The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [53]
Creb’s stare into the angry eyes of his brother was firm and uncompromising. For a moment, they were locked in a silent battle of wills. But Mog-ur knew that the logic of a Cave Lion totem for the girl was implacable no matter how illogical it seemed for a female to have the protection of so powerful a spirit. Mog-ur had only emphasized what the Cave Lion himself had done. Brun had never questioned the revelations of his crippled brother before, but for some reason he felt tricked by the magician. He didn’t like it, but he had to admit he had never seen a totem so obviously corroborated. He was the first to look away, but he wasn’t happy.
The idea of taking the strange child into the clan had been difficult enough, but this totem of hers was too much. It was irregular, unconventional; Brun didn’t like anomalies in his well-ordered clan. He clamped his jaw shut with determination. There would be no further deviations. If the girl was to be a member of his clan, she would conform, Cave Lion or no Cave Lion.
Iza was stunned. Still holding the child in her arms, she lowered her head in acceptance. If Mog-ur decreed it, it must be so. She knew Ayla’s totem was strong, but a Cave Lion? The thought made her apprehensive; a female with the mightiest of cats for a totem? Now Iza was sure the girl would never mate. It reinforced her decision to teach Ayla healing magic so she would have some status of her own. Creb had named her, recognized her, and revealed her totem while the medicine woman held her. If that didn’t make the girl her daughter, what did? Birth itself was no guarantee of acceptance. Iza suddenly remembered that if everything continued to go well, she would find herself standing in front of the magician again, before long, with a baby in her arms. She, who had been childless for so long, would soon have two.
The clan was in an uproar, amazement in their gestures and voices. Self-consciously, Iza returned to her place amid the astonished glances of both women and men. They tried not to stare at her and the girl—it was discourteous to stare—but one man was more than staring.
The look of hatred in Broud’s eyes as he glowered at the small girl frightened Iza. She tried to place herself between the two, to shield Ayla from the proud young man’s malevolent glare. Broud could see he wasn’t the center of attention; no one was talking about him anymore. Forgotten was his mighty deed that assured the cave was an acceptable home, forgotten was his marvelous dance and his stoic courage when Mog-ur carved his totem mark into his chest. The astringent, antiseptic ointment hurt worse than the cut—it still stung—but was anyone noticing how bravely he bore the pain?
No one was noticing him at all. The rites of passage for boys becoming men occurred with ordinary regularity, even for those destined to be leader. They didn’t compare with the wonder and unexpectedness of Mog-ur’s unprecedented revelation about the strange girl. Broud saw people recalling that she had been led to the cave first. They were saying that the ugly girl found their new home! So what if her totem is the Cave Lion, Broud thought petulantly. Did she kill the bison? This was supposed to be his night, he was supposed to be the center of attention, he was supposed to be the object of the clan’s admiration and awe, but Ayla had stolen his thunder.
He glowered at the strange girl, but when he noticed Iza running toward the camp beside the stream, his attention was drawn back to Mog-ur. Soon, very soon, he would be allowed to participate in the secret rituals with the men. He didn’t know what to expect; all he’d ever been told was that he would learn for the first time what memories really were. It was the final step that would make him a man.
Beside the fireplace near the stream, Iza quickly removed her wrap and picked up a wooden bowl and red bag of dried roots she had set out. Stopping first to fill the bowl with water, she returned to the huge bonfire, soaring to brighter heights with the additional wood