had been taking care of her mother, and grieved too much when she died." Ayla decided to refrain from mentioning that she was the woman who had lost her milk; she hadn't yet told anyone that she'd had a son when she was living with the Clan. "I asked Lanoga what she fed her. She said mashed-up roots. I know children that young can eat food, but all babies need milk, too. She won't grow right without it."

"You're right, Ayla. Babies do need milk. I'm afraid no one has been paying attention to Tremeda and her family. We know the children are not very well cared for, but they are Tremeda's children, and people don't like to interfere in other people's lives. It's hard to know what to do about them, so most of us just ignore them. I didn't even know she had lost her milk," Proleva said.

"Why didn't Laramar say something?" Ayla asked.

"I doubt that he even noticed. He doesn't pay any attention to the children, except Bologan, occasionally. I'm not sure he even knows how many there are," Proleva said. "He goes there only to eat and sleep and sometimes not even for that, which may be for the best. When they are together, Laramar and Tremeda argue all the time. It often leads to real fights, which invariably she gets the worst of."

"Why does she stay with him?" Ayla asked. "She could leave him if she wanted to, couldn't she?"

"Where would she go? Her mother is dead, and she never mated, so there never was a man at their hearth. Tremeda had an older brother, but he moved away before she grew up, first to another Cave, and then farther away. No one has heard anything about him in years," Proleva said.

"Couldn't she find another man?" Ayla asked.

"Who would have her? It's true, she manages to find some man to honor the Mother with her at a Mother Festival, usually someone who's had too much barma, or meadow mushrooms, or something else, but she's not exactly a prize. And she has six children that need to be provided for."

"Six children?" Ayla said. "I saw four, or possibly five. How many years can they count?"

"Bologan is the eldest. He can count twelve years," Proleva said.

"I guessed that," Ayla said.

"Lanoga can count ten years," Proleva continued. "Then, there's an eight-year, a six-year, a two-year, and the baby. She's only some moons, about a half-year. Tremeda had another one who would be a four-year, but he died."

"I'm afraid this baby will die. I examined her, she is not healthy. I know you said food is shared, but what about babies who need milk? Are Zelandonii women willing to share their milk?" Ayla asked.

"If it were anyone but Tremeda, I wouldn't hesitate to say yes," Proleva said.

"That baby is not Tremeda," Ayla said. "She's just a helpless infant. If my baby were here, I wouldn't hesitate to share my milk with her, but by the time mine is born, she may already be gone. Even by the time yours is born, it may be too late."

Proleva bowed her head and smiled self-consciously. "How did you know? I haven't told anyone yet."

It was Ayla's turn to feel self-conscious. She hadn't meant to presume. It was usually the mother's prerogative to announce that she was expecting a child. "I am a medicine woman, a healer," she explained. "I have helped women give birth and know the signs of pregnancy. I didn't mean to mention it until you were ready. I was just concerned about Tremeda's baby."

"I know. I don't mind, Ayla. I was getting ready to tell people anyway," Proleva said, "but I didn't know you were expecting. That means our babies will be born close together. I'm glad." She paused for a while, thinking, then she said, "I'll tell you what I think we should do. Let me get together the women who have young infants, or are almost ready to give birth. They're the ones whose milk hasn't yet adjusted to their own baby's needs and have extra. You and I can talk to them about helping to feed Tremeda's baby."

"If several of them share it, it won't be too much of a drain on any one of them," Ayla said, then she frowned. "The trouble is, that baby really needs more than milk. She needs better care. How could Tremeda leave an infant for so long with a girl who can count only ten years?" Ayla said. "Not to mention all the rest of the children. It's too much to expect of a ten-year."

"They probably get better care from Lanoga than from Tremeda," Proleva said.

"But that doesn't mean someone so young should have to do it," Ayla said. "What's wrong with Laramar? Why isn't he doing something to help? Tremeda is his mate, isn't she? They are the children of his hearth, aren't they?"

