She sat quietly, staring at the shell-shaped stone in her hand, and tried to meditate as she had seen Creb do. She knew she was considered unusual because she had a Cave Lion totem, but she never thought much about it before. She reached under her wrap and felt the scars of the four parallel lines on her leg. Why would a Cave Lion choose me, anyway? He’s a powerful totem, a male totem, why would he pick a girl? There must be some reason. She thought about the sling and learning to use it. Why did I pick up that old sling that Broud threw away? None of the women would have touched it. What would make me do it? Did my totem want me to? Does he want me to learn to hunt? Only men hunt, but my totem is a male totem. Of course! That must be it! I have a strong totem and he wants me to hunt.
“O Great Cave Lion, the ways of the spirits are strange to me. I don’t know why you want me to hunt, but I am happy you gave me this sign.” Ayla turned the stone over in her hand again, then she took the amulet from around her neck, pried loose the knot that held the small pouch closed, and put the fossil cast into the leather bag beside the piece of red ochre. Tying it tightly again, she slipped it back over her head and noticed the difference in weight. It seemed to add weight to her totem’s sanction of her decision.
Her guilt was gone. She was supposed to hunt; her totem wanted her to. It didn’t matter if she was female. I’m like Durc, she thought. He left his clan even though everyone said it was wrong. I think he did find a better place where Ice Mountain couldn’t reach him. I think he started a whole new clan. He must have had a strong totem, too. Creb says strong totems are hard to live with. He says they test you to make sure you are worthy before they give you something. He says that’s why I almost died before Iza found me. I wonder if Durc’s totem tested him. Will my Cave Lion test me again?
A test can be hard, though. What if I’m not worthy? How will I know if I’m being tested? What hard thing will my totem make me do? Ayla thought about what was hard in her life and it suddenly came to her.
“Broud! Broud is my test!” she gestured to herself. What could be harder than having to face a whole winter with Broud? But if I’m worthy, if I can do it, my totem will let me hunt.
There was a difference in the way Ayla walked when she returned to the cave, and Iza noticed it, though she couldn’t quite say what was different about it. It wasn’t less proper, it just seemed easier, not as tense, and there was a look of acceptance on the girl’s face when she saw Broud approaching. Not resignation, just acceptance. But it was Creb who noticed the extra bulge in her amulet.
As the winter closed in, they were both glad to see her return to normal, despite Broud’s demands. Though she was often tired, when she played with Uba her smiles were back, if not her laughter. Creb guessed she had come to some decision and found a sign from her totem, and her easier acceptance of her place in the clan gave him a feeling of relief. He was aware of her inward struggle, but he knew it was not only necessary to bend to Broud’s will, she had to stop fighting it. She had to learn self-control, too.
During the winter that began her eighth year, Ayla became a woman. Not physically; her body still had the straight, undeveloped lines of a girl, without the least hint of the changes to come. But it was during that long cold season that Ayla put her childhood aside.
At times her life was so unbearable, she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to continue. Some mornings, when she opened her eyes to the familiar rough texture of the bare rock wall above her, she wished she could go back to sleep and never wake up. But when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, she clutched her amulet, and the feel of the extra stone somehow gave her the patience to endure another day. And each day lived through brought her just that much closer to the time when the deep snows and icy blasts would change to green grass and sea breezes, and she could roam the fields and forests in freedom again.
Like the woolly rhinoceros, whose spirit he called his totem, Broud could be as stubborn as he could be unpredictably vicious. Characteristic of the Clan, once he settled on a particular course of action, he persisted with unswerving dedication, and Broud dedicated himself to keeping Ayla in line. Her daily ordeal of clouts and curses and constant harassment was obvious to the rest of the clan. Many felt she did deserve some discipline and punishment, but few approved of the lengths to which Broud went.
Brun was still concerned that Broud was letting the girl provoke him too much, but since the young man controlled his fury, the leader felt it was a definite improvement. But Brun hoped to see the son of his mate pursue a more moderate approach on his own and decided to let the situation run its course. As the winter wore on, he began to develop a certain grudging respect for the strange girl, the same kind of respect he had felt for his sibling when she had endured the beatings of her mate.
