The Clan Of The Cave Bear_ A Novel Part 7

"The cub is an animal that is brought into a cave, though."

Brun didn't have an answer, and Creb's rationale seemed to offer some guidelines, but why did the girl have to bring the rabbit into the cave in the first place? If it wasn't for her, the problem would never have come up. Brun felt the firm basis of his objections sinking under him like quicksand and he let the matter rest.

The day before the naming ceremony was cold but sunny. There had been a few flurries and Creb's bones had been aching of late. He was sure a storm was on the way. He wanted to enjoy the last few days of clear weather before the snows began in earnest and was walking along the path beside the stream. Ayla was with him, trying out her new footwear. Iza had made them by cutting out roughly circular pieces of aurochs hide, cured with the soft underlayer of hair left on and rubbed with extra fat for waterproofing. She pierced holes around the edge in the manner of a pouch and drew them up around the girl's ankles with the fur side in for warmth.

Ayla was pleased with them and lifted her feet high as she strutted beside the man. Her snow leopard fur covered her inner wrap, and a soft furry rabbit skin was draped over her head, fur side in, covering her ears and tied under her chin with the parts that had once served to cover the animal's legs. She scampered ahead, then ran back and walked beside the old man, slowing her exuberant pace to match his shuffle. They were comfortably silent for a while, each involved with their own thoughts.

I wonder what I should name Iza's baby, Creb was thinking. He loved his sibling and wanted to pick a name she would like. Not one from her mate's side, he thought. Thinking about the man who had been Iza's mate left a bad taste in his mouth. The cruel punishment her mate had inflicted on her made Creb angry, but his feelings went much further back. He remembered how the man had taunted him when he was a boy, calling him woman woman because he could never hunt. Creb guessed it was only his fear of Mog-ur's power that stopped the ridicule. I'm glad Iza had a girl, he thought. A boy would have given him too much honor. because he could never hunt. Creb guessed it was only his fear of Mog-ur's power that stopped the ridicule. I'm glad Iza had a girl, he thought. A boy would have given him too much honor.

With the man no longer a thorn in his side, Creb enjoyed the pleasures of his hearth more than he ever thought possible. Being the patriarch of his own little family, being responsible for them, providing for them, gave him a sense of manhood he had never experienced. He detected a different kind of respect from the other men and found he had a greater interest in their hunting now that a portion of each fell to him. Before, he was more concerned about the hunt ceremonies; now he had other mouths to feed.

I'm sure Iza's happier, too, he said to himself, thinking about the attention and affection she lavished on him, cooking for him, caring for him, antic.i.p.ating his needs. In all ways but one, she was his mate, the closest he had ever come to having one. Ayla was a constant joy. The inherent differences he discovered kept him interested; training her was a challenge like that which any natural teacher felt with a bright and willing but unusual pupil. The new baby intrigued him too. After the first few times, he got over his nervousness when Iza laid the infant in his lap, and watched her random hand movements and unfocused eyes in rapt attention, contemplating in wonder how something so tiny and undeveloped could grow into an adult woman.

She a.s.sures the continuation of Iza's line, he thought, and it is a line worthy of its rank. Their mother had been one of the most renowned medicine women of the Clan. People from other clans had sometimes come to her, bringing their sick if possible or taking back medicine. Iza, herself, was of equal stature, and her daughter had every possibility of attaining the same eminence. She deserved a name in keeping with her ancient and distinguished heritage.

Creb thought about Iza's line and remembered the woman who had been their mother's mother. She had always been kind and gentle with him, took care of him more than his mother after Brun was born. She, too, was famous for her healing skill, she had even healed that man born to the Others, just as Iza healed Ayla. It's a shame Iza never knew her, Creb mused. Then he stopped.

That's it! I'll give the baby her name, he thought, pleased with his inspiration.

