The Shelters of Stone

Chapter 36

The summer waxed, and the days became hotter. The grasses of the fields grew tall and turned golden, their heads nodding with the weight of their seed – the promise of new life. Ayla's body grew heavy, too, filled with the new life of her unborn child. She was working beside Jondalar, pulling seeds from wild oats, when she felt movement for the first time. She stopped and pressed her hand to her bulging middle. Jondalar saw the motion.

"What's wrong, Ayla?" he asked with a worried frown.

"I just felt the baby move. It's the first time I've felt life!" she said. She seemed to be smiling inwardly. "Here," she said, taking the winnowing stone from Jondalar's large hand and placing his hand on her stomach. "Maybe the baby will move again."

He waited expectantly, but felt nothing. "I don't feel anything," he finally said. Just then there was a small movement under his hand, barely a ripple. "I felt it! I felt the baby!" he said.

"The movement will get stronger later," Ayla said. "Isn't it wonderful, Jondalar? What would you like the baby to be? A boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't matter. I just want the baby to be healthy, and I want you to have an easy birthing. What do you want your baby to be?" he asked.

"I think I'd like a girl, but I'd be just as happy with a boy. It doesn't really matter. I just want a baby, your baby. It is your baby, too."

"Hey, you two. The Fifth Cave is sure to win if you keep loafing like that." They turned to watch a young man approaching. He was average height, with a compact, wiry build. He walked with a crutch under one arm, carrying a skin of water with his other. "Would you like some water?" he said.

"Hello, Matagan! It's hot, this water is welcome," Jondalar said, taking the bag, lifting it over his head, and letting the water pour from the spout into his mouth. "How is the leg?" he said, handing the waterbag to Ayla.

"Getting stronger all the time. I may be able to throw this stick away before long," he answered, smiling. "I'm only supposed to be carrying water for the Fifth Cave, but I saw my favorite healer and thought I'd cheat a little. How are you feeling, Ayla?"

"I'm fine. I felt life for the first time a little while ago. The baby is growing," she said. "Who do you think is ahead?"

"It's hard to say. The Fourteenth has several basketfuls already, but the Third just located a new large stand."

"How about the Ninth?" Jondalar asked.

"I think they have a chance, but I'll wager on the Fifth," the young man replied.

"You're biased. You just want the prizes." Jondalar laughed. "What did the Fifth Cave donate this year?"

"The dried meat from two aurochs killed at the first hunt, a dozen spears, and a large wooden bowl carved by our best carver. What about the Ninth?"

"A large skin of Marthona's wine, five birch spear-throwers with carvings, five firestones, and two of Salova's large baskets, one filled with hazelnuts, the other with tart apples," Jondalar replied.

"It's Marthona's wine I'm going to try for, if the Fifth wins. I hope the bones are lucky for me. Once I can get rid of this stick," he lifted the crutch, "I'm going to move back into the men's tent. I think I could move back now, stick or not, but my mother doesn't want me to go yet. She has been wonderful, no one could have cared more, but now I'm getting a little too much mothering. You'd think I was five years old ever since the accident," he said.

"You can't blame her," Ayla said.

"I don't blame her. I understand. I just want to get back to the men's tent. I'd even invite you to the party we'd have with the wine, if you weren't mated, Jondalar."

"Thanks anyway, but I've had enough of men's tents. Someday, when you're older, you'll find out that being mated isn't as bad as you think," Jondalar said.

"But you've already got the woman I want," the young man said, casting a teasing glance at Ayla. "If I had her, I'd be willing to move out of the men's tent, too. When I saw her at your Matrimonial, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. I could hardly believe my eyes. I think every man thought so and wished he were in your place, Jondalar."

Though in the beginning Matagan was shy around Ayla, he lost his uneasiness after getting to know her during the many days she went to the zelandonia lodge to assist in his care. Then his natural outgoing friendliness and developing easy charm began to express themselves.

"Listen to him," Ayla said, smiling and patting her protruding middle. "Some 'beautiful.' An old woman with a belly full."

"That makes you more beautiful than ever. And I like older women. I may mate one someday, if I can find one like you," Matagan said.

Jondalar smiled at the young man, who reminded him of Thonolan. It was obvious he was infatuated with Ayla, but he was going to be a charmer someday, and he might need it if he ended up being permanently lame. Jondalar didn't mind if he practiced a little on Ayla. He had once been in love with an older woman, too.

"And you are my favorite healer." His eyes turned more serious. "I woke up a few times when I was being carried on the stretcher, and I thought I was dreaming when saw you. I thought you were a beautiful donii come to take me to the Great Mother. I'm sure you saved my life, Ayla, and I don't think I'd be walking at all if it weren't for you."

"I just happened to be there, and did what I could," Ayla said.

"That may be, but you know, if there is ever anything you need…" He looked down, his face flushed with embarrassment. He was having trouble saying what he wanted to say. He looked at her again. "If there is ever anything I can do for you, you only have to ask."

"I remember a time when I thought Ayla was a donii," Jondalar said to ease his distress. "Did you know she sewed my skin together? On our Journey, I can remember a time when an entire S’Armunai Camp thought she was the Mother Herself, a living donii come to help Her children. For all I know, maybe she is, the way men fall in love with her."

"Jondalar! Don't fill him full of such nonsense," Ayla said. "And we'd better get back to work, or the Ninth Cave will lose. Not only that, but I want to keep some of this grain for a couple of horses, and maybe for a new foal. I'm glad we collected so much rye when it ripened, but the horses like oats better."

