The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [71]
“Brun, the clan that hosts the Gathering keeps a cave bear cub in their cave,” the magician reminded him.
“But that’s different, that’s Ursus. That’s for the Bear Festival. Cave bears lived in caves even before people, but rabbits don’t live in caves.”
“The cub is an animal that is brought into a cave, though.”
Brun didn’t have an answer, and Creb’s rationale seemed to offer some guidelines, but why did the girl have to bring the rabbit into the cave in the first place? If it wasn’t for her, the problem would never have come up. Brun felt the firm basis of his objections sinking under him like quicksand and he let the matter rest.
The day before the naming ceremony was cold but sunny. There had been a few flurries and Creb’s bones had been aching of late. He was sure a storm was on the way. He wanted to enjoy the last few days of clear weather before the snows began in earnest and was walking along the path beside the stream. Ayla was with him, trying out her new footwear. Iza had made them by cutting out roughly circular pieces of aurochs hide, cured with the soft underlayer of hair left on and rubbed with extra fat for waterproofing. She pierced holes around the edge in the manner of a pouch and drew them up around the girl’s ankles with the fur side in for warmth.
Ayla was pleased with them and lifted her feet high as she strutted beside the man. Her snow leopard fur covered her inner wrap, and a soft furry rabbit skin was draped over her head, fur side in, covering her ears and tied under her chin with the parts that had once served to cover the animal’s legs. She scampered ahead, then ran back and walked beside the old man, slowing her exuberant pace to match his shuffle. They were comfortably silent for a while, each involved with their own thoughts.
I wonder what I should name Iza’s baby, Creb was thinking. He loved his sibling and wanted to pick a name she would like. Not one from her mate’s side, he thought. Thinking about the man who had been Iza’s mate left a bad taste in his mouth. The cruel punishment her mate had inflicted on her made Creb angry, but his feelings went much further back. He remembered how the man had taunted him when he was a boy, calling him woman because he could never hunt. Creb guessed it was only his fear of Mog-ur’s power that stopped the ridicule. I’m glad Iza had a girl, he thought. A boy would have given him too much honor.
With the man no longer a thorn in his side, Creb enjoyed the pleasures of his hearth more than he ever thought possible. Being the patriarch of his own little family, being responsible for them, providing for them, gave him a sense of manhood he had never experienced. He detected a different kind of respect from the other men and found he had a greater interest in their hunting now that a portion of each fell to him. Before, he was more concerned about the hunt ceremonies; now he had other mouths to feed.
I’m sure Iza’s happier, too, he said to himself, thinking about the attention and affection she lavished on him, cooking for him, caring for him, anticipating his needs. In all ways but one, she was his mate, the closest he had ever come to having one. Ayla was a constant joy. The inherent differences he discovered kept him interested; training her was a challenge like that which any natural teacher felt with a bright and willing but unusual pupil. The new baby