The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [41]
Then the youngster made the gesture he had made to Nezzie the night before; he called Ayla “mother.” Ayla felt her heart beat faster. The last one who had made that sign to her was her son, and Rydag looked so much like Durc that for a moment she saw her son in him. She wanted to believe he was Durc, and she ached to pick him up and hold him in her arms, and say his name. She closed her eyes and repressed the urge to call out to him, shaking with the effort.
When she opened her eyes again, Rydag was watching her with a knowing, ancient, and yearning look, as though he understood her, and knew that she understood him. As much as she wished it, Rydag was not Durc. He was no more Durc than she was Deegie; he was himself. Under control again, she took a deep breath.
“Would you like more words? More hand signs, Rydag?” she asked.
He nodded, emphatically.
“You remember ‘mother’ from last night.…”
He answered by making the sign again that had so moved Nezzie … and her.
“Do you know this?” Ayla asked, making the greeting gesture. She could see him struggling with knowledge he almost knew. “It is greeting. It means ‘good morning,’ or ‘hello.’ This”—she demonstrated the gesture again with the variation she had used—“is when older person is speaking to younger.”
He frowned, then made the gesture, then smiled at her with his startling grin. He made both signs, then thought again and made a third, and looked at her quizzically, not sure if he had really done anything.
“Yes, that is right, Rydag! I am woman, like mother, and that is way to greet mother. You do remember!”
Nezzie noticed Ayla and the boy together. He had caused her great distress a few times when he forgot himself and tried to do too much, so she was always aware of the child’s location and activities. She was drawn toward the younger woman and the child, trying to observe and understand what they were doing. Ayla saw her, noted her expression of curiosity and concern, and called her over.
“I am showing Rydag language of Clan—mother’s people,” Ayla explained, “like word last night.”
Rydag, with a big grin that showed his larger than usual teeth, made a deliberate gesture to Nezzie.
“What does that mean?” she asked, looking at Ayla.
“Rydag say, ‘Good morning, Mother,’ ” the young woman explained.
“Good morning, Mother?” Nezzie made a motion that vaguely resembled the deliberate gesture Rydag had made. “That means Good morning, Mother?”
“No. Sit here. I will show you. This”—Ayla made the sign—“means Good morning’ and this way”—she made the variation—“means Good morning, Mother. He might make same sign to me. That would mean ‘motherly woman.’ You would make this way”—Ayla made another variation of the hand sign—“to say, Good morning, child.’ And this”—Ayla continued with still another variation—“to say Good morning, my son.’ You see?”
Ayla went through all the variations again as Nezzie watched carefully. The woman, feeling a bit self-conscious, tried again. Though the signal lacked finesse, it was clear to both Ayla and Rydag that the gesture she was trying to make meant “Good morning, my son.”
The boy, who was standing at her shoulder, reached thin arms around her neck. Nezzie hugged him, blinking hard to hold back a flood that threatened, and even Rydag’s eyes were wet, which surprised Ayla.
Of all the members of Brun’s clan, only her eyes had teared with emotion, though their feelings were just as strong. Her son could vocalize the same as she could; he was capable of full speech—her heart still ached when she remembered how he had called out after her when she was forced to leave—but Durc could shed no tears to express his sorrow. Like his Clan mother, Rydag could not speak, but when his eyes filled with love, they glistened with tears.
“I have never been able to talk to him before—that I knew for sure he understood,” Nezzie said.
“Would you like more signs?” Ayla asked, gently.
The woman nodded, still holding