With a name for the infant decided, he turned his attention to the mating ceremonies. He thought about the young man who was his devoted acolyte. Goov was quiet, serious, and Creb liked him. His Aurochs totem should be strong enough for Ovra's Beaver totem. Ovra worked hard and seldom needed to be reprimanded. She would make him a good mate. There's no reason that she shouldn't produce children for him; and Goov is a good hunter, he will provide for her well. When he becomes Mog-ur, his share will compensate when his duties don't allow him to hunt.

Will he ever be a powerful mog-ur? Creb wondered. He shook his head. Much as he liked his acolyte, he realized Goov would never have the skill Creb knew he himself possessed. The crippled body that prevented normal activities like hunting and mating had allowed him time to concentrate all his awesome mental endowment into developing his renowned power. That was why he was The Mog-ur. He was the one that directed the minds of all the other mog-urs at the Clan Gathering in the ceremony that was the holiest of the holy. Although he achieved a symbiosis of minds with the men of his clan, it did not compare with the blending of souls that happened with the trained minds of the other magicians. He thought about the next Clan Gathering, even though it was many years away. Clan Gatherings were held once every seven years, and the last one was the summer before the cave-in. If I live to the next, it will be my last, he suddenly realized.

Creb brought his attention back to the mating ceremony, which would mate Droog and Aga, too. Droog was an experienced hunter who had long since proven his skill. His skill at toolmaking was even greater. He was as quiet and serious as his dead mate's son, and he and Goov shared the same totem. They were much alike in other ways, and Creb was sure it was the spirit of Droog's totem that created Goov. It's a pity Droog's mate was called to the next world, he thought. There had been a fondness between the couple that would probably never develop with Aga. But both needed new mates, and Aga had already proven more prolific than Droog's first mate. It was a logical match.

Creb and Ayla were startled out of their thoughts by a rabbit that dashed across their path. It made the girl think about the rabbit in the cave and turned her mind back to what she had been thinking about all along, Iza's baby.

"Creb, how did the baby get inside Iza?" the girl asked.

"A woman swallows the spirit of a man's totem," Creb motioned casually, still lost in his own thoughts. "It fights with the spirit of her totem. If the man's overcomes the woman's, it leaves a part of itself to start a new life."

Ayla looked around her, wondering at the omnipresence of spirits. She could not see any, but if Creb said they were there, she believed it.

"Can any man's spirit get inside the woman?" she asked next.

"Yes, but only a stronger spirit can defeat hers. Often the totem of a woman's mate asks another spirit to help. Then the other spirit may be allowed to leave its essence. It's usually the spirit of a woman's mate that tries most; it's the closest one, but it often needs help. If a boy has the same totem as his mother's mate, it means he will be lucky," Creb explained carefully.

"Can only women have babies?" she asked, warming to her subject.

"Yes," he nodded.

"Does a woman have to be mated to have a baby?"

"No, sometimes she swallows a spirit before she is mated. But if she doesn't have a mate by the time the baby is born, the baby may be unlucky."

"Could I have a baby?" was her next hopeful query.

Creb thought about her powerful totem. Its vital principle was too strong. Even with the help of another spirit, it was not likely it would ever be defeated. But she will find that out soon enough, he thought.

"You're not old enough, yet," he evaded.

"When will I be old enough?"

"When you are a woman."

"When will I be a woman?"

Creb was beginning to think she would never run out of questions. "The first time your totem's spirit battles with another spirit, you will bleed. That is the sign that it was wounded. Some of the essence of the spirit that fought with it is left behind to make your body ready. Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s will grow, and there will be some other changes. After that, your totem's spirit will fight with other spirits regularly. When the time for blood to flow comes and there is none, it means the spirit you swallowed has defeated yours and a new life has started."

"But when when will I be a woman?" will I be a woman?"

"Perhaps when you have lived through the cycle of all the seasons eight or nine times. That's when most girls become women, some as early as seven years," he replied.

"But how long will that be?" she insisted.

