The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [209]
I knew she would notice, Mamut thought, when he saw her frown. I have barely begun to feel the difference, and she has recognized it already. I knew she was gifted, but her abilities still astound me, and I’m sure I have not yet discovered her full range. I may never know; her potential could be far greater than mine. What did she say about that root, and the ceremony with the mog-urs? I’d like to get her prepared … the hunting ceremony with the Clan! It changed me, the effects were profound. It lives with me still. She, too, had an experience … could that have changed her? Enhanced her natural tendencies? I wonder … the Spring Festival, is it too soon to bring up the root again? Maybe I should wait until after she works with me on the Back Breaking Celebration … or the next one … there will be many between now and spring.…
Deegie walked down the passageway toward the Mammoth Hearth carrying heavy outer wear.
“I was hoping I would find you, Ayla. I want to check those snares I set to see if I caught any white foxes to trim Branag’s parka. Do you want to come with me?”
Ayla, just waking up, looked up at the partially uncovered smoke hole. “It does look nice out. Let me get dressed.”
She pulled back the covers, sat up, stretched and yawned, then went to the curtained-off area near the horse annex. On her way, she passed by a platform bed on which a half-dozen children were sleeping, sprawled on top of each other in a heap, like a litter of wolf pups. She saw Rydag’s large brown eyes open, and smiled at him. He closed them again, and snuggled down between the youngest, Nuvie, almost four years, and Rugie, who was approaching eight. Crisavec, Brinan, and Tusie were also in the pile, and lately, she had seen Fralie’s youngest, Tasher, who was not yet three, beginning to take notice of the other youngsters. Latie, verging on womanhood, Ayla noticed, played with them less and less.
The children were benevolently spoiled. They could eat and sleep where and when they wanted. They seldom observed the territorial customs of their elders; the entire lodge was theirs. They could demand the attention of adult members of the Camp, and often found it was welcomed as an interesting diversion; no one was in any particular hurry or had anyplace to go. Wherever their interests led the children, an older member of the group was ready to assist or explain. If they wanted to sew skins together, they were given the tools, and scraps of leather, and strings of sinew. If they wanted to make stone tools, they were given pieces of flint, and stone or bone hammers.
They wrestled and tumbled, and invented games, which were often versions of adult activities. They made their own small hearths, and learned to use fire. They pretended to hunt, spearing pieces of meat from the cold storage chambers, and cooked it. When playing “hearths” extended to mimicking the copulating activities of their elders, the adults smiled indulgently. No part of normal living was singled out as something to be hidden or repressed; all of it was necessary instruction to becoming an adult. The only taboo was violence, particularly extreme or unnecessary violence.
Living so closely together, they had learned that nothing could destroy a Camp, or a people, like violence, particularly when they were confined to the earthlodge during the long, cold winters. Whether by accident or design, every custom, manner, convention, or practice, even if not overtly directed at it, was aimed at keeping violence to a minimum. Sanctioned conduct allowed a wide range of individual differences in activities that did not, as a rule, lead to violence, or that might be acceptable outlets for draining off strong emotions. Personal skills were fostered. Tolerance was encouraged; jealousy or envy, while understood, was discouraged. Competitions, including arguments, were actively used as alternatives, but were ritualized, strictly controlled, and kept within defined boundaries. The children