The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [58]
Creb had spent time with Ayla nearly every day since they moved into the cave, trying to teach her their language. The rudimentary words, usually the more difficult part for Clan youngsters, she picked up with ease, but their intricate system of gestures and signals was beyond her. He had tried to make her understand the meaning of gestures, but neither had a basis in each other’s method of communicating, and there was no one to interpret or explain. The old man had racked his brain, but he had not been able to think of a way to get the meanings across. Ayla was equally frustrated.
She knew there was something she was missing and she ached to be able to communicate beyond the few words she knew. It was obvious to her that the people of the clan understood more than the simple words, but she just didn’t know how. The problem was that she didn’t see the hand signals. They were random movements to her, not purposeful motions. She simply hadn’t been able to grasp the concept of talking with movement. That it was even possible had never occurred to her; it was totally beyond her realm of experience.
Creb had begun to get an inkling of her problem, though he found it hard to believe. It has to be that she doesn’t know the motions have meaning, he thought. “Ayla!” Creb called, beckoning to the girl. That must be the trouble, he thought as they walked along a path beside the glinting stream. Either that, or she just isn’t intelligent enough to comprehend a language. From his observations, he couldn’t believe she lacked intelligence, for all that she was different. But she does understand simple gestures. He had assumed it would only be a matter of enlarging on them.
Many feet starting out to hunt, forage, or fish in their direction had already beaten down grass and brush forming a path along the line of least resistance. They came to a spot the old man favored, an open stretch near a large, leafy oak whose high exposed roots offered a shaded, raised seat easier for him to rest on than lowering himself to the ground. Starting the lesson, he pointed to the tree with his staff.
“Oak,” Ayla quickly responded. Creb nodded approval, then he aimed his staff at the stream. “Water,” the girl said.
The old man nodded again, then made a motion with his hand and repeated the word. “Flowing water, river,” the combined gesture and word stated.
“Water?” the girl said hesitantly, puzzled that he had indicated her word was correct but asked her again. She was getting a feeling of panic deep in her stomach. It was the same as before, she knew there was something more he wanted, but she didn’t understand.
Creb shook his head no. He had gone over the same kind of exercises with the child many times. He tried again, pointing to her feet.
“Feet,” Ayla said.
“Yes,” the magician nodded. Somehow I must make her see as well as hear, he thought. Getting up, he took her hand and walked a few steps with her, leaving his staff behind. He made a motion and said the word “feet.” “Moving feet, walking,” was the sense he was trying to communicate. She strained to listen, trying to hear if there was something she missed in his tone.
“Feet?” the child said tremulously, sure it was not the answer he wanted.
“No, no, no! Walking! Feet moving!” he repeated again, looking directly at her, exaggerating the gesture. He moved her forward again, pointing at her feet, despairing that she would ever learn.
Ayla could feel tears begin to well up in her eyes. Feet! Feet! She knew it was the right word, why did he shake his head no? I wish he’d stop moving his hand around in front of my face like