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“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.
But what about me? No one has ever come from that clan to ask about me. Maybe they just can’t find our cave. I don’t think they were all that interested, anyway. I’m glad. I don’t want to mate a man I don’t know. I don’t even want any of the ones I do know, and none of them want me. I’m too tall; even Droog barely reaches my chin. Iza used to wonder if I would ever stop growing. I’m beginning to wonder myself. Broud hates it. He can’t stand having a woman around taller than he is. But he hasn’t bothered me at all since we got back from the Clan Gathering. Why does it make me shudder every time he looks at me?
Brun’s getting old. Ebra’s been getting medicine for his sore muscles and stiff joints lately. He’s going to make Broud leader soon. I know it. And Goov is going to be mog-ur. He’s doing more of the ceremonies all the time. I don’t think Creb wants to be mog-ur anymore, not since that time I watched them. Why did I go into the cave that night? I don’t even remember how I got there. I wish I had never gone to the Clan Gathering. If I hadn’t gone, I might have kept Iza alive for a few more years. I miss her so much, and I never did find a mate. Durc did, though.
It’s strange that Ura was allowed to live, almost as if she was meant to be Durc’s mate. Men of the Others, Oda said. Who are they? Iza said I was born to them; why don’t I remember? What happened to my real mother? To her mate? Did I have any siblings? Ayla felt a faint queasiness in the pit of her stomach—not nausea, exactly, just a sense of unease. Then suddenly her scalp crawled when she remembered something Iza had told her the night she died. Ayla had pushed it out of her mind; it was too painful to think about Iza’s death.
Iza told me to leave! She said I wasn’t Clan, she said I was born to the Others. She told me to find my own people, find my own mate. She said Broud would find a way to hurt me if I stayed. North, she said they live north, beyond the peninsula on the mainland.
How can I leave? This is my home. I can’t leave Creb, and Durc needs me. What if I couldn’t find any Others? And if I did, they might not want me anyway. No one wants an ugly woman. How do I know I’d find a mate even if I did find some Others?
Creb is getting old, though. What’s going to happen to me when he’s gone? Who will provide for me then? I can’t just live with Durc, some man will have to take me. But who? Broud! He’s going to be leader; if no one else wants me, he’ll have to. What if I have to live with Broud? He wouldn’t want me either, but he knows I’d hate it. He’d do it just because I’d hate it. I couldn’t stand living with Broud, I’d rather live with some man I don’t know from another clan, but they don’t want me either.
Maybe I should leave. I could take Durc and we could both go. But what if I didn’t find any Others? And what if something happened to me? Who would take care of him? He’d be all alone, just like I was. I was lucky that Iza found me; Durc might not be so lucky. I can’t take him away, he was born here, he is Clan, even if he is part me, too. He has a mate arranged for him. What would Ura do if I took Durc away? Oda is training her to be Durc’s mate. She’s telling her there is a man for her even if she is deformed and ugly. Durc will need Ura, too. He will need a mate when he grows up, and Ura is just right for him.
But I couldn’t leave without Durc. I’d rather live with Broud than leave Durc. I have to stay, there’s no other way. I’ll stay and live with Broud, if I have to. Ayla looked at her sleeping child and tried to compose her mind, tried to be a good Clan woman and accept her fate. A fly landed on Durc’s nose. He twitched, rubbed his nose in his sleep, then settled down again.
I wouldn’t know where to go anyway. North? What does that tell me? Everything is north of here, only the sea is south. I could wander around for the rest of my life and not find anyone. And they can be as bad as Broud. Oda said those men forced her, didn’t even let her put
her baby down. It would be better to stay here with a Broud I know, than some man who might be worse.
It’s late, I’d better get back. Ayla woke her son, and as she walked back to the cave, tried to push thoughts of Others out of her mind, but stray wisps of wondering kept insinuating themselves. Once recalled, she couldn’t quite forget the Others.
“Are you busy, Ayla?” Uba asked. She had an expression that was both shy and pleased, and Ayla guessed why. She decided to let Uba tell her anyway.
“No, I’m not really busy. I’ve just been mixing some mint and alfalfa and wanted to taste it. Why don’t I put some water on for tea.”
“Where’s Durc?” Uba asked while Ayla stirred up the fire and added more wood and a few cooking stones.
“He’s outside with Grev. Oga’s watching them. Those two, they’re always together,” Ayla motioned.
“That’s probably because they nursed together. They’re closer than brothers. They’re almost like two born together.”
“But two born together often look alike, and they certainly don’t. Do you remember that woman at the Clan Gathering with two born together? I couldn’t tell them apart.”
“Sometimes it’s unlucky to have two born together, and three born together are never allowed to live. How could a woman feed three at one time—she only has two breasts?” Uba questioned.
“With a lot of help. It’s enough strain on a woman to have two. I’m grateful Oga has always had plenty of milk, for Durc’s sake.”
“I hope I have plenty of milk,” Uba gestured. “I think I’m going to have a baby, Ayla.”
“I thought so, Uba. You haven’t had your woman’s curse since you were mated, have you?”
“No. I think Vorn’s totem has been waiting a long time. It must have been very strong.”
“Have you told him yet?”