"Those are questions many of us have asked," Proleva said. "We don't have answers. Many people have spoken to Laramar, including Joharran and Marthona. It makes no difference. Laramar doesn't care what anyone says. He knows that no matter what he does, people will want that drink he makes. And Tremeda is just as bad in her own way. She is so often in a stupor from his barma, she hardly knows what goes on around her. Neither one of them seem to care about the children, I don't know why the Great Earth Mother keeps giving her more. No one really knows what to do." There was frustration and sadness in the voice of the tall, handsome woman who was the mate of the leader.

Ayla didn't have an answer, but she knew she had to do something.

"Well, there is one thing we can do. We can talk to the women and see about getting some milk for the baby. It's a start." She put her cup back in her carrying pouch and stood up. "I should be getting back now."

When Ayla left Proleva's, she didn't return directly to Zelandoni's place. She was concerned about Wolf and wanted to stop at Marthona's first. When she went in, the whole family was there, including Wolf. He rushed at her, so pleased to see her that Ayla was almost knocked down when the large wolf jumped up on his hind legs and landed with his paws in front of her shoulders. But she had seen him coming and managed to brace herself. She allowed him to give her the canine greeting to the leader of the pack, licking her neck and taking her jaw gently in his teeth. Then she held his head between both her hands by the thick fur of his ruff and gently bit his jaw. She looked into his adoring eyes and buried her face in his fur. She was glad to see him, too.

"It startles me when he does that to you, Ayla," Willamar said as he got up from a cushion on the floor.

"It used to scare me, too," Jondalar said. "I trust him now, I'm not afraid for Ayla anymore. I know he won't hurt her, and I've seen what he can do to someone else who might try, but I admit, that special greeting of his does surprise me sometimes."

When Willamar approached, they greeted each other with a quick touching of right cheeks. By now Ayla had learned that it was a customary informal greeting between family members or very close friends.

"I'm sorry I couldn't go with you to see the horses, Ayla," Folara said as they greeted each other the same way.

"There's time for you to get to know the horses," she said, then touched Marthona's cheek with hers. The greeting with Jondalar was similar, but more lingering and closer. More like an embrace.

"I have to go back and help Zelandoni," Ayla said, "but I was a little concerned about Wolf. I'm glad he returned here. It means he feels that this is his home, even if I'm not here."

"How is Bologan?" Marthona asked.

"He is awake and able to talk, finally. I just came to tell Joharran." Ayla wondered if she should mention her concerns about Tremeda's baby. She was a stranger still, and maybe it wasn't appropriate for her to bring it up. It could be construed as criticism of the Ninth Cave, but nobody else seemed to know about the situation, and if she didn't say something, who would? "I talked to Proleva about another thing that bothers me," she said.

There were looks of interest from Jondalar's family. "What?" Marthona asked.

"Did you know that Tremeda's milk has dried up? She hasn't been home since Shevonar's burial, and she left the baby and the rest of her children for Lanoga to care for and feed. That girl can count only ten years, she can't nurse. All that baby is eating is mashed-up roots. She needs milk. How can a baby grow right without milk? And where is Laramar? Doesn't he care at all?" Ayla said in a rush, blurting it all out at once.

Jondalar glanced around at everyone. Folara was aghast; Willamar looked a little stunned; and Marthona was caught off guard, which didn't please her at all. Jondalar had to hold back a smile at the expressions on their faces. He wasn't surprised at Ayla's response to someone who needed help, but Laramar, Tremeda, and family had long been an embarrassment to the Ninth Cave. Most people didn't talk about it, but Ayla had just brought it out into the open.

"Proleva said she didn't know that Tremeda's milk was gone," Ayla continued. "She's going to get the women together who can help, and we're going to talk to them, explain what the baby needs, and ask them to share some of their milk. She thought the new mothers, and the ones who are almost ready to give birth, would be the ones to ask. This is such a big cave, there must be many women who could help feed that baby."

Jondalar knew they could, but he wondered if they would, and he speculated about whose idea it was; he thought he knew. He was aware that women sometimes nursed children other than their own, but usually it was a sister or a close friend whose infant they were willing to share their milk with.

"That sounds like an admirable idea," Willamar said.

"If they're willing," Marthona said.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Ayla said. "Zelandonii women wouldn't let a baby die for lack of a little milk, would they? I did tell Lanoga I would go there tomorrow in the morning and teach her how to make more than mashed roots for the baby."