The patient old magician heaved a sigh. "Come here, I'll see if I can explain," he said, picking up a stick and taking a flint knife from his pouch. He doubted that she would understand, but it might still her questions.

Numbers were a difficult abstraction for people of the Clan to comprehend. Most could not think beyond three: you, me, and another. It was not a matter of intelligence; for example, Brun knew immediately when one of the twenty-two members of his clan was missing. He had only to think of each individual, and he could do it quickly without being conscious of it. But to transfer that individual into a concept called "one" took effort few could master. "How can this person be one one and another time that person also be and another time that person also be one one-they are different people?" was the first question usually asked.

The Clan's inability to synthesize and abstract extended into other areas of their lives. They had a name for everything. They knew oak, willow, pine, but they had no generic concept for all of them; they had no word for tree. Every kind of soil, each kind of rock, even the different kinds of snow had a name. The Clan depended on their rich memory and their ability to add to that memory-they forgot almost nothing. Their language was replete with color and description but almost totally devoid of abstractions. The idea was foreign to their nature, their customs, the way they had developed. They depended on Mog-ur to keep track of those few things that needed to be counted: the time between Clan Gatherings, the ages of the members of the clan, the length of isolation after a mating ceremony, and the first seven days of a child's life. That he could do so was one of his most magical of powers.

Sitting down, Creb held the stick firmly wedged between his foot and a rock. "Iza says she thinks you are a little older than Vorn," Creb began. "Vorn has lived through his birth year, his walking year, his nursing year, and his weaning year," he explained, cutting a slash in the stick for each year as he said it. "I will make one more mark for you. This is how old you are now. If I take my hand and fit it in each mark, I will cover all of them with one hand, see?"

Ayla looked with concentration at the slash marks, holding out the fingers of her hand. Then she brightened. "I am as many years as this!" she said, showing him her hand with all the fingers extended. "But, how long before I can have a baby?" she asked, far more interested in reproduction than reckoning.

Creb was thunderstruck. How had the girl been able to grasp the idea so quickly? She hadn't even asked what slash marks had to do with fingers or what either had to do with years. It had taken many repet.i.tions before Goov had understood. Creb made three more slash marks and put three fingers over them. With only one hand, it had been especially difficult for him when he was learning. Ayla looked at her other hand and immediately held up three fingers, folding down her thumb and forefinger.

"When I am this many?" she asked, holding out her eight fingers again. Creb nodded affirmatively. Her next action caught him completely by surprise; it was a concept he had spent years mastering himself. She put down the first hand and held up only the three fingers.

"I will be old enough to have a baby in this many years," she gestured with a.s.surance, positive of her deduction. The old magician was rocked to his core. It was unthinkable that a child, a girl child at that, could reason her way to that conclusion so easily. He was almost too overwhelmed to remember to qualify the prediction.

"That is probably the earliest time. It might not be for this many, or possibly this many," he said, making two more slashes on the stick. "Or, perhaps even more. There is no way of knowing for sure."

Ayla frowned slightly, held up her index finger, then her thumb. "How do I know more years?" she asked.

Creb eyed her suspiciously. They were getting into a realm with which even he had difficulty. He was beginning to be sorry he had begun. Brun would not like it if he knew this girl was capable of such potent magic, magic reserved only for mog-urs. But his curiosity was piqued too. Could she comprehend such advanced knowledge?

"Take both your hands and cover all the marks," he instructed. After she had carefully fitted her fingers over all the slash marks, Creb made one more and put his little finger on it. "The next mark is covered by the small finger of my hand. After the first set, you must think of the first finger of the other person's hand, then the next finger of the other person's hand. Do you understand?" he motioned, watching her closely.

The child hardly blinked. She looked at her hands, then at his hand, then made the grimace that Creb had come to understand meant she was happy. She nodded her head vigorously to indicate that she did understand. Then she made a quantum leap, a jump almost beyond Creb's powers of comprehension.