She looked into the basket, which was hanging around her neck so her hands would be free, to see how many seeds were in it, then positioned the stone in her hand and set to work. With one hand she held together a few stalks of ripe wild grains, with the other she grasped the stalks so that the round stone was pressed against them a little below the seed heads. Then, in a smooth motion, she pulled the stalks through her hand in one motion so that the hard stone stripped the seeds off into her hand. She emptied them into the basket and reached for the next few stalks.

It was slow, meticulous work, but not difficult once you got into the rhythm of it. Using a stone helped to strip the stalks more efficiently, and therefore faster. When Ayla asked, no one could remember where the idea came from, they'd been doing it that way for as long as anyone could remember.

As Matagan limped away, Ayla and Jondalar were both stripping grain seeds into their baskets. "You have a devoted admirer in the Fifth Cave, Ayla," Jondalar said. "Many others feel that way. You've made friends at this Meeting. Most people think of you as a Zelandoni. They are not used to a healer who is not a donier."

"Matagan is a nice young man," Ayla said, "and the fur-lined parka with the hood that his mother insisted on giving to me is beautiful, and roomy enough that I will be able to wear it this winter. She asked me to visit them after we return this autumn. Wasn't the home of the Fifth Cave the place we passed by on our way here?"

"Yes, it's upstream on a small tributary of The River. Maybe we'll stop on our way back. By the way, I'm going hunting with Joharran and several others in a few days. We may be gone a while," Jondalar said, trying to make it sound like a normal activity.

"I don't suppose I could go?" Ayla said wistfully.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to give up hunting for a while. You know, and Matagan's accident has made it plain, that hunting can be dangerous, especially if you are not quite as fast on your feet as you used to be. And after the baby is born, you'll be busy nursing and caring for it," Jondalar said.

"I hunted after Durc was born. One of the other women nursed him for me if I didn't get back in time to feed him."

"But you weren't gone for several days at a time."

"No, I just hunted small animals with my sling," she admitted.

"Well, you may be able to do that again, but you shouldn't go out with hunting parties for days at a time. Anyway, I'm your mate now. It's my job to take care of you and your children. That's what I promised when we mated. If a man can't provide for his mate and her children, what use is he? What's a man's purpose if women have children and provide for them, too?" Jondalar said.

Ayla had never heard Jondalar talk that way before. Did all men feel that way? she wondered. Did men need to find a purpose for their existence because they could not have children? She tried to imagine how it would feel if it were the other way around, if she could never have a baby and believed her only contribution was to help provide for them. She turned to face him.

"This baby would not be inside me if it were not for you, Jondalar," she said, putting her hands on the bulge below her breasts. "This baby is as much yours as mine. It's just growing inside me for a while. Without your essence, it would not have gotten started."

"You don't know that for sure," he said. "You may think so, but no one else does, not even Zelandoni."

The two stood facing each other in the middle of the open field, not antagonistic, but with conflicting beliefs. Jondalar noticed strands of sun-bleached blond hair had escaped from the restraining leather band and were whipping across her face in the wind. She was barefoot, and her tanned arms and breasts were exposed above the simple leather garment wrapped around her expanding middle and hanging loosely down to her knees to protect her body from the scratchy dry grasses they were gathering. Her eyes were determined, resolute, almost angrily defiant, but she looked so vulnerable. His look softened.

"It doesn't matter anyway. I love you, Ayla. I just want to take care of you and your baby," he said. He reached to enfold her in his arms.

"Our baby, Jondalar. Our baby," she said, putting her arms around him and clinging to his bare chest. He felt her bare breasts and the bulge of her stomach, and was glad for both.

"All right, Ayla. Our baby," he said. He wanted to believe it.

There was a noticeable nip in the air as they stepped out of the lodge. The leaves on the trees in the small woods were turning shades of yellow and an occasional red, and the grasses and herbs that were not trampled into dust around the encampment were brown and shriveled. Every bit of fallen wood or dry brush in the area had long since been burned, and the woods had been thinned out considerably.

Jondalar picked up the packs that had been lying on the ground near the opening of the lodge. "The horses with the pole drags are going to be a big help carrying back the winter food stores. It's been a good season."

Wolf raced up to them, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. One ear drooped slightly and had a ragged edge, giving him a raffish air. "I think he knows we're leaving," Ayla said. "I'm so glad he came back and stayed with us, even if he was hurt. I would have missed him. I'm looking forward to returning to the Ninth Cave, but I'll always remember this Summer Meeting. This is the Meeting we were mated."

"I enjoyed this Summer Meeting, too, I haven't been to one in so long, but now that we're leaving, I'm anxious to get back," Jondalar said, then smiled. He was thinking of the surprise that he knew was waiting for Ayla. She noticed a difference in his expression. His smile was more a delighted grin, and he projected a sense of expectation. She had a feeling there was something he wasn't telling her, but she had no idea what it could be.

"I'm glad the Lanzadonii came. It's a long way for them to travel, but Dalanar got the donier he wanted," he continued, "and Joplaya and Echozar are properly mated. The Lanzadonii are a small people yet, but it won't be long before there's a second Cave. They have a lot of young ones, and they've been lucky. Most have survived."

"I'm pleased that Joplaya is pregnant," Ayla said. "She was Blessed before they were joined, but I don't think many people heard that during the Matrimonial."

"Some people had other things on their minds, but I'm glad for them. Joplaya seems different, somehow, sadder. Maybe all she needs is a baby," Jondalar said.

"We'd better hurry. Joharran said he wanted to leave early," Ayla said.