"What can a baby eat besides milk?" Folara asked.

"Many things," Ayla said. "If you scrape cooked meat, you get a soft substance that a baby can eat, and they can drink the liquid left after you boil meat. Nuts, ground to mush and mixed with some liquid, and grain that has been ground very fine and cooked, are good for them. Any vegetable can be cooked until it's soft, and some fruit just needs to be mashed, though the seeds have to be strained out. I always poured fruit juice through bunched-up fresh cleavers. They're full of prickles and stick together easily and catch the seeds. Babies can eat almost anything their mothers can eat, if it's smooth and fine enough."

"How do you know so much about food that babies can eat?" Folara asked.

Ayla stopped and flushed with dismay. She hadn't expected the question. She knew babies were not limited to nursing because Iza had taught her how to make food for Uba when the woman got sick and lost her milk. But Ayla's knowledge had expanded manifold when Iza died, and Ayla was so devastated by the loss of the only mother she knew, her milk dried up. Though the other women in Brun's small clan who were nursing all fed Durc, she'd had to supplement with regular food to keep him satisfied and healthy.

But she wasn't ready to tell Jondalar's family about her son just yet. They had recently said they wanted to accept her into the Zelandonii, make her one of them, even though they knew she had been raised by the people they called flatheads and considered to be animals. She would never forget the pain she had felt at Jondalar's first reaction when she told him that she had a son who was a mixture of both, of mixed spirits. Because the spirit of one of those people he thought of as animals had mixed with hers to start a life growing inside her, he had looked at her as though she were a filthy hyena and called her an abomination. She was worse than the child, because she had produced him. Jondalar had learned more about the Clan since then, and he did not feel that way anymore, but what about his people, his family?

Her mind raced. What would his mother say if she knew that her son wanted to mate with a woman who was an abomination? Or Willamar, or Folara, or the rest of his family? Ayla looked at Jondalar, and though usually she could discern his feelings and know what he was thinking by interpreting his expression or his demeanor, this time she could not. She didn't know what he would wish her to say.

She had been raised with the understanding that she had to answer a direct question with a truthful answer. Ayla had since learned that unlike the Clan, the Others, her kind of people, could say things that were not true. They even had a word for it. It was called a lie. For a moment, she actually thought about saying a lie, but what could she say? She was sure they would know it if she tried; she didn't know how to lie. At most, she could refrain from mentioning, but it was hard not to reply when she was asked a direct question.

Ayla had always supposed that his people were bound to find out about Durc sometime. He was often in her thoughts, and she knew there would come a moment when she would forget or decide not to refrain from mentioning him. She didn't want to avoid talking about Durc forever. He was her son. But this was not the time.

"I know about making baby food, Folara, because after Uba was born, Iza lost her milk early and she taught me how to make food that Uba could eat. A baby can eat anything its mother can eat if you make it soft and easy to swallow," Ayla said. It was the truth, but it was not the whole truth. She refrained from mentioning her son.

"You do it like this, Lanoga," Ayla said. "You pull the scraper across the meat. It gets the essence out and leaves the fibrous part behind. See? Now you try it."

"What are you doing here?"

Ayla jumped with a start at the voice, then turned to face Laramar. "I'm showing Lanoga how to prepare some food that this baby can eat, since her mother has no more milk for her," she said. She was sure she detected a look of surprise flit across his face. So he didn't know, she thought.

"Why should you bother? I doubt that anyone else cares," Laramar said.

Not even you, she thought, but held her tongue. "People care. They just didn't know," she said. "We only found out when Lanoga came and got Zelandoni because Bologan was hurt."'

"Bologan is hurt? What happened?"

This time there was concern in his voice. Proleva was right, Ayla thought. He does have some feelings for the eldest. "He drank your barma and…"

"Drank my barma! Where is he? I'll teach that boy to get into my barma!" Laramar stormed.

"You don't have to," Ayla said. "Someone already did. He got in a fight, someone hit him hard, or he fell and hit his head on a rock. He was brought back home and left. Lanoga found him unconscious and went to find Zelandoni. That's where he is now. He was badly hurt and lost a lot of blood, but with rest and care, he should be fine. But he won't tell Joharran who hit him."

