The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [126]
The sun had disappeared in the west and most people had straggled off to their own shelters. Iza and Aba were talking on one side of the large bonfire, died down to embers, while Ayla and Aga sat silently watching Ona and Uba play. Aga’s year-old son, Groob, was sleeping peacefully in her arms, contentedly full of warm milk.
“Ayla,” the woman began, a little hesitantly. “I want you to know something. I have not always been nice to you.”
“Aga, you have always been courteous,” Ayla interrupted.
“That is not the same as nice,” Aga said. “I talked to Droog. He has grown fond of my daughter, even though she was born to the hearth of my first mate. He never had a girl at his fire before. Droog says you will always carry a part of Ona’s spirit with you. I don’t really understand the ways of the spirits, but Droog says whenever a hunter saves the life of another hunter, he keeps a piece of the spirit of the man he saved. They become something like siblings, like brothers. I’m glad you share Ona’s spirit, Ayla. I’m glad she is still here to share it with you. If I am ever fortunate enough to have another child, and if it is a girl, Droog has promised to name her Ayla.”
Ayla was stunned. She didn’t know how to respond. “Aga, that is too great an honor. Ayla is not a Clan name.”
“It is now,” Aga said.
The woman rose, motioned to Ona, and started toward her shelter. She turned back for a moment. “I am going now,” she said.
It was the closest gesture people of the Clan had for “good-bye.” Most often that was omitted; they simply left. The Clan had no term for “thank you” either. They understood gratitude, but that carried a different connotation, generally a sense of obligation, usually from a person of lesser status. They helped each other because it was their way of life, their duty, necessary for survival, and no thanks were expected or received. Special gifts or favors carried the onus of obligation to return them with something of like value; this was understood and no thanks were necessary. As long as Ona lived, unless an occasion arose where she, or, until she came of age, her mother, could return the favor in kind and secure a piece of Ayla’s spirit, she would be in Ayla’s debt. Aga’s offer was not the return of an obligation, it was more, it was her way of saying thank you.
Aba got up to leave shortly after her daughter had gone. “Iza always said you were lucky,” the old woman gestured as she passed the girl. “I believe it now.”
Ayla walked over and sat beside Iza after Aba left. “Iza, Aga told me I will always carry a piece of Ona’s spirit with me, but I only brought her back, you were the one who made her breathe again. You saved her life as much as I did. Don’t you carry a part of her spirit, too?” the girl asked. “You must carry pieces of many spirits, you have saved many lives.”
“Why do you suppose a medicine woman has status of her own, Ayla? It’s because she carries part of the spirits of all her clan, both men and women. Of the whole Clan for that matter, through her own clan. She helps bring them into this world and cares for them all through their lives. When a woman becomes a medicine woman, she is given that piece of the spirit from everyone, even those whose life she hasn’t saved, because she never knows when she will.
“When a person dies and goes to the world of the spirits,” Iza continued, “the medicine woman loses a part of her spirit. Some believe it makes a medicine woman try harder, but most of them would try just as hard anyway. Not every woman can be a medicine woman, not even every daughter of one. There must be something inside that makes her want to help people. You have it, Ayla, that’s why I’ve been training you. I saw it from the first when you wanted to help the rabbit after Uba was born. And you didn’t stop to think of the danger to yourself when you