The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [259]
Ayla didn’t blame Creb, she blamed herself, but watching another woman nurse her son when she couldn’t was more than she could bear. Oga, Aga, and Ika had each come to her and told her they would nurse Durc for her, and she was grateful, but most often it was Uba who brought Durc to one of them and stayed to visit until he was through. With the loss of her milk, Ayla lost an important part of her son’s life. She still grieved for Iza and blamed herself for the woman’s death, and Creb had withdrawn so far into himself that she couldn’t reach him and was afraid to try. But every night when she took Durc to bed with her, she was grateful to Broud. His refusal to accept him meant her son wasn’t lost to her completely.
In the waning days of fall, Ayla took up her sling again as an excuse to go off alone. She had hunted so little the past year, her skill was rusty, but with practice, her accuracy and speed returned. Most days she left early and returned late, leaving Uba to care for Durc, and only regretted that winter was closing in on them so quickly. The exercise was good for her, but she had a problem to overcome. She hadn’t hunted much after she became a fully developed woman, and heavy breasts bobbing at every step annoyed her when she ran or jumped. She noticed that men wore a leather loincloth to protect their exposed and delicate organs, and she fashioned a band to hold her bosom in place, tied around her back. It made her more comfortable, and she ignored the curious sidewise glances cast at her when she put it on.
Though hunting strengthened her body and occupied her mind while she was out, she still carried her load of grief and sorrow. To Uba, it seemed that the joy had left Creb’s hearth. She missed her mother, and both Creb and Ayla had an aura of perpetual sadness. Only Durc, with his unknowing baby ways, brought a hint of the happiness she had once taken for granted. He could even rouse Creb out of his lethargy on occasion.
Ayla had left early and Uba was away from the hearth looking for something in the back of the cave. Oga had just brought Durc back and Creb was keeping his eye on the boy. He was full and contented, but not very sleepy. He crawled toward the old man and pulled himself up on wobbly, unsure legs, clutching at Creb for support.
“So you’re going to start walking soon,” Creb motioned. “Before this winter is over, you’ll be running all over this cave, young man.”
Creb poked him in his little pot belly to emphasize his gestures. The corners of Durc’s mouth turned up and he made a sound Creb had heard from only one other person in the clan. He laughed. Creb poked him again and the boy doubled over in a babyish giggle, lost his balance, and sat down on his firm little rump. Creb helped him up again and looked at the child as he had never looked at him before.
Durc’s baby legs were bowed, but not nearly as much as other babies of the clan; and though they were chubby, Creb could see his bones were longer and thinner. I think Durc’s legs are going to be straight when he gets older, like Ayla’s, and he’s going to be tall, too. And his neck, it was so thin and scrawny when he was born, he couldn’t hold his head up; it’s just like Ayla’s neck. His head isn’t like hers, though, or is it? That high forehead, that’s Ayla’s. Creb turned Durc’s head to look at his profile. Yes, definitely her forehead, but the brows and the eyes, they’re Clan, and the back of his head, that’s more like Clan, too.
Ayla was right. He’s not deformed, he’s a mixture, a mixture of her and Clan. I wonder, is that the way it always is? Do the spirits mix? Maybe that’s what makes girls, not a weak male totem. Does life start with a mixing of male and female totem spirits? Creb shook his head, he didn’t know, but it set the old magician to thinking. He thought often of Durc that cold lonely winter. He had a feeling Durc was important, but just why eluded him.
27
“But Ayla, I’m not like you. I can’t