Jean Auel - The Clan of the Cave Bear

Oga was lenient toward him, too, and though Grev was technically past his nursing year, he took advantage of his mother's indulgence. Both were often found together on her lap, each suckling a breast until their interest in each other overcame their desire for mothering, and they let go to tussle with each other. Durc was as tall as Grev, though not nearly as stocky; and though Grev usually won over Durc when they wrestled playfully, Durc easily outdistanced the older boy when they raced. The two were inseparable; they sought each other out at every opportunity.

«You're going to take the boy with you?» Creb gestured after an uncomfortable silence.

«Yes,» she nodded, wiping the child's hands and face. «I promised to take him hunting with me. I doubt that I'll be able to hunt much with him along, but I need to gather some herbs, too, and it's a nice day.»

Creb grunted.

«You should go out, too, Creb,» she added. «The sun would be good for you.»

«Yes, yes, I will, Ayla. Later.»

For a moment, she thought she ought to coax him out of the cave with the offer of a walk beside the stream as they used to do, but he already seemed turned inward. She left him sitting where he was, picked up Durc, and hurried out. Creb didn't look up until he was sure she was gone. He reached for his staff, then decided it was too much effort to get up, and put it down again.

Ayla worried about him as she started out with Durc on her hip and her collecting basket strapped to her back. She sensed his mental power was diminishing. He was more absentminded than ever, and he repeated questions she had already answered. He hardly stirred himself to go out of the cave, even when the weather was warm and sunny. And when he sat for long hours in what he called meditation, he often fell asleep sitting up.

Ayla's strides lengthened once she was out of sight of the cave. The freedom of movement and the beautiful summer day eased her concern into a more remote part of her mind. She let Durc walk when they came to a clearing and stopped to collect some plants. He watched her, then grabbed a handful of grass and purple-flowered alfalfa and pulled it out by the roots. He brought it to her clutched in his little fist.

«You're a big help, Durc,» she motioned, taking it from him and putting it into the basket beside her.

«Durc get more,» he gestured, running off.

She sat back on her heels watching her son tugging at a larger handful. It gave suddenly, and he sat down hard. He screwed up his face to cry, more in surprise than in pain, but Ayla ran to him, picked him up, and tossed him into the air, catching him again in her arms. Durc giggled with delight. She put him down and pretended she was going to chase him.

«I'm going to get you,» Ayla motioned.

Durc ran away on his baby legs, laughing. She let him get ahead of her, then chased after him on hands and knees, grabbing him and puffing him over on top of her, both of them laughing at the game. She tickled him just to hear him laugh again.

Ayla never laughed with her son unless they were alone, and Durc learned early that no one else either appreciated or approved of his smiles and giggles. Though Durc made the gesture for mother to all the women in the clan, in his baby heart, he knew Ayla was special. He always felt happier with her than with anyone else, and he loved it when she took him with her alone, without the other women. And he loved the other game only he and his mother played.

«Ba-ba-na-nee-nee,» Durc sounded.

«Ba-ba-na-nee-nee,» Ayla mimicked the nonsense syllables.

«No-na-nee-ga-goo-la,» Durc voiced another set of sounds.

Ayla copied him again, then tickled him. She loved to hear him laugh. It always brought laughter to her own lips. Then she made a set of sounds, sounds she liked to hear him make more than any others. She didn't know why, except it stirred in her a feeling of such tenderness it came close to bringing tears.

«Ma-ma-ma-ma,» she said.

«Ma-ma-ma-ma,» Durc repeated. Ayla wrapped her arms around her son and held him close. «Ma-ma,» Durc said again.

He wriggled to get free. The only time he liked to cuddle for long was when he went to sleep snuggled beside her. She wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye.

Watering eyes were one peculiarity he did not share with her. Durc's large brown eyes, deep set below heavy brow ridges, were Clan.

«Ma-ma,» Durc said. He often called her by the syllables when they were alone, especially after he was reminded. «You hunt now?» he gestured.

The last few times she had taken Durc with her, she spent some time showing him how to hold a sling. She was going to make one for him, but Zoug beat her to it. The old man didn't go out anymore, but his pleasure in trying to train the boy also pleased Ayla.

Though Durc was young, Ayla could see he would have her aptitude with the weapon, and he was as proud of his miniature sling as he was of his small spear.

He liked the attention he got as he strutted with a sling draped through the cord around his waist-all he wore in summer besides his amulet-and a spear in his hand.

Grev had to have small weapons, too. The pair of them brought glimmers of amusement to the eyes of the clan, and comments about what fine little men they were. Their future role was already being defined. When Durc discovered that imperious bossiness to little girls was approved, and even benignly condoned toward grown women, he never hesitated to push to the limits allowed-except with his mother.

Durc knew his mother was different. Only she laughed with him, only she played the game of sounds with him, only she had the soft golden hair he loved to touch. He could never remember her nursing him, but he would sleep with no one else. He knew she was a woman because she answered to the same motion as the other women. But she was much taller than any man, and she hunted. He wasn't exactly sure what hunting was, except men did it-and his mother. She fit into no category; she was woman and not woman, man and not man. She was unique. The name he had begun to call her, the name made with sounds, seemed to suit her best. She was Mama; and Mama, the golden-haired goddess he adored, did not nod approvingly when he attempted to boss her.

Ayla put Durc's little sling in his hands, and holding hers over his, tried to show him how to use it. Zoug had done the same thing, and he was beginning to get the idea.

Then she took her sling from her waist thong, found some pebbles, and hurled them at nearby objects. When she set small stones on larger boulders and proceeded to knock them off again, Durc thought it was funny. He toddled over with more stones to see her do it again. After a while he lost interest, and she went back to gathering plants while Durc followed after her. They found some raspberries and stopped to eat them.

«You are a mess, my sticky son,» Ayla motioned, laughing at him with red juice on his face, hands, and round belly. She picked him up, tucked him under one arm, and carried him to a creek to wash him. Then she found a large leaf, folded it into a cone, and filled it with water for Durc and her to drink. Durc yawned and rubbed his eyes. She spread her carrying cloak out on the ground in the shade of a large oak, and lay down beside him until he fell asleep.

In the quiet of the summer afternoon, Ayla sat with her back against the tree watching butterflies flitting then coming to rest with folded-back wings and insects buzzing in perpetual motion, and listened to a twittering symphony of chirping birds. Her mind wandered back to the events of the morning. I hope Uba will be happy with Vorn, she thought. I hope he's good to her. It's so empty with her gone, even if she isn't far away. It's just not the same. She'll be cooking for her mate now, and sleeping with him after the isolation. I hope she has a baby soon, that would make her happy.