The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [348]
“Is it all right if I sit down here with you, Rydag?” she asked.
He shrugged an assent. She sat beside him and asked how he felt, speaking aloud to him, but automatically signing the words, too, until she realized it was probably too dark to see. It struck her then, the real advantage to being able to speak with words. It wasn’t that you couldn’t speak as well with signals and hand signs, it was that you weren’t limited by only what you could see.
It was like the difference between thrusting with a spear when hunting, like the Clan did, or throwing it. Both were effective weapons for bringing meat home, but one had greater range and possibilities. She had seen how useful motions and signs, which were not understood by everyone, could be, particularly for secret or private communication, but overall, there was a greater advantage in speaking with words that could be heard and understood. With a full verbal language, you could speak to someone who was behind a barrier, or in a different room, or even shout across a distance, or to a large group. You could speak when someone’s back was turned, or when you were holding something, which freed the hands for other purposes, and you could speak softly in the dark.
Ayla sat quietly with the boy for some time, not asking questions, just offering closeness and company. After a while, she started talking to him, telling Rydag about the time she lived with the Clan.
“In some ways, this Meeting reminds me of the Clan Gathering,” Ayla said. “Here, even if I look the same as everyone, I feel different. There, I was different … taller than any of the men by then … just a big ugly woman. It was awful when we first got there. They almost weren’t going to let Brun’s clan stay because they brought me. They said I wasn’t Clan, but Creb insisted that I was. He was the Mog-ur, and they didn’t dare dispute him. It’s a good thing Durc was only a baby. When they saw him, they thought he was deformed, and they all stared. You know how it feels. But he wasn’t deformed. He was just a mixture, like you are. Or maybe you are more like Ura. Her mother was Clan.”
“You say before, Ura will join with Durc?” Rydag asked, turning toward the light from the fire to make his motions seen. He was intrigued in spite of himself.
“Yes. Her mother came to me, and it was arranged. She was so relieved to know there was another child, a boy, like her daughter. She was so afraid Ura would never find a mate. To be honest, I didn’t think about it much. I was just grateful that Durc was accepted into the Clan.”
“Durc is Clan? He is mixed, but Clan?” the boy signed.
“Yes, Brun accepted him, Creb named him. Not even Broud can take that away from him. And everyone loves him—except Broud—even Oga, Broud’s mate. She nursed him, when I lost my milk, right along with her son, Grev. They grew up together like brothers, and they are good friends. Old Grod made Durc a little spear, just his size.” Ayla smiled at the memory. “Uba loves him best, though. Uba is my sister, like you and Rugie. She is Durc’s mother now. I gave him to Uba when Broud made me leave. He may look a little different, but yes, Durc is Clan.”
“I hate it here,” Rydag motioned with vehement anger. “I wish I am Durc and live with Clan.”
Rydag’s comment startled Ayla. Even after they talked more, and she finally convinced him to eat something, and then tucked him into his bed, it stayed on her mind.
Ranec watched Ayla all evening. He noticed how she would stop in the middle of some activity, like lifting a bite of food to her mouth, for example, while her eyes glazed over with a faraway look, or a frown of concentration creased her forehead. He knew her thoughts were weighing heavily on her mind, and he wanted so much to comfort her, share them with her.
Everyone stayed at Cattail Camp that night, and the tent was crowded. Ranec waited until