"And, after that, another person's hands, and then another person's, isn't that right?" she asked.

The impact was too much. His mind reeled. With difficulty, Creb could count to twenty. Numbers beyond twenty blurred into some indistinct infinity called many many. He had, on a few rare occasions after deep meditation, caught a bare glimpse of the concept Ayla comprehended with such ease. His nod was almost an afterthought. He had a sudden understanding of the gulf between the mind of this girl and his own, and it shook him. He struggled to compose himself.

"Tell me, what is the name of this?" he asked to change the subject, holding up the stick he had been using to mark. Ayla stared at it, trying to remember.

"Willow," she said, "I think."

"That's right," Creb answered. He put his hand on her shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. "Ayla, it would be best if you refrain from mentioning anything about these to anyone," he said, touching the marks on the stick.

"Yes, Creb," she replied, sensing how important it was to him. She had learned to understand his actions and expressions more than anyone's, except Iza's.

"It's time to go back now," he said. He wanted to be alone to think.

"Do we have to?" she pleaded. "It's still nice out."

"Yes, we do," he said, pulling himself up with the help of his staff. "And it's not proper to question a man when he has made a decision, Ayla," he chided gently.

"Yes, Creb," she responded, bowing her head in acquiescence as she had learned. She walked silently beside him as they headed back to the cave, but soon her youthful exuberance took over, and she was running ahead again. She ran back holding out sticks and rocks, telling Creb the names, or asking him if she couldn't remember. He answered absentmindedly, finding it hard to pay attention for the tumult in his mind.

The first light of dawn scattered the enveloping darkness of the cave, and the fresh crispness in the air smelled of snow on its way. Iza was lying in her bed watching the familiar contours of the cave overhead take shape and definition in the gradually increasing light. This was the day her daughter would be named and accepted as a full member of the clan, the day she would be recognized as a living, viable human. She looked forward to the relaxation of her mandatory confinement, though her a.s.sociation with other members of the clan would still be limited to the women until she stopped bleeding.

At the onset of menarche, girls were required to spend the duration of their first period away from the clan. If it occurred during the winter, the young woman stayed alone in an area set aside at the rear of the cave but was still required to spend one menstrual period alone in spring. Living alone was both frightening and dangerous for a young, unarmed woman used to the protection and company of the whole clan. It was a trial that marked the pa.s.sage of girls into womanhood, similar to the male's trial of making his first kill, but no ceremony marked her return to the fold. And, though the young woman had fire for protection from carnivorous beasts, it was not totally unknown for a woman never to return-her remains usually found later by some hunting or foraging party. The girl's mother was allowed to visit her once a day to bring her food and rea.s.surance. But if the girl disappeared or was killed, her mother was forbidden to mention it until a minimum number of days had elapsed.

The battles waged by spirits within the bodies of women in the elemental struggle to produce life were deep mysteries to the men. While a woman bled, her totem's essence was powerful: it was winning, defeating some male essential principle, casting out his impregnating essence. If a woman looked at a man during that time, his spirit might be drawn into the losing battle. That was the reason female totems had to be less powerful than male totems, for even a weak totem gained strength from the life force that resided in females. Women drew on the life force; it was they who produced new life.

In the physical world, a man was bigger, stronger, far more powerful than a woman, but in the fearful world of unseen forces, the woman was endowed with potentially more power. Men believed that a woman's smaller, weaker physical form that allowed them to dominate her was a compensating balance and that no woman must ever be allowed to realize her full potential, or the balance would be upset. She was kept from full partic.i.p.ation in the spiritual life of the clan to keep her ignorant of the strength the life force gave her.

Young men were warned at their first manhood ceremony of the dire consequences that could result if a woman even glimpsed the esoteric rites of the men, and legends were told of the time when women were the ones who controlled the magic to intercede with the spirit world. The men had taken their magic from them but not their potential. Many young men looked at women in a new light once they became aware of these possibilities. They a.s.sumed their male responsibilities with great seriousness. A woman had to be protected, provided for, and totally dominated, or the delicate balance of physical and spiritual forces would be disrupted and the continuing existence of the life of the Clan destroyed.