"I'll take care of it, I know how to get it out of him," Laramar said.

"I haven't lived with this Cave very long, and it's not my place to say, but I think you should talk to Joharran first. He's very angry and wants to know who did it, and why. Bologan was lucky. It could have been much worse," Ayla said.

"You're right. It's not your place to say," Laramar said. "I'd rather take care of it myself."

Ayla said nothing. There was nothing she could do about it, except tell Joharran. She turned to the girl. "Come on, Lanoga. Get Lorala and we'll go," she said, picking up her Mamutoi haversack.

"Where are you going?" Laramar said.

"We're going to take a swim and clean up a little before we go to talk with some of the women who are nursing, or will be soon, and ask them if they will share some of their milk with Lorala," Ayla said. "Do you know where Tremeda is? She should come to this meeting, too."

"Isn't she here?" Laramar said.

"No. She left the children with Lanoga, and hasn't returned since she went to Shevonar's burial," Ayla said. "In case you're interested, the rest of the children are with Ramara, Salova, and Proleva right now." It was Proleva who had suggested that she get Lanoga and the baby cleaned up a little. Women with infants might not want to hold such a grimy baby for fear she might soil their own child.

As Lanoga picked up the baby, Ayla signaled Wolf, who had been lying down watching the activities, partly hidden by a log. Laramar hadn't seen the animal, and when Wolf stood up, his eyes widened with surprise as he became aware of what a large, powerful carnivore he actually was. The man backed off a few steps, then gave the foreign woman an insincere smile.

"That's a big animal. Are you sure it's safe to bring him around people, especially children?" he asked.

He doesn't care about children, Ayla thought, reading his subtle body language. He's talking about children and implying that I am doing something that might harm people to hide his own fear. Other people had voiced a similar concern without offending her, but she disapproved of Laramar because he had so little concern for the children for whom he should have been responsible. She didn't like the man, and his objections evoked a negative reaction in her.

"Wolf has never threatened a child. The only person he ever harmed was a woman who attacked me," Ayla said, looking directly into his eyes. Among the people of the Clan, such a direct glare would have been construed as a threat, and a subliminal impression of that was communicated. "Wolf killed the woman," she added. Laramar took another step back, grinning nervously.

That was not a smart thing to say, Ayla thought as she walked toward the front terrace with Lanoga, the baby, and Wolf. Why did I say it? She looked down at the animal trotting confidently beside her. I was acting almost like a wolf leader, making a lower-ranked pack member back down. But this is not a wolf pack, and I am not a leader. He's already talking against me, I might be making trouble for myself.

When they started down the path at the lower end of the terrace, Ayla offered to carry the baby for a while, but Lanoga said no and shifted Lorala on her hip. Wolf sniffed at the ground, and Ayla noticed hoofprints. The horses had come this way before. She was going to point them out to the girl, but changed her mind. Lanoga didn't talk much, and Ayla didn't want to pressure her into uncomfortable conversation.

They reached the edge of The River, and as they continued along the bank of waterway, Ayla stopped now and then to examine a plant. With a digging stick she carried pushed through her waist thong, she removed several plants with the roots. The girl watched her, and Ayla was going to show her the defining characteristics of the vegetation so she could find it herself, but decided to wait until after she understood their use.

The spring-fed creek that separated the Ninth Cave from Down River tumbled down from the stone porch in a narrow waterfall, then became a minor tributary of The River. Ayla stopped when they reached the water flowing out of the groove it had worn into the limestone and over the edge in a thin cascade of gurgling, foaming liquid. Somewhat beyond the falls, large stones had broken loose from the limestone wall and created a kind of dam with a small pond behind it. One of the stones had a natural basin with mosslike water plants lining it.

The water that filled it came primarily from rain and the back-splashing spray of the waterfall. In the summer, when there was less rain, the water level of the basin was lower and she thought the sun might have warmed it. She dipped her hand in. As she expected, it was tepid, a little cool, but warmer than the water in the pool, and the water plants made the bottom of the basin soft.

