The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [250]
Iza had roused herself when Dorv’s end was near, but the oldest member of the clan went quickly and there was little she could do except try to make him more comfortable. His death had cast a pall on the others. The cave seemed far emptier with him gone and it made them all realize how close they were to the next world. His was the first death since the earthquake.
Ayla was sitting beside Iza, blowing on the liquid in the bone cup and tasting now and then to see if it was cool enough. Her concentration on Iza was so complete, she didn’t notice Creb leaving with Durc or see him go into his small cave, and she wasn’t aware that Brun was watching her. She heard the soft bubbling sounds of Iza’s breath and knew she was dying, but wouldn’t let herself believe it. She searched her memory for treatments.
A poultice of the inner bark of balsam, she thought. Yes, and a yarrow tea. Breathing the steam will help, too. Blackberries and wort, and maidenhair. No, that’s just for a minor cold. Burdock roots? Maybe. Starchwort? Of course, and the fresh root is best in fall. Ayla was determined to fill Iza with teas, cover her with poultices, and drown her in steam, if necessary. Anything, everything, to prolong the life of her mother, the only mother she knew. She could not bear the thought of Iza’s death.
Though Uba was acutely conscious of the seriousness of her mother’s illness, she was not unaware of Brun’s presence. It was not common for men to pay a visit to another man’s hearth when he wasn’t there, and Brun made Uba nervous. She scurried to pick up the bundles strewn around the hearth to tidy it up, glancing from Brun to Ayla to her mother. With no one to guide her and give her direction, she didn’t know how to handle Brun’s visit. No one acknowledged him, no one welcomed him, what was she supposed to do?
Brun observed the trio of females—the old medicine woman, the intense young medicine woman who bore no resemblance to the Clan, yet was their highest-ranked woman of healing, and Uba, destined to be a medicine woman, too. He had always been fond of his sibling. She was the baby girl who was petted and coddled, and welcomed, once a healthy boy had been born to take over the leadership. He had always felt protective toward her. He would never have chosen the man who had been her mate for her; Brun never had liked him, a braggart who ridiculed his crippled brother. Iza had no choice, but she handled it well. Yet she had been happier since her mate died than she ever had before. She was a good woman, a good medicine woman. The clan would miss her.
Iza’s daughter is growing up, he thought, watching her. Uba will be a woman soon. I should start thinking about a mate for her. It should be a good mate, one who will be compatible. It’s better for a hunter, too, if his mate is devoted to him. But who is there except Vorn? There’s Ona to consider, too, and she can’t mate Vorn, they’re siblings. She’ll have to wait until Borg is a man. If she becomes a woman early, she could have a child before Borg is ready to mate. Perhaps I should push him a little, he’s older than Ona. Once he’s old enough to relieve his needs, he’s old enough to become a man. Will Vorn be a good mate for Uba? Droog has been a good influence on him, and he likes to show off around her. Perhaps there is an attraction there. Brun filed his thoughts away in his orderly mind for future reference.
The elecampane-root tea was cooled and Ayla wakened the old woman who had dozed off, tenderly cradling her head while she fed her the medicine. I don’t think you will pull her through this time, Ayla, Brun said to himself, watching the frail woman. How did she age so fast? She was the youngest; now