Because her spiritual forces were so much more powerful during menses, a woman was isolated. She had to stay with the women, was not allowed to touch any food that might be consumed by a man, and spent her time doing unimportant tasks like collecting wood or curing hides that could only be worn by women. The men did not acknowledge her existence, completely ignored her, did not even reprimand her. If a man's eye chanced to fall on her, it was as though she were invisible; he looked through her.

It seemed a cruel penalty. The woman's curse resembled a death curse, the supreme punishment that was inflicted upon members of the Clan if they committed a serious crime. Only the leader could command a mog-ur to call down the evil spirits and lay a curse of death. A mog-ur could not refuse, though it was dangerous for the magician and the clan. Once cursed, the criminal was neither spoken to nor seen by any member of the clan. He was ignored, ostracized; he no longer existed, just as though he were dead. Mate and family grieved his death, no food was shared. A few left the clan and were never seen again. Most simply stopped eating, stopped drinking, and fulfilled the malediction they, too, believed.

Occasionally a death curse might be imposed for a limited period of time, but even that was often fatal since a criminal gave up living for the duration of the curse. But if he lived through a limited death curse, he was admitted back into the clan as a full member, even to his previous status. He had paid his debt to society and his crime was forgotten. Crimes were rare, though, and such punishment was rarely dealt. Though the woman's curse ostracized her partially and temporarily, most women welcomed the periodic respite from the unceasing demands and watchful eyes of the men.

Iza was looking forward to the greater contact she would have after the naming ceremony. She was bored with staying within the stone boundary of Creb's fire and looked with longing at the bright sunshine that streamed in through the mouth of the cave during the last few days before winter snows. She waited anxiously for Creb's signal that announced he was ready and the clan all gathered. Namings were often held before breakfast, shortly after the sun rose while the totems were still close by after protecting the clan during the night. When he beckoned, she hurried to join them and stood in front of Mog-ur, looking down at the ground while she uncovered her child. She held the babe up while the magician looked over her head making the gestures that called the spirits to attend the ceremony. Then, with a flourish, he began.

Dipping into the bowl Goov held, he drew a stripe from the point where the baby's brow ridges joined to the tip of her nose with the red-ochre paste.

"Uba, the girl's name is Uba," Mog-ur said. The naked infant, a.s.sailed by the cold wind that whipped past the sunny front porch of the cave, voiced a healthy howl which drowned out the approving murmur of the clan.

"Uba," Iza repeated, cuddling her shivering baby in her arms. It's a perfect name, she thought, wishing she had known the Uba her daughter was named for. The members of the clan filed past, each repeating the name to familiarize themselves and their totems with this newest addition. Iza was careful to keep her head down so she would not inadvertently look upon any of the men who came forward to acknowledge her daughter. Afterward, she wrapped the infant in warm rabbit skins and put her inside her wrap next to her skin. The baby's cries abruptly ceased as she began nursing. Iza stepped back to her place among the women to make way for the mating rituals.

For this ceremony, and this one alone, yellow ochre was used in the sacred ointment. Goov handed the bowl of yellow salve to Mog-ur who held it firmly between the stump of his arm and his waist. Goov could not serve as acolyte at his own mating. He took his position in front of the holy man and waited for Grod to bring forth the daughter of his mate. Uka looked on with mixed emotions-pride that her daughter had made a good match and sorrow to see her leave the hearth. Ovra, dressed in a new wrap, watched her feet as she walked forward closely behind Grod, but a radiance emanated from her demurely lowered face. It was obvious she was not unhappy with the choice that had been made for her. She sat down cross-legged in front of Goov, keeping her eyes down.