Ayla put down her carrying sack. "I brought some food, do you want to feed Lorala now or later?" she asked.

"Now," Lanoga said.

"All right, let's eat now," Ayla said. "I have some cooked grain, and that meat that we scraped for Lorala. I brought enough food for all of us. Even some meaty bones for Wolf. What do you use to feed the baby?"

"My hand," she said.

Ayla looked at her dirty hands. It didn't matter. She had fed the child with her dirty hands before, but the woman decided to show her anyway. She held up the plants she had collected on the way.

"Lanoga, I'm going to show you what these plants are for," Ayla said. The girl looked at them. "They are called soaproot. There are several different kinds, and some work better than others. First I will wash the dirt off of them in this little stream," she explained, showing Lanoga how to clean them. Then she looked for a round hard stone and a level place on one of the fallen boulders near the basin. "Next, you need to crush the roots. They will work if you just crush them, but soaking draws out more of the slippery juice." The girl watched closely, but said nothing.

Ayla got a small watertight woven basket out of the pack she carried over one shoulder and moved to the stone basin. "Water by itself doesn't always get dirt off very well. Soaproot makes it easier. The water in this basin is a little warmer than the water in the stream. Would you like to feel it?" Ayla said.

"I don't know," the girl said, looking at her as if she didn't quite understand.

"Lanoga, come here and put your hand in this water," Ayla said.

She came closer and put the hand that was not holding the baby in the water.

"It's warmer isn't it? Do you like how it feels?" Ayla said.

"I don't know," Lanoga said.

Ayla dipped a little of the tepid water into the basket, added the crushed soaproot, and mixed it around with her hand. Then she took out a little of the mashed plant and rubbed her hands together. "Lanoga, put the baby down, pick up some of this soaproot, and do what I am doing," the woman said.

The girl watched her, lifted the baby off her hip, put her down in the dirt near her feet, then slowly reached for the soaproot. She dipped it in the water and rubbed her hands together. A little foam started to form, and a brief expression of interest crossed Lanoga's face. The saponin-filled roots did not create an abundance of soapy lather, but it was enough to clean her hands.

"Good soaproot should be slippery and make some foam," Ayla said. "Now rinse it off, like this. See how much cleaner your hands are?" The girl dipped her hands in the water and then looked at them. Again an expression of interest crossed her face. "Let's eat now."

Ayla went back to where her haversack was and took out some packages. One was a carved wooden bowl with a lid, tied on with cordage wrapped around it. She untied the cords, removed the lid, and lightly touched the top of the contents. "It is still slightly warm."s he said, showing her the congealed mass of finely ground cooked grains of different varieties. "I collected this grain last fall when Jondalar and I were on our Journey. There are some rye seeds and wheat seeds, and some oats. I added a little salt while it was cooking. The little black seeds come from a plant I call goosefoot, but it has a different Zelandonii name. The leaves are good to eat, too. I made this cereal for Lorala. I think there's enough for you and me, too, but why don't you see if she likes the meat we scraped first."

The meat was wrapped in some large plantain leaves. Ayla handed it to Lanoga and watched to see what she would do. She opened the package, took some of the mushy substance in her fingers, and put it in the baby's mouth while she was sitting on her hip. The child opened her mouth readily for her sister, but at the first taste, she looked surprised. She moved it around in her mouth, examining the taste and texture, and when she finally swallowed it, she opened her mouth for more. She reminded Ayla of a little bird.

Lanoga smiled, and Ayla realized it was the first time she had seen the girl smile. Lanoga fed her sister the rest of the meat, then started on the cereal. She took a taste herself first, then put some in the baby's mouth. They both watched her reaction to the new taste. With an expression of intense concentration, she examined it with her mouth, even chewing the somewhat gummy concoction. She seemed to think about it for a moment, then swallowed and opened her mouth for more. Ayla was amazed at how much the baby was able to eat, but only when she finally stopped opening her mouth did Lanoga put another taste in her own mouth.

"If you give her something to hold, does Lorala put it in her mouth?" Ayla asked.

"Yes," the girl said.

