The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [108]
The amulet did give her something to believe in; she did revere the spiritual forces, as she understood them. Her totem was testing her. If she proved worthy, she could learn to hunt. The more Broud badgered her, the more determined she became that she would begin to teach herself when spring came. She was going to be better than Broud, better even than Zoug. She was going to be the best sling-hunter in the clan, though no one would know it but her. That was the thought she clung to. It solidified in her mind, like the long tapering shafts of ice that formed at the top of the entrance to the cave where warm air from the fires rose to meet the freezing temperatures outside, and grew, like the heavy translucent curtains of ice, all through the winter.
Though it wasn’t intentional, she was already training herself. Despite the fact that it brought her into closer contact with Broud, she found herself interested and drawn to the men when they sat together spending long days rehashing earlier hunts or discussing strategy for future ones. She found ways to work near them and especially liked it when Dorv or Zoug told tales of hunting with the sling. She revived her interest in Zoug and her feminine response to his wishes, and developed a genuine affection for the old hunter. He was like Creb in a way, proud and stern, and glad for a little attention and warmth, if only from a strange, ugly girl.
Zoug was not blind to her interest as he recounted past glories when he was second-in-command as Grod was now. She was an appreciative, if silent, audience and always demurely respectful. Zoug began to seek Vorn out to explain some technique of tracking or bit of hunting lore knowing the girl would find a way to sit nearby if she could, though he affected not to notice. If she enjoyed his tales, what harm could there be in that?
If I were younger, Zoug thought, and still a provider, I might take her as a mate, when she becomes a woman. She’ll need a mate someday, and ugly as she is, she’s going to have some trouble finding one. But she is young, and strong, and respectful. I have kin in other clans. If I’m strong enough to go to the next Clan Gathering, I’ll speak for her. She may not want to stay here after Broud becomes leader, not that it matters what she wants, but I wouldn’t blame her. I hope I will be gone to the next world before that happens. Zoug never forgot Broud’s attack on him and didn’t like the son of Brun’s mate. He thought the future leader was unreasonably hard on the girl for whom he had developed an affection. She did deserve to be disciplined, but there were limits and Broud went beyond them. She was never disrespectful to him; it took an older, wiser man to know how to handle women. Yes, I will speak for her. If I can’t go, I’ll send a message. If only she weren’t so ugly, he mused.
As difficult as it was for Ayla, it wasn’t all bad. Activities were at a slower pace and there were fewer chores to do. Even Broud could find only so many tasks before there were none left. As time went along, he got a little bored; there wasn’t any fight in her anymore, and the intensity of his harassment slackened. And there was another reason that Ayla began to find the winter more bearable.
At first, in an effort to find valid reasons for her to stay within the boundaries of Creb’s fire, Iza decided to begin training her in the preparation and application of the herbs and plants Ayla had been gathering. Ayla found herself fascinated with the art of healing. The girl’s avid interest soon involved Iza in a regular program and made the medicine woman think she should have begun sooner, as she became fully aware of just how differently her adopted daughter’s mind worked.
If Ayla had been her true child, Iza would only have had to remind her of what