With silent formal gestures, Mog-ur again addressed the spirits, then he dipped his middle finger into the bowl of dun-yellow paste and drew the sign of Ovra's totem over the scar of Goov's totem mark, symbolizing the union of their spirits. Dipping again into the ointment, he painted Goov's mark over hers, following the outline of the scar and blurring her mark, showing his dominance.

"Spirit of Aurochs, Totem of Goov, your sign has overcome Spirit of Beaver, Totem of Ovra," Mog-ur gestured. "May Ursus allow that it will always be so. Goov, do you accept this woman?"

Goov answered by tapping Ovra on the shoulder and motioning to her to follow him into the cave to the place newly outlined with small boulders that was now Goov's hearth. Ovra jumped up and followed behind her new mate. She had no choice nor was she asked if she accepted him. The couple would remain isolated, confined to the hearth for fourteen days, during which time they would sleep separately. At the end of the isolation, a ceremony would be held in the small cave by the men to cement the union.

In the Clan, the mating of two people was entirely a spiritual affair, begun with a declaration to the whole clan but consummated by the secret ritual that included only the men. In this primitive society, s.e.x was as natural and unrestrained as sleeping or eating. Children learned, as they learned other skills and customs, by observing adults, and they played at intercourse as they mimicked other activities from a young age. Often a boy who reached p.u.b.erty, but had not yet made his first kill and existed in a limbo between child and adult, penetrated a girl child even before she reached her menarche. Hymens were pierced young, though males were a little fearful if blood was spilled and quickly ignored the girl if it happened.

Any man could take any woman whenever he wished to relieve himself, with the exception, through long tradition, of his female sibling. Usually, once a pair were mated, they remained more or less faithful out of courtesy for another man's property, but it was counted worse for a man to restrain himself than to take the nearest woman. And a woman was not averse to making subtle, coy gestures that were understood as suggestive if a man appealed to her, inviting his advances. To the Clan, a new life was formed by the ubiquitous essences of the totems, and any relationship between s.e.xual activity and childbirth was beyond conception.

A second ceremony was performed uniting Droog and Aga. Though the couple would be isolated from the clan, except for the other members of the hearth, the rest of those who now shared Droog's fire were free to come and go as they liked. After the second pair entered the cave, the women cl.u.s.tered around Iza and her baby.

"Iza, she is just perfect," Ebra raved. "I must admit I was a little worried when I learned you were pregnant after all this time."

"The spirits watched over me," Iza motioned. "A strong totem helps to make a healthy child, once it succ.u.mbs."

"I was afraid the girl's totem might have a bad effect. She looks so different, and her totem is so powerful, it might have deformed the baby," Aba commented.

"Ayla's lucky, she brought me luck," Iza quickly countered, looking to see if Ayla had noticed. The child was watching Oga holding the baby, and hovering close and beaming with pride as though Uba were her own. She hadn't been aware of Aba's comment, but Iza didn't like such thoughts aired openly. "Hasn't she brought us all luck?"

"But you weren't lucky enough to have a boy," Aba pressed her point.

"I wished for a girl, Aba," Iza said.

"Iza! How can you say such a thing!" The women were shocked. They seldom admitted to preferring a girl.

"I don't blame her," Uka jumped to Iza's defense. "You have a son, take care of him, nurse him, raise him, then as soon as he's grown, he's gone. If he isn't killed hunting, he's killed some other way. Half of them are killed while they're still young men. At least Ovra may live for a few more years yet."

They all felt sorry for the mother who had lost her son in the cave-in. They all knew how she had grieved. Ebra tactfully changed the subject.

"I wonder how winters will be at this new cave."

"Hunting has been good, and we've gathered so much and put it away, there's plenty of food stored. The hunters are going out today, probably for their last time. I hope there'll be room enough in the cache so we can freeze it all," Ika said. "And it looks like they're getting impatient. We'd better go make them something to eat."