"I brought a little piece of marrow bone. I knew a boy who used to love them when he was a baby," Ayla said with a smile of fond remembrance and sorrow. "Give it to her and see if she likes it." Ayla handed her a small piece of deer leg bone, with a hole in the center filled with rich marrow. As soon as Lanoga gave her the bone, the baby put it in her mouth. Again there was that startled look as she stopped and examined the taste, but soon they could hear her making sucking sounds. "Put her down and eat something yourself, Lanoga."

Wolf had been watching the baby from the place a few feet away where Ayla had motioned him to stay. Making little yearning whines, he crept slowly toward the infant as she was sitting on a patch of grass. Lanoga watched him a moment, than turned toward Ayla with a look of concern. She hadn't even acknowledged the presence of the animal before.

"Wolf loves children," Ayla said. "He wants to play with her, but I think that marrow bone might distract him a little. If she drops it, he might think she is giving it to him and take it. I brought a bone with some meat on it for him. I'll give it to him over there by The River while we have our meal."

Ayla pulled a rather large, leather-wrapped package out of her haversack and opened it to reveal some pieces of cooked bison and one good-size raw bone with some hard, dry pieces of brownish meat clinging to it. She got up, signaled Wolf to follow her, and walked toward the large stream, then gave him the bone. He seemed content to settle down with it.

When she returned, she started taking several more things out of her carrying pack. She had brought a variety of foods. Besides the meat and cereal, she had several things left over from her Journey. There were some dried pieces of a starchy root; some roasted pine nuts from stone pines; some hazelnuts in their shells; and slices of small dried apples, tart and tasty.

As they were eating, Ayla talked to the girl. "Lanoga, I told you we were going to swim and clean up a little before we go to talk to the women, but I think I should tell you why. I know you've done the best you know how to feed Lorala, but she needs more than mashed roots to be healthy and grow properly. I showed you how to fix other things to feed her, like scraping the meat so she can eat it, even though she doesn't have teeth yet. But what she needs most is milk, at least some milk." The girl watched her while she ate, but did not say anything.

"Where I grew up, women always fed each other's babies, and if the milk of one of the mothers dried up, the other women would take turns feeding her baby. Proleva told me that Zelandonii women feed other babies, too, but usually only family or close kin. Your mother doesn't have any siblings or cousins who are nursing mothers, so I'm going to ask the women who are nursing, or will be soon, if they will help. But mothers get very protective of their own babies. They may not want to hold a baby who isn't clean and doesn't smell nice, and afterward hold their own.

"We need to clean Lorala so she will be fresh and appealing to the other mothers. We are going to use that soaproot we used on our hands. I will show you how to bathe her, because you will have to keep her clean, and since you will probably be the one who will have to bring her to the women to nurse her, you need to bathe, too. I brought something for you to wear. Proleva got it for me. It's been worn before, but it is clean. The girl who wore it got too big for it." Lanoga did not respond, and Ayla wondered why she said so little. "Do you understand?" she asked.

Lanoga nodded and kept on eating, now and then glancing at her sister, who was still working on the marrow bone. Ayla thought the baby was starving for foods that offered some of the nourishment she had been lacking. Boiled starchy roots weren't enough for a growing infant. By the time Lanoga had her fill, the baby seemed to be getting sleepy, and Ayla thought they should wash her now and let her sleep later. She put the containers away and stood up, then noticed a distinctive odor.

The girl noticed it, too. "She messed," Lanoga said.

"There's some moss by the little stream. Let's clean her off before we give her a bath," Ayla said. The girl just looked at her. The woman picked the baby up. She seemed surprised, but did not object. Ayla carried her to the runoff creek, knelt down near the edge, plucked a handful of moss growing on nearby stones, dipped it in the water, and, holding the baby over her arm, used it to wipe her bottom. With a second handful, she did it again. As she was examining her to make sure she was clean, the baby produced a warm stream. Ayla held her over the ground until she was done, washed her with moss again, then handed her to Lanoga.

"Bring the baby to the basin, Lanoga. It's time to get her cleaned up. Why don't you put Lorala in here," Ayla said, indicating the water-filled stone depression.

