The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [60]
The clan was inside the cave, gathered around their family fires after the evening meal. The sun had sunk below the horizon and the last dim afterglow outlined the leafy silhouettes of dark foliage rustling in the gentle night breeze. The fire at the mouth of the cave, lit to fend off evil spirits, curious predators, and the damp night air, sent up wisps of smoke and shimmering heat waves, making the shadowed black trees and brush beyond undulate to the silent rhythm of the flickering flames. Its light danced with shadows on the rough rock wall of the cave.
Ayla sat within the stones that outlined Creb’s territory staring across at Brun’s household. Broud was upset and taking it out on his mother and Oga by exercising his prerogatives as an adult male. The day had started out badly for Broud and got worse. Long hours spent tracking and stalking were wasted when he missed his shot, and the red fox, whose pelt he had grandly promised to Oga, melted into the dense brush only warned by the swiftly slung stone. Oga’s looks of understanding forgiveness just hurt his wounded pride more; he was the one who should be forgiving of her inadequacies, not the other way around.
The women, tired from a busy day, were trying to finish their last chores, and Ebra, exasperated by his constant interruptions, made a slight signal to Brun. The leader had been more than aware of the young man’s imperious, demanding behavior. It was Broud’s right, but Brun felt he should be more sensitive to them. It wasn’t necessary to make them run for everything when they were already so busy and tired.
“Broud, let the women alone. They have enough to do,” Brun signaled in silent reprimand. The rebuke was too much, especially in front of Oga, and from Brun. Broud stomped off to the far edge of the territory of Brun’s hearth near the boundary stones to sulk and caught sight of Ayla staring directly at him. It didn’t matter that Ayla had barely caught the drift of the subtle domestic squabble within the confines of the adjacent household; as far as Broud was concerned, the ugly little interloper had seen him scolded just like a child. It was the final crushing blow to his tender ego. She doesn’t even have the courtesy to look away, he thought. Well, she’s not the only one who can ignore simple politeness. All the day’s frustrations overflowed, and flaunting conventions on purpose, Broud directed a malevolent glare across the boundaries at the girl he detested.
Creb was conscious of the mild spat at Brun’s hearth, just as he was aware of all the people in the cave. Most of the time, like background noise, it was filtered out of his consciousness, but anything that involved Ayla sharpened his attention. He knew it had taken deliberate effort and supremely malignant intent for Broud to overcome the conditioning of his entire life and stare directly into the confines of another man’s hearth. Broud feels too much animosity toward the child, Creb thought. For her sake, it is time to teach her some manners.
“Ayla!” Creb commanded sharply. She jumped at the tone in his voice. “Not look other people!” he signaled. She was puzzled.
“Why not look?” she queried.
“Not look, not stare; people not like,” he tried to explain, aware that Broud was watching out of the corner of his eye, not even bothering to hide his gloating pleasure at the strong scolding the girl was receiving from Mog-ur. She is favored too much by the magician anyway, Broud thought. If she lived here, I’d show her soon enough how a female is supposed to behave.
“Want learn talk,” Ayla motioned, still puzzled and a little hurt.
Creb knew full well why she had been watching, but she had to learn sometime. Perhaps it would ease Broud’s hatred of her if he saw she was being rebuked for staring at them.
“Ayla not stare,” Creb motioned with a severe look. “Bad. Ayla not talk back when man talks. Bad. Ayla not look at people at their hearths.