The women reluctantly left Iza and her baby and went to prepare the morning meals. Ayla sat down beside Iza and the woman put her arm around the girl, holding the baby in the other. Iza was feeling good-glad to be outside on this brisk, cold, sunny, early winter day; glad her child was born, and healthy, and a girl; glad for the cave and that Creb had decided to provide for her; and glad for the thin, blonde, strange girl beside her. She looked at Uba and then Ayla. My daughters, the woman thought, and they are are both my daughters. Everyone knows Uba will be a medicine woman, but Ayla will be one, too. I'll make sure of that. Who knows, maybe someday she will be a great medicine woman. both my daughters. Everyone knows Uba will be a medicine woman, but Ayla will be one, too. I'll make sure of that. Who knows, maybe someday she will be a great medicine woman.

9*

"The Spirit of Light Dry Snow took the Spirit of Granular Snow as his mate and after a time she gave birth to a Mountain of Ice far to the north. The Sun Spirit hated the glittering child spreading across the land as he grew, keeping away his warmth so no gra.s.s could grow. The Sun decided to destroy Ice Mountain, but Storm Cloud Spirit, the sibling of Granular Snow, found out the Sun wanted to kill her child. In the summer when the Sun was most powerful, Storm Cloud Spirit fought with him to save Ice Mountain's life."

Ayla was sitting with Uba in her lap watching Dorv tell the familiar legend. She was captivated, though she knew the story by heart. It was her favorite, she never got tired of it. But the restless year-and-a-half-old toddler in her arms was far more interested in Ayla's long blonde hair and grabbed chubby handfuls of it. Ayla untangled her hair from Uba's clenched fists without taking her eyes off the old man who stood near the fire, retelling the tale in dramatic pantomime as the clan eagerly watched.

"On some days the Sun won the battle and beat down on the hard, cold ice, turning it to water, draining Ice Mountain's life away. But many days Storm Cloud won, covering the face of the Sun, keeping his heat from melting the Ice Mountain too much. Though Ice Mountain starved and shrunk in summer, in winter his mother took the nourishment her mate brought and nursed her son back to health. Every summer the Sun struggled to destroy Ice Mountain, but Storm Cloud kept the Sun from melting all that the mother had fed her child the winter before. At the beginning of each new winter, Ice Mountain was always a little bigger than he had been the winter before; he grew larger, spread farther, covered more land every year.

"And as he grew, a great cold went before him. The winds howled, the snow swirled, and Ice Mountain spread, creeping closer to the place where the People lived. The Clan shivered, huddling close to the fire while the snow fell on them."

The wind whistling through the bare-limbed trees outside the cave added sound effects to the story, sending a sympathetic shiver of excitement down Ayla's spine.

"The Clan didn't know what to do. 'Why are the spirits of our totems no longer protecting us? What have we done to make them angry with us?' The mog-ur decided to go off by himself to find the spirits and talk to them. He was gone a long time. Many people became restless waiting for the mog-ur to return, especially the younger ones.

"But Durc was more impatient than anyone. 'The mog-ur will never come back,' he said. 'Our totems don't like the cold, they have gone away. We should leave, too.'

"'We cannot leave our home,' the leader said. 'This is where the Clan has always lived. It is the home of our ancestors. It is the home of the spirits of our totems. They have not gone away. They are unhappy with us, but they would be more unhappy without a place, away from the home they know. We cannot leave and take them away. Where would we go?'

"'Our totems have already left,' Durc argued. 'If we find a better home, they may come back. We can go to the south, following the birds that flee from the cold in autumn, and to the east to the land of the Sun. We can go where Ice Mountain cannot reach us. Ice Mountain moves slowly; we can run like the wind. He would never catch us. If we stay here, we will freeze.'

"'No. We must wait for mog-ur. He will return and tell us what to do,' the leader commanded. But Durc would not listen to his sound advice. He pleaded and argued with the People and a few were swayed. They decided to leave with Durc.

"'Stay,' the others begged. 'Stay until the mog-ur returns.'