The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [224]
Oga went back to the fireplace near the cave. “I don’t think they’re hungry, yet,” she motioned.
“It looks like they’re coming after all,” Ovra said. “I hope they don’t linger too long over the meal.”
“Brun’s coming, too. The leaders’ meeting must be over, but I don’t know where Mog-ur is,” Ebra added.
“He went into the cave with the mog-urs earlier. They must be in this clan’s place of spirits. No telling when they’ll be out. Do we have to wait for him?” Uka asked.
“I’ll set something aside for him,” Ayla said. “He always forgets to eat when he’s getting ready for ceremonies. He’s so used to eating his food cold, sometimes I think he likes it better. I don’t think he’ll mind if we don’t wait for him.”
“Look, they’re starting already. We’re going to miss the first stories,” Ona gestured with disappointment.
“It can’t be helped, Ona,” Aga said. “We can’t go until the men are through.”
“We won’t miss too many, Ona,” Ika consoled. “The stories will go on all night. And tomorrow the men will show their best hunts and we’ll be allowed to watch. Won’t that be exciting?”
“I’d rather watch the women’s stories,” Ona said.
“Broud says our clan is going to do the mammoth hunt. He thinks we’re sure to win; Brun is going to let him lead it,” Oga gestured, her eyes glowing with pride.
“That will be exciting, Ona. I remember when Broud became a man and led the hunt dance. I couldn’t even talk yet, or understand anyone, but it was still exciting,” Ayla motioned.
After the meal was served, the women waited anxiously, casting longing glances at the congregation of women gathered at the far end of the clearing.
“Ebra, go ahead and watch your stories, we have things to discuss anyway,” Brun gestured.
The women picked up babies and herded young children toward the group seated around an old woman who had just started a new story.
“ … and the mother of Great Ice Mountain …”
“Hurry,” Ayla motioned. “She’s telling the legend of Durc. I don’t want to miss any of it, it’s my favorite.”
“Everyone knows that, Ayla,” Ebra said.
The women of Brun’s clan found places to sit and were soon caught up in the tale.
“She tells it a little differently,” Ayla motioned after a while.
“Every clan’s version is a little different, and every storyteller has his own way, but it’s the same story. You’re just used to Dorv. He’s a man, he understands men’s parts better. A woman tells more about the mothers, not only the mother of Great Ice Mountain, but how sad the mothers of Durc and the other young people were when they left the clan,” Uka answered.
Ayla remembered that Uka had lost her son during the earthquake. The woman could understand a mother’s sadness at losing her son. The modified version gave the legend a new meaning to Ayla, too. For a moment her brow furrowed with concern. My son’s name is Durc; I hope that doesn’t mean I’ll lose him someday. Ayla hugged her baby. No, it can’t be. I almost lost him once, the danger is over now, isn’t it?
A stray breeze stirred a few loose tendrils of his hair, cooling for a moment his sweat-beaded brow, as Brun carefully gauged the distance to the stump of a tree near the edge of the cleared space that fronted the cave. The rest of the tree, sheared of branches, formed part of the palisade that surrounded the cave bear. The whiff of air only teased. It brought no respite from the stifling afternoon sun glaring down on the dusty field. But the ethereal zephyr moved more than the tensely watching throng that lined the periphery.
Brun was as still as they, standing with feet apart, his right arm hanging down at his side grasping the handle of his bola. The three heavy stone balls, wrapped in leather shrunk to fit, and attached to braided thongs of unequal length, were splayed out on