She didn't want to talk about Joplaya's sadness because she knew the reason, and she didn't want to mention the long conversation she'd had with Jerika. Joplaya's mother had wanted some specific information from her. She told Ayla about her own difficulty in giving birth and wanted to know everything Ayla could tell her that might make a potentially difficult delivery easier. She also wanted to know about her medicine that could prevent conception, and ways to bring on a miscarriage if that didn't work. She feared for the life of her only child and would have been satisfied with no grandchildren rather than lose her daughter. But since she was already pregnant, and determined to have this baby, if she survived the delivery, Jerika was determined to make sure there would be no more pregnancies.

The Eleventh Cave had brought all their rafts upriver, and Joharran arranged to send some things back that way, but River Place only had so many rafts and all the Caves wanted to use them. The Ninth Cave loaded as many rawhide packages of dried meat and baskets of gathered foods on the travoises and the backs of Whinney and Racer as they could. The lodges that had been their homes for the summer were taken down, and the parts that could be salvaged and reused were also loaded on the horses. Each person also carried a full backpack, and some people, seeing the pole drags of the horses, fashioned a similar device for themselves to drag. Ayla thought about making one for Wolf, but she hadn't trained him to pull one yet. Perhaps next year he would have a load, too.

Joharran was all over the campsite, urging people to hurry, offering suggestions, making sure everything was in readiness. When he was sure the Ninth Cave was packed and ready to go, he started out ahead of the rest, his spear held loosely, but it was more symbolic than necessary. They were traveling in the daytime with a large group, and as long as they stayed together, no four-legged hunter would come near them. Nonetheless, at the first sign of danger, Joharran could have his spear mounted in his spear-thrower and ready to fling in an instant. He had practiced with the weapon over the summer, and had gained some skill with it. There were half a dozen others designated to guard the flanks, with Solaban and Rushemar bringing up the rear. The job of guarding would be rotated among several others, who were, at the moment, helping to carry a rich summer bounty back to the Ninth Cave.

Ayla looked out over the camp of the Summer Meeting one last time before they left. Piles of bones and trash littered the small valley. Several of the Caves had already departed, leaving large empty spaces between the campsites of those that remained, with poles and log frames left standing, and black circles and rectangles that showed where sustaining fires had been. A tent that was too worn for further use had been left behind, and a torn edge of leather no longer attached to a pole was flapping in the wind, which was also blowing an old basket around. As she watched, another Cave's lodges were being torn down. The Summer Meeting camp had a desolate, abandoned look to it.

But the litter was of the earth and would soon decompose. By the next spring there would be little evidence remaining of the Caves that had summered here. The earth would heal from the invasion.

The trip back was arduous. The heavily loaded people trudged under their burdens and dropped into their beds exhausted at night.

Joharran set a brisk pace in the beginning, but slowed as they progressed to enable the weakest to keep up. But they all looked forward to going home and their spirits were high. The loads they carried represented survival during the harsh winter months ahead.

As they neared the abri of the Ninth Cave, the familiar landscape encouraged the people to hurry. They were eager to reach the shelter under the overhanging ledge of stone, and they pushed themselves so they would not have to spend another night outside. The first evening stars were winking on in the sky as the familiar cliff with the Falling Stone came into view. They crossed Wood River on the stepping-stones with some difficulty under the failing light with their cumbersome loads, then followed the path up to the front porch of their abri. When they finally reached the stone porch in front of the opening under the protecting shelf, it was nearly dark.

It was Joharran's job to make the first fire and light a torch to carry into the abri, and he was glad for the firestones. The fire was quickly started and the torch lit, then people waited impatiently while Zelandoni removed the small female figurine that had been set in front of their shelter to protect it. After they thanked the Great Mother for watching over their home in their absence, several more torches were lit. The Cave formed a procession behind the large woman as she put the donii back in its place behind the large hearth at the rear of the protected space, then everyone scattered to their own dwellings to gratefully drop off their loads.

The inevitable first chore was to inspect any damage that might have been wrought by marauding creatures while they were gone. There were a few animal droppings, some hearthstones had been disturbed, a basket or two had been knocked over, but the damage was minimal. Fires were lighted in the hearths inside, and provisions and stores were brought in. Sleeping furs were spread out on familiar sleeping benches. The Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii had returned home.

Ayla started toward Marthona's home, but Jondalar led her off in a different direction. Wolf followed. Holding a torch in one hand and her hand with the other, he guided her farther back into the abri toward another structure, one she didn't remember being there. Jondalar stopped in front of it, pulled aside the flap that covered the entrance, and motioned to her to go inside. "You sleep in your own dwelling tonight, Ayla," he said.

"My own dwelling?" she said, so overwhelmed that she could hardly speak. As she entered the dark interior, the wolf slipped in with her. Jondalar followed, holding up a torch so she could see.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Ayla looked around. The inside was essentially bare, but there were shelves against one wall adjacent to the entrance and a platform built up at one end for sleeping furs. The floor was paved with smooth, flat sections of limestone from the nearby cliff, with hardened river clay between the spaces. A hearth was set up, and the niche directly opposite the entrance held a small fat female figure.

"My own home." She twirled around in the middle of the empty structure, her eyes sparkling. "A dwelling just for the two of us?" The wolf sat on his haunches and looked at her. This was a new place, but wherever Ayla was was home to him.

Jondalar's face was split by a ridiculous grin. "Or maybe the three of us," he said, patting her belly. "This place is still sort of empty."

"I love it. I just love it. It's beautiful, Jondalar."

He was so pleased by her delight, he felt tears welling up and had to do something to fend them off. He handed her the torch he still held. "Then you have to light the lamp, Ayla. It means you accept it. I have some rendered fat here. I carried it all the way from our last camp."

