The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [486]
I wonder why no one else ever liked to swim, she mused. They thought I was strange because I liked to go so far out … until the time Ona almost drowned.
She remembered everyone had been grateful to her for saving the child’s life. Brun even helped her out of the water. She had felt a warm sense of acceptance then, as though she really belonged. Legs that were long and straight, a body too thin and too tall, blond hair and blue eyes and a high forehead hadn’t mattered. Some of the clan tried to learn to swim after that, but they didn’t float well and had a fear of deep water.
I wonder if Durc could learn? He never was as heavy as anyone else’s baby, and he’ll never be as muscular as most men. I think he could.…
Who would teach him? I won’t be there, and Uba can’t. She will take care of him; she loves him as much as I do, but she can’t swim. Neither can Brun. Brun will teach him to hunt, though, and he’ll protect Durc. He won’t let Broud hurt my son, he promised—even if he wasn’t supposed to see me. Brun was a good leader, not like Broud.…
Could Broud have started Durc growing inside me? Ayla shuddered, remembering how Broud had forced her. Iza said men did that to women they liked, but Broud only did it because he knew how much I hated it. Everyone says it’s the spirits of totems that make babies start. But none of the men have a totem strong enough to defeat my Cave Lion. I didn’t get pregnant until after Broud kept forcing me, and everyone was surprised. No one thought I’d ever have a baby.…
I wish I could see him when he grows up. He’s already tall for his age, like I am. He’ll be the tallest man in the clan, I’m sure of that.…
No I’m not! I’ll never know. I’ll never see Durc again.
Stop thinking about him, she commanded herself, wiping a tear away. She got up and walked to the edge of the river. It doesn’t do any good to think about him. And it doesn’t get me across this river!
She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice the forked log drifting close to the bank. She stared with detached awareness as the outstretched limbs of the fallen tree snared it in its tangled branches, and watched, without seeing, the log bumping and straining to break loose for long moments. But as soon as she saw it, she also saw its possibilities.
She waded into the shoal and dragged the log onto the beach. It was the top portion of the trunk of a good-size tree, freshly broken by violent flooding farther upriver, and not too waterlogged. With a flint hand-axe, which she carried in a fold of her leather wrap, she hacked off the longer of the two forking branches fairly even with the other one, and trimmed away obstructing limbs, leaving two rather long stubs.
After a quick look around, she headed for a clump of birch trees draped with clematis vines. Tugging on a fresh woody vine loosened a long tough strand. She walked back pulling off the leaves. Then she spread her hide tent out on the ground and dumped out the contents of her carrying basket. It was time to take stock and repack.
She put her fur leggings and hand coverings in the bottom of the basket along with the fur-lined wrap now that she wore her summer wrap; she wouldn’t need them until next winter. She paused for a moment wondering where she would be next winter, but she did not care to dwell on that. She paused again when she picked up the soft supple leather cloak she had used to help support Durc on her hip when she carried him.
She didn’t need it; it was not necessary for her survival. She had only brought it with her because it was something that had been close to him. She held it to her cheek, then carefully folded it and put it in the basket. On top of it she put the soft, absorbent leather straps she took along to use during her menstrual flow. Next her extra pair of foot coverings went in. She went barefoot now, but still wore a pair when it was wet or cold, and they were wearing out. She was glad she had brought a second pair.
She checked her food next. There was one birchbark packet of maple sugar left.