The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [176]
Iza’s eyes opened wide, too, when Ayla reached Creb’s hearth, but recovering quickly, she looked away making no mention of the rabbits. She didn’t know what to say. Creb was sitting on his bearskin apparently meditating and didn’t seem to notice her. He had seen her come into the cave, and by the time she reached the hearth he had managed to mask his expression. No one said a thing as she put the animals down beside the fireplace. A moment later Uba came racing in, and she had no qualms at all about her reactions.
“Did you really hunt those yourself, Ayla?” she asked.
“Yes,” Ayla nodded.
“They look like nice fat rabbits. Are we going to have them for dinner, mother?”
“Well, yes, I guess we are,” Iza replied, still embarrassed and unsure.
“I’ll skin them,” Ayla said quickly, taking out her knife. Iza watched for a moment, then walked over and took the knife from her hand.
“No, Ayla. You hunted them, I’ll skin them.” Ayla stepped back while Iza skinned the rabbits, quickly spitted them, and put them over the fire. She was just as uncomfortable as Iza.
“That was a good meal, Iza,” Creb said later, still avoiding direct comment about Ayla’s hunting, but Uba felt no such compunction.
“Those were good rabbits, Ayla, but next time why don’t you get some ptarmigan,” she said. Uba shared Creb’s predilection for the fat birds with the feathered feet.
The next time Ayla brought her kill to the cave it wasn’t such a shock, and before long her hunting became almost commonplace. With a hunter at his own hearth, Creb reduced the share he took from the other hunters except for the large animals hunted only by the men.
It was a busy spring for Ayla. Her share of the women’s work was not lessened because she hunted, and there were still Iza’s herbs to be collected. But Ayla loved it, she was full of energy, happier than she could remember. She was happy she could hunt without secrecy, happy to be back with the clan, and happy she was finally a woman, and glad for the closer relationships she was developing with the other women.
Ebra and Uka accepted her, though the two older women never could quite forget she was different; Ika had always been friendly; and the attitudes of Aga and her mother had completely reversed since she saved Ona from drowning. Ovra had become a close confidante, and Oga warmed toward her despite Broud. The adolescent ardor Oga had felt for the man had moderated to an indifferent habit, cooled by the years of living with his unpredictable outbursts. But Broud’s vindictive hatred of Ayla grew after her acceptance as a hunter. He kept trying to find ways to bedevil her, kept trying to get a reaction out of her. His harassment had become a way of life she had learned to live with; it left her unmoved. She had begun to think he would never be able to disturb her again.
Spring was in full flower the day she decided to hunt ptarmigan for Creb’s favorite dish. She thought she would look over the new growths and begin restocking Iza’s pharmacopoeia while she was at it. She spent the morning ranging the nearby countryside, then headed for a broad meadow near the steppes. She flushed a couple of low-flying fowl, brought down quickly by swifter stones, then searched through the tall grass looking for a nest and hopefully some eggs. Creb liked the birds stuffed with their own eggs in a nest of edible greens and herbs. She uttered an exclamation of joy when she spied it, and carefully wrapped the eggs in soft moss and tucked them into a deep fold of her wrap. She was delighted with herself. Out of sheer joyful exuberance, she sprinted across the meadow in a fast run, coming to a halt, out of breath, at the top of a knoll covered with new green grass.
Flopping to the ground, she checked her eggs to make sure they were undamaged and took out a