Jean Auel - The Clan of the Cave Bear

Creb became the object of her intense interest. Ayla pampered him, cared for him as she never had before. She cooked special foods to encourage his appetite, made medicinal brews and poultices, made him rest in the sunshine, and coaxed him into long walks for exercise. He seemed to enjoy her attention and company and to regain some of his strength and verve. But there was something lacking. The special closeness, the easy warmth, the long rambling talks of earlier years were gone. They usually walked in silence. The conversation they did have was strained, and there were no spontaneous demonstrations of affection.

Creb was not the only one growing old. The day that Brun watched the departing hunters from the ridge until they were tiny dots on the steppes below jolted Ayla into a sudden awareness of how much he had changed. His beard was not grizzled, it was gray, and it matched his hair. Deep wrinkles lined his face, cutting chasms into the skin at the corners of his eyes. His hard, muscular body had lost tone, his skin was more flaccid, though he was still powerful. He walked back to the cave slowly and spent the remainder of the day within the boundaries of his hearth. He went with the hunters the next time; but the second time Brun stayed behind, Grod did too, still the loyal lieutenant.

One day near the end of summer, Durc came running into the cave.

«Mama! Mama! A man! A man is coming!»

Ayla rushed to the mouth of the cave, along with everyone else, to watch the stranger walking up the path from the seacoast.

«Ayla, do you think he might be coming for you?» Uba gestured excitedly.

«I don't know. I don't know any more than you, Uba.» Ayla's nerves were taut, and her emotions mixed. She hoped the visitor was from the clan of Zoug's kin, and afraid he would be. He stopped to talk to Brun, then walked with the leader to his hearth. Not long afterward, Ayla saw Ebra leave and head straight for her.

«Brun wants you, Ayla,» she motioned.

Ayla's heart beat wildly. Her knees felt like water, she was sure they would never hold her up as she walked to Brun's hearth. Gratefully she collapsed at Brun's feet. He tapped her shoulder.

«This is Vond, Ayla,» the leader said, motioning toward the visitor. «He has traveled far to see you, all the way from Norg's clan. His mother is sick, and their medicine woman has not been able to help her. She thought you might know of magic that could help.»

Ayla had established a reputation as a medicine woman of great skill and knowledge at the Clan Gathering. The man had come for her magic, not for her. Ayla's relief overpowered her regret. Vond stayed only a few days, but he brought news of his clan. The young man who had been wounded by the cave bear had wintered with them.

He left early the following spring, walking on his own legs, his limp hardly noticeable.

His mate had given birth to a healthy son who was named Creb. Ayla questioned the man and prepared a packet for Vond to take back with him, along with instructions for their medicine woman. She didn't know if her remedy would be any more effective, but he had come so far, at least she could try.

Brun thought about Ayla after Vond left. He had put off making any decision about her while there was hope that some other clan might find her acceptable. But if one runner could find their cave, others could too, if they wished. After so long, he could no longer sustain any hope. Some arrangement would have to be made for her in his clan.

But Broud would be leader soon, and he was the one who should take her. It would be best if that decision came from Broud himself, and as long as Mog-ur lived, there was no need to rush it. Brun decided to leave the problem for the son of his mate.

He seems to have overcome his violent emotions toward her, Brun thought. He never bothers her anymore. Perhaps he's ready, perhaps he's finally ready. But a seed of doubt still remained.

The summer drew to its polychrome close and the clan settled down to the slower pace of the cold season. Uba's pregnancy progressed normally until well beyond her second trimester. Then the stirrings of life stopped. She tried to ignore the growing ache in her back and the discomforting cramps, but when she began spotting blood, she hurried to Ayla.

«How long has it been since you felt movement, Uba?» Ayla asked, concern etched on her face.

«Not for many days, Ayla. What am I going to do? Vorn was so happy with me when life started so soon after we mated. I don't want to lose my baby. What could have gone wrong? It's so close. Spring will be here soon.»

«I don't know, Uba. Do you remember falling? Did you strain to lift something heavy?»

«I don't think so, Ayla.»

«Go back to your hearth, Uba, and go to bed. I'll boil some black birchbark and bring the tea to you. I wish it were fall-I'd get that rattlesnake root Iza got for me. But the snow is too deep to go very far now. I'll try to think of something. You think about it, too, Uba. You know almost everything Iza knew.»

«I have been thinking, Ayla, but I can't remember anything that will start a baby kicking again once it's stopped.»

Ayla couldn't answer. In her heart she knew as well as Uba that it was hopeless, and shared the young woman's anguish.

For the next several days, Uba lay in bed hoping against hope that something would help, and knowing there was nothing she could hope for. The pain in her back became almost unbearable, and the only medicines that stopped it were those that put her to sleep, a drugged unrestful sleep. But the cramps would not grow into contractions, labor would not start.

Ovra almost lived at Vorn's hearth, offering her empathetic support. She had been through the same ordeal herself so many times that she, more than anyone, could understand Uba's pain and sorrow. Goov's mate had never been able to bring a baby to full term and had become even more quiet and withdrawn as the years passed and she remained childless. Ayla was glad Goov was gentle with her. Many men would have turned her out, or taken a second woman. But Goov felt a deep attachment for his mate.

He would not add to her grief by taking in another woman to have children for him. Ayla had begun to give Ovra the secret medicine Iza told her about that prevented her totem from being defeated. It was too hard on the woman to continue having pregnancies that produced no babies for her. Ayla didn't tell her what the medicine was for, but after a time, when Ovra stopped conceiving, she guessed. It was better that way.

On a cold, dismal morning in late winter, Ayla examined Iza's daughter and made a decision.

«Uba,» she called softly. The young woman opened eyes ringed with dark circles that made them seem even more deep-set below her brow ridges. «It's time for the ergot.

We've got to get the contractions started. There's nothing that can save your baby, Uba. If it doesn't come out, you'll die, too. You're young, you can have another baby,» Ayla motioned.

Uba looked at Ayla, then Ovra, then back to Ayla again.

«All right,» she nodded. «You're right, there's no hope. My baby is dead.» Uba's labor was difficult. It was hard to get the contractions started and it made Ayla reluctant to give her anything too strong for pain for fear they would stop. Though the other women of the clan stopped by for short visits to offer their encouragement and support, none wanted to stay for long. They all knew her pain and effort would be in vain.

Only Ovra stayed to help Ayla.

When the stillborn was delivered, Ayla quickly wrapped it with the placental tissue in the leather birthing blanket.

«It was a boy,» she told Uba.

«Can I see it?» the exhausted young woman asked.

«I think it's best that you don't, Uba. It will only make you feel worse. You rest, I'll dispose of it for you. You're too weak to get up.»