The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [305]
“You have bruises and scrapes all over, but I don’t think anything is broken,” Marthona said.
“How long have I been here?”
“More than a day. You got here yesterday, late in the afternoon. The sun went down not long ago.”
“How long was I gone?” Ayla asked.
“I don’t know when you went into the cave, but from the time you left here until you got back, it was more than three days, almost four.”
Ayla nodded. “I have no sense of the time that passed at all. I remember parts, some very clearly. It feels like something I dreamed, but different.”
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Marthona asked.
“I’m thirsty,” Ayla said, then felt an overwhelming dryness, as though the saying of it made her realize how dehydrated she was. “Very thirsty.”
Marthona left and came back with a waterbag and a cup to drink from. “Do you want to sit up, or should I just prop up your head?”
“I’d rather try to sit up.”
She rolled on her side, trying to muffle her groans, then got up on one elbow, breaking through a scab that had been forming over a bad scrape, and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed platform. She felt a moment of dizziness, but it passed. She was more surprised at how much she hurt inside. Marthona poured water in the cup and Ayla took it in both hands. She drank it down without stopping, then held it out for more. She seemed to remember gulping down water from a waterbag when she first came into the light. She finished the second cup only a little more slowly.
“Are you hungry yet? You haven’t had anything to eat,” Marthona said.
“My stomach hurts,” Ayla said.
“I imagine it does,” Marthona said, looking away.
Ayla frowned. “Why should my stomach hurt?”
“You’re bleeding, Ayla. You probably have cramps, and more.”
“Bleeding? How can I be bleeding? I’ve missed three moontimes, I’m pregnant … Oh, no!” Ayla cried. “I’ve lost the baby, haven’t I?”
“I think so, Ayla. I’m not expert in those things, but every woman knows you can’t be pregnant and bleed at the same time, at least not as much as you have. You were bleeding when you came out, and a lot since then. I think it may take a while for you to regain your strength. I’m sorry, Ayla. I know you wanted this baby,” Marthona said.
“The Mother wanted her more,” Ayla said in a dry monotone of grief-stricken shock. She lay back down and stared up at the underside of the limestone overhang. She didn’t even realize when she fell asleep again.
The next time she woke, Ayla had a strong urge to pass water. It was obviously nighttime, dark, but several lamps were burning. She looked around and saw Marthona asleep on some cushions beside the bed platform. Wolf was beside the old woman with his head up, looking at her. He’s got two of us to worry and watch over now, she thought. She rolled to her side and pulled herself up again, sitting on the bed platform for a while before she tried to get up. She was stiff, and still sore and achy, but she felt stronger. Carefully, she eased herself to her feet. Wolf stood up, too. She signaled him down again, then took a step toward the night basket near the entrance.
She wished she had thought to take some changes of absorbent padding with her. She had been bleeding quite heavily. As she started back to her sleeping place, Marthona approached, bringing her a change.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ayla said.
“You didn’t. Wolf did, but you should have. Would you like some water? I also have some stew, if you’re ready to eat,” Marthona said.
“Water would be nice, and maybe a little stew,” Ayla said, returning to the night basket to change to clean padding. Movement had eased her soreness.
“Where do you want to eat? In bed?” the woman asked as she limped to the cooking area. She, too, was stiff and sore. Her sleeping place and position had not been good for her arthritis.
“No, I’d rather sit at the table.” Ayla went into the cooking area and poured