The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [246]
“Our medicine woman says she’s skilled,” Norg was saying as Broud entered the cave.
“She is Iza’s daughter,” Brun motioned, “and Iza has trained her well.”
“It’s a shame Iza couldn’t make it. She is ill, I understand.”
“Yes, that’s one reason I want to hurry. We have a long way to go. Your hospitality has been excellent, Norg, but one’s own cave is home. This has been one of the best Clan Gatherings. It will be long remembered,” Brun said.
Broud turned his back, clenching his fists, before he could see the compliment Norg paid to the son of Brun’s mate. Ayla, Ayla, Ayla. Everybody is talking about Ayla. You’d think no one did anything at this Clan Gathering except her. Was she first chosen? Who was on the bear’s head while she was safely on the ground? So what if she saved that hunter’s life, he’ll probably never walk again. She’s ugly, and she’s too tall, and her son is deformed, and they should know how insolent she is at home.
Just then, Ayla ran past, carrying several bundles. Broud’s look of hate was so full of malice it made her flinch. What did I do now? she thought. I’ve hardly seen Broud the whole time we’ve been here.
Broud was a full-grown, powerfully built man of the Clan, but the threat he posed was far greater than mere physical harm. He was the son of the leader’s mate, and destined to be leader himself one day. He thought about that as he watched Ayla put her bundles down outside the cave.
After they ate, the women quickly packed the few utensils they had used to make the morning meal. Brun was impatient to leave, and so were they. Ayla had a few last gestures with some of the medicine women, Norg’s mate, and a few others, then wrapped her son in his carrying cloak and took her place in front of the women of Brun’s clan. Brun gave a signal, and they started across the cleared area in front of the cave. Before rounding the bend in the trail, Brun stopped, and they all turned to look back one last time. Norg and his whole clan were standing at the mouth of their cave.
“Walk with Ursus,” Norg signaled.
Brun nodded and started out again. It would be seven years before they saw Norg again—or perhaps never. Only the Spirit of the Great Cave Bear knew.
Just as Brun had thought, the return trip was difficult for Creb. No longer buoyed by anticipation, and further depressed by brooding over the knowledge he kept secret, the old man’s body betrayed him time and time again. Brun’s concern deepened; he had never known the great magician to be so dispirited. He lagged behind. Many times Brun had to send a hunter back to find him while they waited. The leader slowed the pace, hoping it would make it easier for him, but Creb just didn’t seem to care. The few evening ceremonies, held at Brun’s insistence, lacked force. Mog-ur seemed reluctant, his gestures stiff, as though his heart wasn’t in it. Brun noticed that Creb and Ayla kept their distance, and though she had no trouble keeping up, Ayla’s step had lost its spring. There’s something wrong between those two, he thought.
They had been traveling through tall, sere grass since midmorning. Brun glanced back; Creb was nowhere in sight. He started to signal one of the men, then changed his mind and walked back to Ayla instead.
“Go back and find Mog-ur,” he motioned.
She looked surprised, then nodded. Giving Durc to Uba, she hurried back along the trail of bent, stepped-on grass. She found him quite a distance behind, walking slowly and leaning heavily on his staff. He seemed to be in pain. Ayla had been so stunned by his response to her loving remorse she hadn’t known what to say to him afterward. She was sure he was suffering from his aching, arthritic joints, but he had refused to let her give him anything for the pain. After the first few rebuffs, she didn’t offer again, though her heart ached for him.