He reached under his tunic and withdrew a small pouch, warmed by his body heat, made of the cured bladder of a deer, encased in a slightly larger pouch made of its hide, with the fur side in. The bladder was nearly waterproof, although it did seep slightly over time, especially when warm. The second pouch was to absorb the minimal seepage, the fur adding an extra layer to soak up any grease that might permeate. The top of the bladder had been tied with sinew from a leg tendon around a vertebra from the spine of the deer, shaved of extraneous bone to a circular shape. The natural hole, which had once held a spinal cord, served as a pouring hole. It was stoppered by a leather thong tied several times into a knot that fit the hole.

Jondalar pulled the end of the thong to release the knot and poured some of the liquefied fat into a new stone lamp. He dipped one end of an absorbent wick made of lichen taken from the branches of trees at the Summer Meeting camp and placed it into the oil, then held a torch to it. It flared up instantly. When the fat was fully melted and hot, he took out a leaf-wrapped package of wicks that came from a porous fungus that had been cut into strips and dried. He liked using fungus wicks, with their capacity to burn longer and warmer illumination. He laid the wick from the middle of the shallow bowl to the rim and extended it a bit farther over the edge. Then he added a second and a third wick to the same lamp, so that one lamp could give the light of three.

Then he filled a second lamp and gave the torch to Ayla. She held the fire to the wick. It caught, sputtered, then settled down into a glowing light. He carried the lamp to the niche that held the donii and placed it front of the female figure. Ayla followed him. When he turned around, she looked up at the tall man.

"This dwelling is now yours, Ayla. If you allow me to light my hearth within it," Jondalar said, "any children born here will be born to my hearth. Will you allow it?"

"Yes. Of course," she said.

He took the torch from her and strode to the fireplace area, which was outlined with a circle of stones. Within it, wood had been set up, ready to light. He held the torch to the kindling and watched until the small wood set the larger pieces aflame. He did not want to take any chances that the fire would go out before it was well established. When he looked up, Ayla was looking at him with love in her eyes. He stood up and took her in his arms.

"Jondalar, I'm so happy," she said, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because I'm so happy," she said, clinging to him. "I never dreamed I would ever be so happy. I am going to live in this beautiful home, and the Zelandonii are my people, and I'm going to have a baby, and I'm mated to you. Mostly because I'm mated to you. I love you, Jondalar. I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Ayla. That's why I built this dwelling for you," he said, bending his head to reach her lips, which were straining to reach his. He tasted the salt from her tears.

"But, when did you do it?" she asked when they finally parted. "How? We were at the Meeting all summer."

"Do you remember that hunting trip I went on with Joharran and the rest? It wasn't only a hunting trip. We came back here and built this," Jondalar said.

"You came all the way back here to build a dwelling? Why didn't you tell me?" she said.

"I wanted to surprise you. You are not the only one who can plan surprises," Jondalar said, still pleased at her happily shocked response.

"It's the best surprise I ever had," she said, tears threatening to well up again.

"You know, Ayla," he said, suddenly looking serious, "if you ever throw out the stones of my hearth, I will have to return to my mother's dwelling, or go someplace else. It would mean that you want to sever the knot of our joining."

"How can you even say that, Jondalar? I would never want to do that!" she said, looking appalled.

"If you had been born a Zelandonii, I wouldn't have to say it. You would know. I just want to make sure you understand. This dwelling is yours, and your children's, Ayla. Only the hearth is mine," Jondalar explained.

"But you were the one who made it. How can it be mine?"

"If I want your children to be born to my hearth, it is my responsibility to provide a place for you and your children to live. A place that will be yours no matter what happens," he said.

"You mean you were required to make a dwelling for me?" she asked.

"Not exactly. I am required to make sure you have a place to live, but I wanted to give you your own home. We could have stayed with my mother. It's not unusual when young men are first mated. Or if you were Zelandonii, we could have arranged to stay with your mother, or some other of your kin, until I could provide you with a place of your own. In that case, I would be obligated to your kin, of course."

"I didn't understand that you would be taking on so much obligation for me when we joined," Ayla said.

"It's not just for a woman, it's for the children. They can't take care of themselves, they must be provided for. Some people live with kin all their lives, often with a woman's mother. When the mother dies, her home belongs to her children, but if one has been living with her, that one has first claim. If a mother's home becomes her daughter's, her mate doesn't have to provide one, but he may be obligated to his mate's siblings. If the home becomes a son's, he may owe his own siblings."

"I think I still have a lot to learn about the Zelandonii," Ayla said, frowning at the thought.

"And I still have a lot to learn about you, Ayla," he said, reaching for her again. She was more than willing. He could feel himself wanting her as they kissed and could sense her responding to him.

"Wait here," he said.

He went out and returned with their sleeping furs. He untied the rolls and spread them out on the platform. Wolf watched from the middle of the empty main room, then lifted his head and howled.

"I think he's feeling unsettled. He wants to know where he is supposed to sleep," Ayla said.

"I think I'd better go to my mother's dwelling and get his bedding. Don't go away," Jondalar said, smiling at her. He returned quickly and set Ayla's old clothing that was Wolf's bedding and his feeding bowl by the entrance. The wolf sniffed at them, then circled around and curled up on them.

Jondalar went to the woman who was still waiting by the fire, picked her up and carried her to the sleeping platform, and put her down on top of the furs. He began to slowly undress her, and she started to untie a cord to help.

"No. I want to do it, Ayla. It would please me," he said.