The girl gave her a puzzled look, but didn't move. Her brow wrinkled in thought, Ayla studied her. She didn't think the girl lacked intelligence, though she hardly spoke, but more that she didn't seem to understand what to do. Suddenly Ayla remembered a time, when she first lived with the Clan, that she hadn't known what to do, and it made her think. She had noticed that the girl seemed to respond best to direct statements.

"Lanoga, put the baby in this water," she said. It was not a conversational request, but a statement, almost a command.

Lanoga moved slowly toward the stone basin, started to lift the naked baby from her hip, but seemed a little reluctant to let go of her sister. Ayla picked Lorala up from the back, holding her under the arms so that she faced Lanoga, let her feet dangle, and slowly lowered her into a sitting position in the middle of the water in the stone depression.

The lukewarm water was a new sensation to the child and coaxed her to explore her surroundings. She reached into the water, then pulled her hand out and looked at it. She tested it again, this time accidentally splashing it a little, which caused her to look again, then she pulled her hand out and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Well, she didn't cry, Ayla thought. It's a good start.

"Put your hand in this basket, Lanoga, and feel how slippery the water is because of the soaproot." The girl did as she was told. "Now, hold some in your hand and let's rub it on Lorala."

As both pairs of hands rubbed the slippery liquid with bits of root on the baby, she sat still, but with a little frown on her face. It was a new but not totally unpleasant sensation. "Now we need to wash her hair," Ayla said, thinking this might be more difficult. "We'll start by rubbing some soaproot on the back of her head. You can wash her ears and neck, too."

She watched the girl and noticed that she handled the baby with calm assurance and seemed to be getting more comfortable with the process of bathing her. Ayla stopped for a moment with a sudden realization. I wasn't much older than Lanoga when I had Durc! Perhaps I could count a year or two more, that's all. Of course, I had Iza to teach me how to take care of him, but I learned.

"Next, lay her on her back, support her with one hand, don't let her face get in the water, and wash the top of her hair with your other hand," Ayla told her. She helped Lanoga ease the baby back. Lorala resisted somewhat, but the girl's hands were sure now, and the child didn't object to the warmish water once she was in it, secure in her sister's arms. Ayla helped wash her hair, and then with her hands still soapy, she washed the baby's legs and bottom. They had been soaking in the water, which in itself was getting a bit slick.

"Now wash her face, very carefully, just using your hands and the water. Don't let anything get in her eyes. It won't hurt, but it may make her uncomfortable," Ayla said.

When they were through, they sat the baby up again. The woman pulled a very soft, pliable yellowish hide out of her pack, laid it out, lifted the baby out of the water, and wrapped her in it. She gave the baby to Lanoga. "Here she is, all clean and fresh." She noticed the girl rubbing the soft suede-leather of the drying blanket. "It is nice and soft, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lanoga said, looking up at the woman.

"That was given to me as a gift by some people I met on our Journey. They were called Sharamudoi, and they were known for making the skins of chamois soft like that. Chamois are animals that live in the mountains near their home. They are something like mountain goats, but they are smaller than ibex. Do you know if there are chamois around here, Lanoga?"

"Yes," the girl said. Ayla waited, smiling encouragingly. She had discovered that Lanoga responded to questions or direct commands, but didn't seem to know how to engage in conversation. She didn't know how to talk to people. Ayla kept smiling, waiting. Lanoga frowned, then finally said, "Some hunters brought one."

She can talk! She volunteered a statement, Ayla thought, feeling pleased. She just needed some encouragement. "You can keep that hide, if you want," she said.

Lanoga's face showed a range of expressions the woman didn't expect. First her eyes lit up, then showed doubt, and then fear. Then she frowned and shook her head. "No. Can't."

"Do you want the hide?"

The girl looked down. "Yes."

"Then why can't you keep it?"

"Can't keep it," the girl said, then hesitated. "Won't let me. Someone will take it."

Ayla began to understand. "All right, let's do it this way. You keep it for me. Then you will have it when you want to use it."

"Someone will take it," Lanoga repeated.

"Tell me if someone takes it, then I will go and take it back," Ayla said.

Lanoga started to smile, then frowned and shook her head again. "Someone will get mad."