Like Iza, Ayla was setting an example of womanly behavior. She endured, without complaint, as a woman should. When she paused momentarily to clutch her amulet, Brun, and many of the others, took it as an indication of her reverence for the spiritual forces so fearfully important to the Clan. It added to her feminine stature.
The amulet did give her something to believe in; she did revere the spiritual forces, as she understood them. Her totem was testing her. If she proved worthy, she could learn to hunt. The more Broud badgered her, the more determined she became that she would begin to teach herself when spring came. She was going to be better than Broud, better even than Zoug. She was going to be the best sling-hunter in the clan, though no one would know it but her. That was the thought she clung to. It solidified in her mind, like the long tapering shafts of ice that formed at the top of the entrance to the cave where warm air from the fires rose to meet the freezing temperatures outside, and grew, like the heavy translucent curtains of ice, all through the winter.
Though it wasn’t intentional, she was already training herself. Despite the fact that it brought her into closer contact with Broud, she found herself interested and drawn to the men when they sat together spending long days rehashing earlier hunts or discussing strategy for future ones. She found ways to work near them and especially liked it when Dorv or Zoug told tales of hunting with the sling. She revived her interest in Zoug and her feminine response to his wishes, and developed a genuine affection for the old hunter. He was like Creb in a way, proud and stern, and glad for a little attention and warmth, if only from a strange, ugly girl.
Zoug was not blind to her interest as he recounted past glories when he was second-in-command as Grod was now. She was an appreciative, if silent, audience and always demurely respectful. Zoug began to seek Vorn out to explain some technique of tracking or bit of hunting lore knowing the girl would find a way to sit nearby if she could, though he affected not to notice. If she enjoyed his tales, what harm could there be in that?
If I were younger, Zoug thought, and still a provider, I might take her as a mate, when she becomes a woman. She’ll need a mate someday, and ugly as she is, she’s going to have some trouble finding one. But she is young, and strong, and respectful. I have kin in other clans. If I’m strong enough to go to the next Clan Gathering, I’ll speak for her. She may not want to stay here after Broud becomes leader, not that it matters what she wants, but I wouldn’t blame her. I hope I will be gone to the next world before that happens. Zoug never forgot Broud’s attack on him and didn’t like the son of Brun’s mate. He thought the future leader was unreasonably hard on the girl for whom he had developed an affection. She did deserve to be disciplined, but there were limits and Broud went beyond them. She was never disrespectful to him; it took an older, wiser man to know how to handle women. Yes, I will speak for her. If I can’t go, I’ll send a message. If only she weren’t so ugly, he mused.
As difficult as it was for Ayla, it wasn’t all bad. Activities were at a slower pace and there were fewer chores to do. Even Broud could find only so many tasks before there were none left. As time went along, he got a little bored; there wasn’t any fight in her anymore, and the intensity of his harassment slackened. And there
was another reason that Ayla began to find the winter more bearable.
At first, in an effort to find valid reasons for her to stay within the boundaries of Creb’s fire, Iza decided to begin training her in the preparation and application of the herbs and plants Ayla had been gathering. Ayla found herself fascinated with the art of healing. The girl’s avid interest soon involved Iza in a regular program and made the medicine woman think she should have begun sooner, as she became fully aware of just how differently her adopted daughter’s mind worked.
If Ayla had been her true child, Iza would only have had to remind her of what was already stored in her brain, to get her accustomed to using it. But Ayla struggled to memorize knowledge Uba was born with, and Ayla’s conscious memory wasn’t as good. Iza had to drill her, go over the same material many times, and constantly test her to make sure she had it right. Iza pulled information from her memories as well as her own experience and was surprised, herself, at the wealth of knowledge she had. She’d never had to think about it before; it was just there when she needed it. Sometimes Iza despaired of ever teaching Ayla what she knew, or even enough to make her an adequate medicine woman. But Ayla’s interest never flagged and Iza was determined to give her adopted daughter an assured status in the clan. The lessons went on daily.
“What is good for burns, Ayla?”