She put her hand down. He continued undressing her slowly, tenderly, then removed his own clothing and crawled in beside her. And gently, with exquisite tenderness, he made love to her half the night.

The Cave quickly settled down into their usual routine. It was a glorious autumn. The grasses of the fields rippled in golden waves in the brisk wind, and trees near The River blazed with brilliant shades of yellows and reds. Bushes were heavy with ripe berries, apples were rosy but tart, waiting for the first frost to turn sweet, nuts were dropping from the trees. While the weather held, the days were filled with gathering the season's bounty of fruits, nuts, berries, roots, and herbs. After the temperatures at night dropped below freezing, hunting parties went out regularly to stock up on a supply of fresh meat to supplement the dried meat from the summer hunting.

During the warm days shortly after their return, storage pits were checked and new ones dug into the summer-softened soil so that they would be below the usual permafrost level, and lined with stones. The meat of fresh kills was cut up and left out overnight high on platforms, and away from prowling animals, to freeze. In the mornings it was put into the deep pits, which kept it from thawing out as the day warmed. Several such cold cellars were located near the Ninth Cave. Shallower root cellars, which kept fruit and vegetables cold but not frozen during the early part of the season, were dug as well. Later, as the freezing glacial winter progressed and the ground froze solid, the produce would be moved to the back of the abri.

Salmon, making their way upstream, were netted and smoke-dried or frozen, as well as other varieties of fish caught by a method new to Ayla: the fish traps of the Fourteenth Cave. She had visited Little Valley while the fish were running, and Brameval had explained how the woven traps, which were weighted down, allowed fish to easily swim in them, but not back out. He had always been very friendly and pleasant to her. She was pleased to see Tishona and Marsheval, too. Though she hadn't had the chance to get to know them as well during the Matrimonial, they still felt the tie of having mated at the same time.

Some people were also fishing with a gorge. Brameval gave her one of the small pieces of bone, sharpened at both ends and attached in the middle to a thin but strong cord, and told her to catch herself a meal. Tishona and Marsheval joined her, partly to see if she needed help, but also for her company. Jondalar had shown her how to use a gorge. She had both worms and small pieces of fish as bait, and started by threading a worm onto the bone. They were standing on the bank of The River, and she cast her line in. When she felt a pull, indicating that a fish had swallowed the baited gorge, she gave the line a sharp tug, hoping that the sharpened bone would lodge horizontally across its gullet, with both ends piercing the sides. She smiled when she pulled a fish from the water.

When she stopped at the Eleventh Cave on the way back, Kareja happened to be gone, but she saw the donier of the Eleventh with Marolan, his tall, handsome friend, and stopped to talk to them. She had seen them together at the Summer Meeting several times and understood he was more than a friend, more like a mate, though they didn't have a Matrimonial. But the official mating ceremony was primarily for the sake of potential children. Many people chose to live together without a mating ceremony besides those who were interested in those of the same gender, especially older couples who were past having children, and some women who had children without having a mate and later decided to live with a friend or two.

Ayla often accompanied Jondalar when he went out with a hunting party as they were starting out. But when the hunters of big game went farther afield, she stayed closer to the cave and used her sling or practiced with the throwing stick. Ptarmigan inhabited the plains across The River, as well as grouse. She knew she could have caught them with her sling, but she wanted to learn to use a throwing stick with equal skill. She also wanted to learn to make them. It was difficult to separate thinner pieces from logs, usually done with wedges, and then it took time to shape and smooth them. Even more difficult was learning to throw them with a special twist so that they spun horizontally through the air. She had once seen a Mamutoi woman use one of similar design. She could throw it at a flock of low-flying birds and often knock down three or four of them. Ayla always did enjoy hunting with weapons that took skill.

It made her feel less left out to have a new hunting weapon to practice with, and she was getting proficient with the throwing stick. She seldom came home without a bird or two. She always took her sling with her, too, and often had a hare or a hamster to add to the pot. It also gave her a certain economic independence. Though she was already pleased with the way her home was beginning to look – many of the gifts she had received when she and Jondalar were joined found good use – she was learning to trade and often exchanged bird feathers, and sometimes the meat, for things she wanted to furnish her new home with. Even the hollow bird bones could be cut into beads or small musical instruments, flutes with high-pitched tones. Bird bones could also be used as parts of various tools or implements.

But many of the hides of rabbits and hares that she hunted with her sling, or the thin, soft skins of birds, she saved for herself. She planned to use the soft furs and skins to make clothes for the baby when the weather got cold and she was bound to the shelter.

On a cool, crisp day late in the season, Ayla was rearranging her things, making a space for the baby and baby things. She picked up the boy's winter underwear that Marona had given to her and held the tunic up to herself. She had long since outgrown it, though she still planned to wear it later. It was a comfortable outfit. Perhaps I ought to make another one for myself with a little roomier top, she thought. She had some extra deerskins. She folded it and put it away.

She had promised to visit Lanoga that afternoon and decided to get some food to take with her. She had developed a real affection for the girl and the baby, and visited them often, even though it meant seeing and talking with Laramar and Tremeda more than she wanted. She also got to know the other children somewhat, especially Bologan, though it was a rather stilted acquaintance.

She saw Bologan when she arrived at Tremeda's dwelling. He had started learning how to make barma from the man of his hearth. Ayla had mixed feelings about it. It was right for a man to teach the children of his hearth, but the men who were always around drinking Laramar's barma were not those she thought Bologan ought to associate with, though it certainly wasn't for her to say.

"Greetings, Bologan," she said. "Is Lanoga here?"

Though she had greeted him several times since their return to the Ninth Cave, he still seemed surprised when she did, and always seemed at a loss for words.

