The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [279]
When she stood up, Durc was struggling to get free of Uba’s restraining arms. Something was going on that concerned his mother. He wasn’t sure what, but he didn’t like it. With a jerk, he broke loose and ran to Ayla.
“You’re going away,” he accused, beginning to understand and indignant that he hadn’t been told. “You’re all dressed and going away.”
Ayla hesitated only a fraction of an instant, then held out her arms as he flew into them. She picked him up and hugged him tight, fighting back tears. She put him down and hunkered down to his level, looking directly into his large brown eyes.
“Yes, Durc, I’m going away. I have to go away.”
“Take me with you, Mama. Take me with you! Don’t leave me!”
“I can’t take you with me, Durc. You have to stay here with Uba. She will take care of you. Brun will, too.”
“I don’t want to stay here!” Durc gestured fiercely. “I want to go with you. Don’t go away and leave me!”
Uba was coming toward them. She had to, she had to take Durc away from the spirit. Ayla hugged her son again.
“I love you, Durc. Never forget that, I love you.” She picked him up and put him in Uba’s arms. “Take care of my son for me, Uba,” she motioned, looking into her sad eyes that looked back and saw her. “Take care of him … my sister.”
Broud watched them, getting more furious. The woman was dead, she was a spirit. Why wasn’t she acting like one? And some of his clan weren’t treating her like one.
“That’s a spirit,” he gestured angrily. “She’s dead. Don’t you know she’s dead?”
Ayla marched straight to Broud and stood tall before him. He was having trouble not seeing her, too. He tried to ignore her, but she was looking down at him, not sitting at his feet as a woman should.
“I’m not dead, Broud,” she gestured defiantly. “I won’t die. You can’t make me die. You can make me go away, you can take my son from me, but you can’t make me die!”
Two emotions vied within Broud, fury and fear. He raised his fist in an overwhelming urge to strike her, then held it there, afraid to touch her. It’s a trick, he told himself, it’s a spirit’s trick. She’s dead, she was cursed.
“Hit me, Broud! Go ahead, acknowledge this spirit. Hit me and you’ll know I’m not dead.”
Broud turned to Brun, to look away from the spirit. He lowered his arm, uncomfortable that he could not make it look natural. He hadn’t touched her, but he was afraid just raising his clenched fist had acknowledged her, and he tried to pass the bad luck on to Brun.
“Don’t think I didn’t see you, Brun. You answered her when she was talking to you, before she went into the cave. She’s a spirit, you’ll bring bad luck,” he denounced.
“Only on myself, Broud, and what more could I have? But when did you see her talk to me? When did you see her go into the cave? Why did you threaten to strike a spirit? You still don’t understand, do you? You acknowledged her, Broud, she has beaten you. You did everything you could to her, you even cursed her. She’s dead, and still she won. She was a woman, and she had more courage than you, Broud, more determination, more self-control. She was more man than you are. Ayla should have been the son of my mate.”
Ayla was surprised at Brun’s unexpected eulogy. Durc was squirming to get away again, calling out to her. She couldn’t bear it and hurried to leave. As she passed Brun, she bowed her head and made a gesture of gratitude. When she reached the ridge, she turned and looked back one more time. She saw Brun raise his hand as if to scratch his nose, but it looked as if he made a gesture, the same gesture Norg had made when they left the Clan Gathering. It looked as if Brun had said, “Walk with Ursus.”
The last thing Ayla heard as she disappeared behind the broken ridge was Durc’s plaintive wail—
“Maama, Maaama, Maamaaa!”
Turn the page to read an exciting preview from Jean M. Auel’s latest novel—
The Land of Painted Caves
Available spring 2011 from Crown Publishers
1
The band of travelers walked along the path between the clear sparkling water of Grass River and the black-streaked