“Let me think. Hyssop flowers mixed with goldenrod flowers and cone flowers, dried and powdered together in equal parts. Wet it and make it into a poultice, cover with a bandage. When it dries, wet it again with cold water poured on the bandage,” she finished in a rush, then paused to think. “And dried horsemint flowers and leaves are good for scalds; wet them in the hand and put them on the burn. Boiled roots of sweet rush make a wash for burns.”
“Good, anything else?”
The girl searched her mind. “Giant hyssop, too. Chew the fresh leaves and stalk for a poultice, or wet the dried leaves. And … oh, yes, boiled yellow-spined thistle blossoms. Put on as a wash after it’s cooled.”
“That’s good for skin sores, too, Ayla. And don’t forget that horsetail-fern ashes mixed with fat make a good burn ointment.”
Ayla began to do more of the cooking, too, under Iza’s direction. She soon took over the chore of preparing most of Creb’s meals, except, for her, it wasn’t a chore. She took pains to grind his grains especially fine before they were cooked to make it easier for him to chew with his worn teeth. Nuts, too, were chopped fine before she served them to the old man. Iza taught her to prepare the painkilling drinks and poultices that eased his rheumatism, and Ayla made a specialty of the remedies for that affliction of the older members of the clan, whose suffering invariably worsened with their confinement to the cold stone cave. That winter was the first time Ayla assisted the medicine woman, and their first patient was Creb.
It was midwinter. The heavy snowfalls had blocked the mouth of the cave several feet up. The insulating blanket of snow helped to keep the warmth from fires inside the large cavern, but the wind still whistled in through the large opening above the snow. Creb was unusually moody, vacillating from silence to grouchiness to apologetic repentance to silence again. His behavior confused Ayla, but Iza guessed the reason. Creb had a toothache, a particularly painful toothache.
“Creb, won’t you just let me look at the tooth?” Iza pleaded.
“It’s nothing. Just a toothache. Just a little pain. Don’t you think I can stand a little pain? Don’t you think I’ve had pain before, woman? What’s a little toothache?” Creb snapped.
“Yes, Creb,” Iza replied, head bowed. He was immediately contrite.
“Iza, I know you’re only trying to help.”
“If you’d let me look at it, I might be able to give you something for it. How can I know what to give you if you won’t let me see it?”
“What’s to see?” he motioned. “One bad tooth is the same as another. Just make me some willow-bark tea,” Creb grumbled, then sat on his sleeping fur gazing into space.
Iza shook her head and went to make the tea.
“Woman!” Creb shouted shortly afterward. “Where’s that willow bark? What’s taking you so long? How can I meditate? I can’t concentrate,” he gestured impatiently.
Iza hurried over with a bone cup, signaling Ayla to follow. “I was just bringing it, but I don’t think willow bark is going to be much help, Creb. Just let me look at it.”
“All right. All right, Iza. Look.” He opened his mouth and pointed at the offending tooth.
“See how deep the black hole goes, Ayla? The gum is swelling, it’s decayed through. I’m afraid it will have to come out, Creb.”
“Come out! You told me you just wanted to look so you could give me something for it. You didn’t say anything about taking it out. Well, give me something for it, woman!”
“Yes, Creb,” Iza said. “Here’s your willow-bark tea.” Ayla watched the exchange with amazement.
“I thought you said willow bark wouldn’t help much?”
“Nothing will help much. You can try a piece of sweet-rush root to chew, it might do some good. But I doubt it.”
“Some medicine woman! Can’t even cure a toothache,” Creb grumbled.
“I could try burning out the pain,” Iza motioned matter-of-factly.
Creb flinched. “I’ll take the root,” he replied.
The next morning Creb’s face was swollen and puffy, making his one-eyed scarred face more fearsome. His eye was red from lack of sleep. “Iza,” he moaned. “Can’t you do something for this toothache?”
“If you had let me take it out yesterday, the pain would be gone by now,” Iza motioned and went back to stirring a bowl of parched, ground grain, watching bubbles slowly rising with a gentle pukkah, pukkah, pukkah.
“Woman! Have you no feelings? I haven’t slept all night!”