"Greetings, Ayla. She's inside," he said, then turned to go.

Probably because she had been putting away her clothes, Ayla suddenly remembered a promise she had made to him. "Did you have any luck this summer?" she asked.

"Luck? What do you mean 'luck'?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Several young men your age made their first major kill at the Summer Meeting. I wondered if you had any luck hunting," she said.

"Some. I killed two aurochs in the first hunt," he said.

"Do you still have the hides?"

"I traded one for barma makings. Why?"

"I promised I'd make you some winter underclothing, if you would help me," Ayla said. "I wonder if you would like to use your aurochs hide, though I think deer hides would be better. Maybe you could trade it."

"I was going to trade it, for more barma makings. I thought you forgot about that," Bologan said. "You said it a long time ago, when you first came here."

"It was a long time ago, but I was thinking about some other things I wanted to make, and thought I'd make your outfit at the same time," she said. "I have some extra deer hides, but you'd have to come over and let me take measurements."

He looked at her for some time with a strange, almost speculative expression. "You have been helping Lorala a lot. Lanoga, too. Why?"

She thought for a moment. "At first, it was just that Lorala was a baby and she needed help. People want to help babies, that's why the women started nursing her, once they found out her mother had no more milk. But I've grown fond of her, and Lanoga, too."

Bologan was quiet for a while, then he looked at her. "All right," he said. "If you really want to make something, I have a deer hide, too."

Jondalar was on an extended hunting trip, along with Joharran, Solaban, Rushemar, and Jacsoman, who had recently moved to the Ninth Cave from the Seventh, along with his new mate, Dynoda. They were on a mission to find reindeer, not so much to hunt them just yet, but to find out where they were and when they might be migrating closer to their region, so they could arrange a major drive. Ayla was feeling restless. She had started out with the hunters early, then turned back. Wolf had scared up a couple of ptarmigan, not quite fully white yet, but getting close, and she dispatched them quickly.

Willamar was also gone, on what would likely be his last trading trip of the season. He had gone west, specifically to get salt from the people who lived near the Great Waters of the West. Ayla invited Marthona, Folara, and Zelandoni to share a meal and help her eat the ptarmigan. She told them she would cook it the way she used to for Creb when she lived with the Clan. She had dug a small pit in Wood River Valley at the foot of the sloping path to the ledge, lined it with rocks, and built up a good fire inside it. While it was burning down, she plucked the birds, including their snowshoe-feathered feet, then gathered an armload of hay to wrap them in.

If she had found eggs, she would have stuffed them in the cavities of the birds, but it was not the season for eggs. Birds didn't try to raise chicks when they were heading into winter. Instead she picked a few handfuls of flavorful herbs, and Marthona had offered her some of the last of her salt, for which Ayla was grateful. The ptarmigan were cooking, along with some ground nuts, in the pit oven, and she had spent time grooming the horses, and now she was looking for something else to do while she waited for the birds to cook.

She decided to stop off and see if she could do anything for Zelandoni. The donier said she was in need of some ground red ochre, and Ayla said she would be happy to get some for her. She went back down to Wood River Valley, whistled for Wolf, whom she had left exploring interesting new mounds and holes, and walked toward The River. She dug up the red-colored iron ore and found a nice river-rounded stone that she could use as a pestle to grind the ochre with. Then she whistled for Wolf again as she headed up the slope, not really paying much attention to who else was on the path.

It came as a shock when she almost bumped into Brukeval. He had actively avoided her since the meeting in the zelandonia lodge about Echozar and the Clan, though he constantly watched her from a distance. He observed her advancing pregnancy with pleasure, knowing she would soon be a mother, and actively imagined that the child she carried was of his spirit. Any man could fancy that any pregnant woman was carrying the child of his spirit, and most of them occasionally wondered if a particular woman might be, but Brukeval's dream was an obsession. He would sometimes lie awake at night envisioning an entire life with Ayla, most of it mimicking what he surreptitiously saw her doing with Jondalar, but when confronted by her on the path, he didn't know what to say. There was no way to avoid her now.

"Brukeval," she said, attempting to smile. "I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Well, here we are," he said.

She hurried ahead. "I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean to insult you at that meeting. Jondalar told me that you were teased before about flatheads, until you made people stop. I admire the fact that you stood up for yourself and made people stop calling you that. You are not a flathead… one of the Clan. No one should ever have called you that. You couldn't begin to live with them. You are one of the Others just like all the Zelandonii. That's how they would see you."

His expression seemed to soften. "I'm glad you recognize that," he said.

"But you must realize, to me, they are people," she hurried on. "They couldn't be animals. I have never thought of them any other way. They found me alone and injured, and they took me in and cared for me, raised me. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for them. I find them to be admirable people. I didn't realize you would consider it an insult to suggest that your grandmother may have lived with them when she was lost and gone for so long, that they might have taken care of her, too."

"Well, I guess you couldn't know," he said, smiling.

She smiled back, feeling relieved, and tried to make her explanation more clear. "It's just that you remind me of some people that I care about. That's why I was drawn to you from the beginning.

There was a little boy I knew, who I loved, and you remind me of him…"

"Wait! Are you still saying that you think they are a part of me? I thought you said that I was not a flathead," Brukeval said.

"You aren't. Not even Echozar is. Just because his mother was Clan doesn't mean that he is. He wasn't raised by them, and you weren't, either…"

"But you still think my mother was an abomination. I told you, she was not! Neither my mother nor my grandmother had anything to do with them. None of those dirty animals had anything to do with me, do you hear me?" He was shouting and his face had turned an angry red. "I am not a flathead! Just because you were raised by those animals, don't think you can drag me down."