Ayla nodded. "I understand. I will keep it, then, but remember, any time you want to use it, for Lorala or for you, you can come and borrow it. If someone wants to take it, tell them it belongs to me."

Lanoga took the soft hide off the baby and put her down on a patch of grass. She gave the hide to the woman. "She'll mess it," she said.

"That wouldn't be so bad. We'd just have to wash it. Let's put her on it. It's softer than the grass," Ayla said. She spread it out and laid the baby on it, noticing that it still retained a slight, but pleasant, smoky odor.

After a hide was cleaned and scraped, it was processed often with the brains of the animal, then worked and stretched while it dried to a beautiful soft, napped finish. The nearly white hide was then tanned over a smoky fire. The wood and other fuel that was burned determined the color of the hide, usually tan with a brownish or yellowish hue, and, to a slight degree, the texture of the finished piece. The tanning wasn't done primarily for the color, however, it was done to maintain elasticity. While a hide might be soft before tanning, if it got wet and wasn't worked and stretched again, it would dry stiff and hard. But once the smoke coated the collagen fibers, a change took place that kept the leather soft even through a washing. Smoke tanning was what made animal hides truly usable.

Ayla noticed that Lorala's eyes were closing. Wolf had finished with his bone and had moved closer while they were washing the baby, too curious to stay away. Ayla had glanced up and seen him. Now she signaled him to come closer, and he ran toward them.

"It's our turn to bathe," Ayla said. She looked at the animal. "Wolf, watch Lorala, watch the baby." Her hand signals told him the same thing. It wasn't the first time the wolf had been left to guard a sleeping child. Lanoga had a slight frown of concern. "He'll stay right here and make sure nothing harms her, and he'll let us know if she wakes up. We will be right over there in that pond behind the stone dam. You will be able to see them. We're going to wash ourselves the same way we washed Lorala, but our water will be colder," Ayla added with a smile.

The woman picked up her haversack and the basket of soaking soaproot on their way to the pond. She took off her clothes and stepped in first. She demonstrated how to clean herself and helped Lanoga wash her hair, then took out two more pieces of the hide toweling and a long-toothed comb she had gotten from Marthona. After they dried, she worked the snarls and tangles out of Lanoga's hair and, with a second comb, did her own.

Then, from the bottom of the carrying pack, she took out a tunic. Though it had been used, it was not worn. It looked new and had a simple decoration of fringes and some beadwork. Lanoga looked at it with longing and then touched it softly. She smiled when Ayla told her to put it on.

"I want you to wear this when we go to see the women," Ayla said. Lanoga did not object, did not say a word, in fact, and did not hesitate to put it on. "We should go now. It is getting late. They are probably waiting for us."

They followed the path back up to the stone terrace and started toward the living section and Proleva's dwelling. Wolf fell back, and as Ayla turned to find him, she noticed he was looking back the way they had come. She followed his gaze and saw a woman and a man some distance behind. The woman weaved and stumbled as she walked. The man stayed beside her, but not very close, though one time he caught her when she almost fell down. When the woman turned toward Laramar's living space, Ayla realized she was Lanoga and Lorala's mother, Tremeda.

For a moment, Ayla wondered if she should try to bring her to the meeting with the women, but she decided against it. The women were likely to be much more sympathetic toward a pretty girl carrying a clean baby than they would be if a woman who had probably drunk too much barma was with them. Ayla started to go on, but her eye was caught by the man. He did not turn in with the woman, but kept on coming.

There was something about his shape and the way he moved that seemed familiar. He saw her and kept looking at her while he approached. As he drew closer, Ayla identified the man and, watching him, suddenly knew what she had recognized. The man was Brukeval, and though he might not like it, what Ayla saw was the sturdy shape and confident, effortless movement of a man of the Clan.

Brukeval smiled at her as though he was genuinely glad to see her, and she smiled back before she turned around and hurried Lanoga and the baby toward Proleva's dwelling. She glanced back for a moment and noticed that his smile had turned to a look of anger, as though she had done something to displease him, and she wondered what it was.

She saw me coming and then turned away, Brukeval thought. She couldn't even wait to exchange a greeting. I thought she would be different…