“I know. You kept me awake.”
“Well, do something!” he exploded.
“Yes, Creb,” Iza said. “But, I can’t take it out now until the swelling goes down.”
“Is that all you can think of? Taking it out?”
“I can try one more thing, Creb, but I don’t think I can save the tooth,” she gestured sympathetically. “Ayla, bring me that packet with the splinters of charred wood from the tree that was struck by lightning last summer. We’ll have to lance the gum to reduce the swelling now, before we can get the tooth out anyway. We might as well see if we can burn out the pain.”
Creb shuddered at the instructions the medicine woman gave the girl, then he shrugged. It can’t be much worse than the toothache, he thought.
Iza sorted through the packet of splinters and withdrew two. “Ayla, I want you to get the tip of this one red hot. The end should be like a coal, but still strong enough so it won’t break off. Rake a coal out of the fire and hold the tip next to it until it smolders. But first, I want you to watch how to lance the gum. Hold his lips back for me.”
Ayla did as she was instructed and looked into Creb’s huge open mouth and at the two rows of large worn teeth.
“We puncture the gum with a hard sharp splinter beneath the tooth until the blood flows,” Iza gestured, then demonstrated.
Creb’s hand was clenched into a fist, but he made no sound. “Now, while this is draining, get the other splinter hot.”
Ayla quickly ran to the fire and soon returned with a smoldering ember on the end of the charred splinter. Iza took it, looked at it critically, nodded her head, and motioned to Ayla to hold back his lips again. She inserted the hot point into the cavity. Ayla felt Creb jerk as she heard a sizzle and watched a thin wisp of steam rise out of the large hole in Creb’s tooth.
“There, it’s done. Now we wait to see if that will kill the pain. If not, the tooth will have to come out,” Iza said after she swabbed the wound on Creb’s gum with a mixture of geranium and spikenard-root powders on the tip of her finger.
“It’s too bad I don’t have any of the fungus that is so good for toothaches. Sometimes it will deade
n the nerve, often draw it out. Then I might not have to take the tooth. It’s best to use when it’s fresh, but dried works, and it should be collected at the end of summer. If I find some next year, I’ll show you, Ayla.”
“Does your tooth still ache?” Iza asked the next day.
“It’s better, Iza,” Creb answered hopefully.
“But does it still hurt? If the pain isn’t completely gone, it will just swell up again, Creb,” Iza insisted.
“Well … yes, it still aches,” he admitted, “but not as much. Really, not as much. Why not wait another day or so? I have cast a powerful spell. I have asked Ursus to destroy the bad spirit that is causing the pain.”
“Haven’t you already asked Ursus many times to rid you of that pain? I think Ursus wants you to sacrifice your tooth before he will make the pain stop, Mog-ur,” Iza said.
“What do you know of the Great Ursus, woman?” Creb demanded irritably.
“This woman was presumptuous. This woman knows nothing of the ways of the spirits,” Iza replied with bowed head. Then, looking up at her sibling: “But a medicine woman knows about toothaches. The pain will not stop until the tooth comes out,” she motioned firmly.
Creb turned his back and limped away. He sat on his sleeping fur with his eye closed.
“Iza?” he called out after a while.
“Yes, Creb?”
“You are right. Ursus wants me to give up the tooth. Go ahead. Get it over with.”
Iza walked over to him. “Here, Creb, drink this. It will make the pain less. Ayla, there is a small peg near the packet of splinters and a long piece of sinew. Bring them here.”
“How did you know to have the drink ready?” Creb asked.
“I know Mog-ur. It is hard to give up a tooth, but if Ursus wants it, Mog-ur will give it. It is not the hardest sacrifice he has made to Ursus. A powerful totem is difficult to live with, but Ursus would not have chosen you if you were not worthy.”
Creb nodded and swallowed the drink. It’s from the same plant I use to help men with the memories, he thought. But I think I saw Iza boil it; she makes a decoction rather than an infusion. It’s stronger than when it’s steeped. It has many uses. Datura must be a gift from Ursus. He was beginning to feel the narcotic effects.