Wolf was growling at the excited man, ready to spring to Ayla's defense. The man looked as if he might want to hurt her. "Wolf! No!" she commanded. She had done it again. Why couldn't she have stopped when he was smiling? But he didn't have to call her Clan "dirty animals," because they weren't.

"I suppose you think that wolf is human, too," Brukeval sneered. "You don't even know the difference between people and animals. It's unnatural for a wolf to act the way he does around people." He was unaware just how close he was to Wolf's fangs with his shouting, but it probably wouldn't have mattered. Brukeval was beside himself. "Let me tell you something, if it hadn't been for those animals attacking my grandmother, she would not have been so frightened that she gave birth to a weak woman, and my mother would have lived to take care of me, love me. Those filthy flatheads killed my grandmother and my mother, too. As far as I'm concerned, they are no use to anyone. They should all be dead, like my mother. Don't you dare tell me they have anything to do with me. If it were up to me, I'd kill them all myself."

He was advancing on Ayla as he screamed, backing her down the path. She held Wolf by the fur on his neck to keep him from attacking the raging man. Finally he brushed past her, knocking her aside, and stormed down. He had never been so angry. Not only because she imputed flatheads to his lineage, but because in his rage, he had blurted out his innermost feelings. He had wanted more than anything else to have had a mother to run to when the others teased him. But the woman who inherited Brukeval along with his mother's possessions had no love for the baby she reluctantly nursed. He was a burden on her, and she considered him repulsive. She had several children of her own, including Marona, making it even easier to ignore him. But she wasn't much of a mother even to her own, and Marona had learned her callous, unfeeling ways from her mother.

Ayla was shaking. Now she had really done it. She tried to collect herself as she stumbled her way up the path and into Zelandoni's dwelling. The woman looked up as Ayla came through the entrance and immediately recognized that something was gravely wrong.

"Ayla, what is it? You look as if you've just seen an evil spirit," she said.

"Oh, Zelandoni, I think I have. I just saw Brukeval," she cried. "I tried to tell him I didn't mean to insult him at that meeting, but I always seem to say the wrong thing to him."

"Sit down, tell me about it," Zelandoni said.

She explained what had happened during her encounter on the path. Zelandoni was quiet after Ayla told her, then she fixed the young woman a cup of tea. Ayla settled down; talking about it had helped.

"I've watched Brukeval for a long time," Zelandoni said after a while. "There's a fury inside him. He wants to strike out at the world that has given him so much hurt. He has decided to lay the blame on the flatheads, the Clan. He sees them as the root of his pain. He hates everything about them, and anyone associated with them. The worst thing you could have done was to imply that he himself might be related in some way to them. It's unfortunate, Ayla, but I fear you have made an enemy. It can't be helped, now."

"I know it. I could tell. Why do people hate them so much? What's so terrible about them?" Ayla asked.

The woman looked at her, considering, then made up her mind. "When I said at that meeting that I had gone into deep meditation to recall all the Histories and Elder Legends, that was entirely true. I used every prompt and memory aid I know to bring out everything I ever memorized. It is probably something that should be done more often, it's enlightening. I think the problem, Ayla, is that we moved into their lands. In the beginning, it wasn't so bad. There was a lot of room, many empty shelters. It wasn't hard to share the land with them. They tended to keep to themselves, and we avoided them. We didn't call them animals then, just flatheads. The term was more descriptive than derogatory," she said.

"But as time went on, and more children were born, we needed more space. Some people began taking their shelters, sometimes fighting with them, sometimes killing them, sometimes being killed. By then, we had lived here for a long time, and this was our home, too. The flatheads may have been here first, but we needed places to live, so we took theirs.

"When people treat others badly, they have to rationalize it so they can go on living with themselves. We give ourselves excuses. The excuse we used was that the Great Mother gave us the earth for our home, 'the water, the land, and all Her creation.' That means all Her plants and animals are ours to use. Then we convinced ourselves that flatheads were animals, and if they were animals, we could take their shelters for ourselves," Zelandoni said.

"But they are not animals, they are people," Ayla said.

"Yes. You are right, but we conveniently forgot that. She also said the Earth is our 'home to use, but not to abuse.' The flatheads are also Earth's Children. That was the other thing I learned from my meditation. If She mixes their spirits with ours, they must be people, too. But I don't think it would have made much difference if we thought they were people or not. I think we would have done it anyway. Doni has made it easier for other living creatures that kill, so they can live. I don't think your wolf there worries about the rabbits he kills to survive, or the deer that a pack of them may hunt down. He was born to kill them. Without them he would not live, and Doni has given every living thing the desire to continue living," the donier said.

"But humans have been given the ability to think. That is what makes us learn and grow. It is also what gives us the knowledge that cooperation and understanding are necessary for our own survival, and that has led to empathy and compassion, but there's another side to those kind of feelings. The empathy and compassion we feel for our own kind is sometimes extended to the rest of the living things on the earth. If we allowed it to keep us from killing a deer, or other animals, we would not live long. The desire to live is the stronger feeling, so we learn to be compassionate selectively. We find ways to close our minds. We limit our sense of empathy." Ayla was listening closely, fascinated.

"The problem is knowing how much to stop those feelings without perverting them. In my opinion, I think that is really at the bottom of Joharran's concern over the knowledge you have brought us, Ayla. As long as most people believed your Clan were only animals, we could kill them without thinking about it. It's harder to kill people. The empathy is so much stronger that the mind must invent new reasons. But, if we can somehow link it to our own survival, the mind will make the devious twists and turns necessary to rationalize it. We're very good at that. But it changes people. They learn to hate. Your wolf doesn't need to hate what he kills. It would be easier if we could kill without compunction, like your wolf does, but then, we wouldn't be human."

