Jean Auel - THE SHELTERS OF STONE

Marthona and Zelandoni cleaned the baby with a velvety soft rabbitskin that Ayla had made for the purpose. Marthona had a small blanket ready, again velvety soft, and so smooth, it felt like the baby's skin. It was made from the hide of a nearly full-term deer foetus. Zelandoni had told Jondalar that it would be especially lucky for the child born to his hearth if he could secure such a hide for the birth, and he and his brother had gone out near the end of winter looking for a pregnant deer.

Ayla had helped him make the foetal deerskin into the supple leather blanket. He had always been amazed at the softness of her leathers, a skill he knew she had learned from the Clan. After working with her on one, he understood how much effort it took, even starting with a tender foetal skin. Zelandoni laid the baby on the blanket, then Marthona wrapped the newborn in it and brought the child to Ayla.

"You should be pleased. She's a perfect little girl," Marthona said, giving the tiny bundle to her mother.

Ayla looked at the tiny likeness of herself. "She's so beautiful!" She unwrapped the swaddling of soft skins and carefully examined her new daughter, half-fearful in spite of the reassuring words that she would find some deformity. "She is perfect. Did you ever see such a beautiful baby, Marthona?"

The woman just smiled. Of course she had. Her own babies, but this one, the daughter of her son's hearth, was no less beautiful than her own had been.

"The delivery wasn't very hard at all, Zelandoni," Ayla said when the donier came and looked at them both. "You helped a lot, but it wasn't really so hard. I'm so glad she's a girl. Look, she's trying to find my breast." Ayla helped her, with the ease of experience, Zelandoni thought. "Can Jondalar come and see her? I think she looks a lot like him, don't you, Marthona?"

"He can come soon," Zelandoni said as she examined Ayla and wrapped some fresh absorbent leather between her legs. "There was no tearing, Ayla, no damage. Only the bleeding to cleanse. It was a good delivery. Do you have a name for her?"

"Yes, I've been thinking about it ever since you told me I would have to choose the name for my baby," Ayla said.

"Good. Tell me the name. I will make a symbol for it on this stone, and exchange it for this," she said, picking up the birthing blanket wrapped into a bundle around the afterbirth. "Then I will take this out and bury it, before the spirit life still remaining in the afterbirth tries to seek a home close to the life it once held. I must do it quickly, then I will tell Jondalar to come in."

"I've decided to call her…" Ayla began.

"No! Don't say it out loud, just whisper it to me," Zelandoni said.

As the donier bent close, Ayla whispered in her ear. Then she left quickly. Marthona, Folara, and Proleva sat beside the new mother, admiring the baby and talking quietly. Ayla was feeling tired, but happy and relaxed, not at all as she had after Durc was born. Then she had been exhausted and in pain. She dozed off a little and was awakened when Zelandoni returned and gave her the small stone that now held enigmatic marks in red and black paint.

"Put this in a safe place, perhaps in the niche behind your donii," Zelandoni said.

Ayla nodded, then saw another head appear. "Jondalar!" she said. He knelt down beside the sleeping platform to get closer.

"How are you, Ayla?"

"I'm fine. It was not a bad delivery, Jondalar. Much easier than I thought it would be. And see the baby?" she said as she unwrapped the blanket so he could see. "She's perfect!"

"You got the girl you wanted," he said, looking at the tiny newborn and feeling a little awed. "She's so little. And look, she even has tiny fingernails." The thought of a woman giving birth to a complete new human being suddenly overwhelmed him. "What have you named your daughter, Ayla?"

She looked at Zelandoni. "Can I tell him?"

"Yes, it's safe now," she said.

"I've named our daughter Jonayla, after both you and me, Jondalar, because she came from both of us. She is your daughter, too."

"Jonayla. I like that name. Jonayla," he said.

Marthona liked the name, too. She and Proleva smiled indulgently at Ayla. It was not uncommon for new mothers to try to reassure their mates that their children came from their spirits. Although Ayla had not said "spirit," they were sure they understood what she meant. Zelandoni wasn't as sure. Ayla tended to say exactly what she meant. Jondalar had no doubt. He knew exactly what she meant.

It would be nice if it was true, he thought as he looked at the tiny little girl. Exposed to the cool air without her covers, she was beginning to wake up.

"She is beautiful. She's going to look just like you, Ayla. I can see it already," he said.

"She looks like you, too, Jondalar. Would you like to hold her?"

"I don't know," he said, backing off a bit. "She's so small."

"Not too small for you to hold, Jondalar," Zelandoni said. "Here, I'll help you. Sit down comfortably." She quickly wrapped the baby back up in her blanket, picked her up, and placed her in Jondalar's arms, showing him how to hold her.

The infant had her eyes open and seemed to be looking at him. Are you my daughter? he wondered. You are so tiny, you will need someone to watch over you, and help take care of you until you grow up. He held her a little closer, feeling protective. Then, to his surprise, he felt a sudden and completely unexpected flush of warmth and a protective love for the infant. Jonayla, he thought. My daughter, Jonayla.

The next day Zelandoni stopped to see Ayla. She had been waiting and watching for a time when she was alone. Ayla was sitting on a cushion on the floor, nursing her baby, and Zelandoni lowered herself to a cushion on the floor beside her.

"Why don't you use the stool, Zelandoni," Ayla said.

"This is fine, Ayla. It isn't that I can't sit on the floor, it's just that there are times when I prefer not to. How is Jonayla?"

"She's fine. She's a good baby. She woke me up last night, but she sleeps most of the time," Ayla said.

"I wanted to tell you that she will be named as a Zelandonii to Jondalar's hearth on the day after next, and her name given to the Cave," the woman said.

"Good," Ayla said. "I'll be glad when she's Zelandonii, and named to Jondalar's hearth. It will make everything complete."

"Have you heard about Relona? The mate of Shevonar, the man who was trampled on by the bison shortly after you arrived?" Zelandoni asked, sounding as though she were making friendly conversation.

"No, what about her?"

"She and Ranokol, Shevonar's brother, are going to mate next summer. He started out by helping her to compensate for the loss of her mate, and then they grew to care for each other. I think it may be a good pairing," the older woman said.

"I'm glad to hear that. He was so upset when Shevonar died. It was almost as though he blamed himself. I think he thought he should have died instead," Ayla said. There was a silence then, but she felt a sense of expectancy. She wondered if the First had come for a reason that she hadn't yet said.

"There is something else I want to talk to you about," Zelandoni said. "I'd like to know more about your son. I understand why you never mentioned him, especially after all that trouble about Echozar, but if you wouldn't mind talking about him, there are some things I would like to know."

"I don't mind talking about him. Sometimes I ache to talk about him," Ayla said.

She talked at length to the donier about the son she had when she lived with the Clan, the one of mixed spirits, about her morning sickness that lasted all day and almost for her entire pregnancy, and about her bone-wrenching delivery. She had already forgotten whatever discomfort she had felt giving birth to Jonayla, but she still remembered the pain of giving birth to Durc. She told her about his deformity in the eyes of the Clan, her flight to her small cave to save his life, and her return though she thought she would still lose him. She spoke of her joy at his acceptance, and the name Creb picked out for him, Durc, and the legend of Durc, where his name came from. She talked about their life together, his laughter and her delight that he could make sounds the way she could, and the language they started to make up together, and she talked about leaving him behind with the Clan when she was forced to go. Toward the end of her story, she was finding it difficult to talk for the tears.