Ayla thought for a time about what Zelandoni said. "Now I know why you are First Among Those Who Serve The Mother. It is hard to kill. I know how hard it is. I remember the first animal I killed with my sling. It was a porcupine. I felt so bad, I didn't hunt again for a long time, and then I had to find a reason. I decided to kill only carnivores because they sometimes stole the meat from the hunters, and because they killed the same animals the Clan needed for food."

"That is truly the loss of innocence, Ayla, when we understand what we must do in order to live. That is why a young hunter's kill is so important. It is not only changes in the physical body that make a person an adult. The first hunt is the most difficult, and it is more than overcoming fear. A man and a woman must show that they can survive, that they can do what must be done to live. That is also the reason we have certain ceremonies to honor the spirits of the animals we kill. It is one way we show honor to Doni. We need to remember and appreciate that their life is given so that we may live. If we don't, humans can become too hardened, and that can turn against us.

"We must always show appreciation for what we take, we need to honor the spirits of the trees and grass and other foods that grow, too. We must treat all Her Gifts with respect. She can become angered if we ignore Her, and She can take back the life She has given us. If we ever forget our Great Earth Mother, She will no long provide for us, and if the Great Mother should decide to turn Her back on Her children, we will no longer have a home."

"Zelandoni, you remind me of Creb in many ways. He was kind and I loved him, but more than that, he understood people. I could always go to him. I hope that doesn't insult you. It's not meant to," Ayla said.

Zelandoni smiled. "No, of course I'm not insulted. I would like to have known him. And, Ayla, I hope you know, you can always come to me."

Ayla thought about her conversation with the First as she prepared to grind the red ore. But when she began the hard work of crushing the lumps of iron ore with the roundish rock against a flat, saucer-shaped stone, she tried to bury herself in the job to forget about the incident with Brukeval. The exertion did help to wear off tension, but the repetitive physical activity left her mind free to think, and Zelandoni had given her much to think about. She is right, Ayla thought. I think I have made an enemy of Brukeval. But… what can I do about it now? It's done. I don't think there was ever anything I could have done about it. He will think what he wants to think, no matter what I do or say.

It didn't occur to Ayla to lie and tell him that she didn't really think he had the look of the Clan. It wasn't true. She did think he was a mix. She began to wonder about his grandmother. The woman had been lost. When she was found again, she talked about being attacked by animals, but the animals she referred to must have been the ones she called flatheads. They must have found her, how else had she survived? But if they took her in, fed her, they would have expected her to work, like their own women. And any man of the Clan would then feel he could use her to relieve his needs. If she objected, someone may have forced her, the same way Broud had forced her. It was unthinkable for a woman of the Clan to resist. She would have been put in her place.

Ayla tried to imagine how a woman born a Zelandonii would respond in a situation like that. To the Zelandonii, it was the Gift of Pleasure from the Great Earth Mother, and it was never supposed to be forced. It was for sharing, but only when both the man and the woman wanted to share it. Without doubt, Brukeval's grandmother would have considered it an attack. How would it feel to be assaulted by someone you thought of as an animal? To be forced to share the Gift of Pleasure with such a creature? Would it be enough to affect the mind? Perhaps. Zelandonii women were not used to being ordered around. They were independent, as independent as the men.

Ayla stopped grinding the red stone. It had to be true that a man of the Clan had forced Brukeval's grandmother to couple with him, because she was pregnant, and that was what started the life growing inside her. And Brukeval's mother was born as a result. She was weak, Jondalar said. Rydag was weak, too. Perhaps there is something about the mixture that sometimes produces weakness in the offspring.

Her Durc was not weak, though, and Echozar was not weak. Neither were the S’Armunai. They were not weak, and many of them had the look of the Clan. Perhaps the weak ones died young, like Rydag, and only the strong ones lived. Could the S'Armunai be the result of such a mixture that began long ago? They were not so upset about mixtures, perhaps because they were more used to them. They seemed to be ordinary people, but they did have some Clan characteristics.

Was that why Attaroa's mate tried to dominate the women before she killed him? Was something about the way men of the Clan thought about women passed down, like some of their looks? Or was it just something he learned when he lived with them? But there was much that was good about the S'Armunai. Bodoa, the S'Armuna, had discovered how to take clay from a river and burn it into stone, and her acolyte was a fine carver. And Echozar, he is really very special. The Lanzadonii, just like the Zelandonii, think it was the mixing of spirits that gave him the look of both kinds of people, but his mother had been attacked by one of the Others.

Ayla began grinding stone again. How ironic, she thought. Brukeval hates the people who started the life that gave birth to him. It is men who start life growing inside a woman, I'm sure of it. It needs both. No wonder that Cave of S'Armunai were dying out when Attaroa was their leader. She couldn't force the spirits of women to blend to make life. The only women who had babies were those who sneaked in at night to visit their men.

Ayla thought about the life growing inside her. It would be Jondalar's baby as much as hers. She was sure it started when they got off the glacier. She hadn't made her special tea, and she was sure that was what kept life from starting inside her during their long Journey. The last time she had bled was shortly before she and Jondalar started across the glacier. She was glad she hadn't been sick much this time. Not like when she was pregnant with Durc. Children who were mixtures seemed to be harder on women, and on some of the babies. This time she felt wonderful, most of the time, but would she have a girl or a boy? And what would Whinney have?