The Mammoth Hunters (Earth's Children 3)

“Do not have concern, Nezzie,” Ayla said, blinking to hold back tears. “I know questions come when I speak of son. It … pains … to think of Durc.”

“You don’t have to talk about him.”

“Sometime must talk about Durc.” Ayla paused, then plunged in. “Durc is with Clan. When she die, Iza … my mother, like you with Rydag … say I go north, find my people. Not Clan, the Others. Durc is baby then. I do not go. Later, Durc is three years, Broud make me go. I not know where Others live, I not know where I will go, I cannot take Durc. I give to Uba … sister. She love Durc, take care of him. Her son now.”

Ayla stopped, but Nezzie didn’t know what to say. She would have liked to ask more questions, but didn’t want to press when it was obviously such an ordeal for the young woman to speak of a son, whom she loved but had to leave behind. Ayla continued of her own accord.

“Three years since I see Durc. He is … six years now. Like Rydag?”

Nezzie nodded. “It is not yet seven years since Rydag was born.”

Ayla paused, seemed to be deep in thought. Then she continued. “Durc is like Rydag, but not. Durc is like Clan in eyes, like me in mouth.” She smiled wryly. “Should be other way. Durc make words, Durc could speak, but Clan does not. Better if Rydag speak, but he cannot. Durc is strong.” Ayla’s eyes took on a faraway look. “He run fast. He is best runner, some day racer, like Jondalar say.” Her eyes filled with sadness when she looked up at Nezzie. “Rydag weak. From birth. Weak in …?” She put her hand to her chest, she didn’t know the word.

“He has trouble breathing sometimes,” Nezzie said.

“Trouble is not breathing. Trouble is blood … no … not blood … da-dump,” she said, holding a fist to her chest. She was frustrated at not knowing the word.

“The heart. That’s what Mamut says. He has a weak heart. How did you know that?”

“Iza was medicine woman, healer. Best medicine woman of Clan. She teach me like daughter. I am medicine woman.”

Jondalar had said Ayla was a Healer, Nezzie recalled. She was surprised to learn that flatheads even thought about healing, but then she hadn’t known they could talk either. And she had been around Rydag enough to know that even without full speech he was not the stapid animal that so many people believed. Even if she wasn’t a Mamut, there was no reason Ayla couldn’t know something about healing.

The two women looked up as a shadow fell across them. “Mamut wants to know if you would come and talk to him, Ayla,” Danug said. Both of them had been so engrossed in conversation neither one had noticed the tall young man approaching. “Rydag is so excited with the new hand game you showed him,” he continued. “Latie says he wants me to ask if you will teach me some of the signs, too.”

“Yes. Yes. I teach you. I teach anyone.”

“I want to learn more of your hand words, too,” Nezzie said, as they both got up.

“In morning?” Ayla asked.

“Yes, tomorrow morning. But you haven’t had anything to eat yet. Maybe tomorrow it would be better to have something to eat first,” Nezzie said. “Come with me and I’ll get you something, and for Mamut, too.”

“I am hungry,” Ayla said.

“So am I,” Danug added.

“When aren’t you hungry? Between you and Talut, I think you could eat a mammoth,” Nezzie said with pride in her eyes for her great strapping son.

As the two women and Danug headed toward the earthlodge, the others seemed to take it as a cue to stop for a meal and followed them in. Outer clothes were removed in the entrance foyer and hung on pegs. It was a casual, everyday, morning meal with some people cooking at their own hearths and others gathering at the large first hearth that held the primary fireplace and several small ones. Some people ate cold leftover mammoth, others had meat or fish cooked with roots or greens in a soup thickened with roughly ground wild grains plucked from the grasses of the steppes. But whether they cooked at their own place or not, most people eventually wandered to the communal area to visit while they drank a hot tea before going outside again.

Ayla was sitting beside Mamut watching the activities with great interest. The level of noise of so many people talking and laughing together still surprised her, but she was becoming more accustomed to it. She was even more surprised at the ease with which the women moved among the men. There was no strict hierarchy, no order to the cooking or serving of food. They all seemed to serve themselves, except for the women and men who helped the youngest children.

Jondalar came over to them and lowered himself carefully to the grass mat beside Ayla while he balanced with both hands a watertight but handleless and somewhat flexible cup, woven out of bear grass in a chevron design of contrasting colors, filled with hot mint tea.

“You up early in morning,” Ayla said.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You were sleeping so soundly.”

“I wake when I think someone hurt, but Deegie tell me old woman … Crozie … always talk loud with Frebec.”

“They were arguing so loud, I even heard them outside,” Jondalar said. “Frebec may be a troublemaker, but I’m not so sure I blame him. That old woman squawks worse than a jay. How can anyone live with her?”

“I think someone hurt,” Ayla said, thoughtfully.

Jondalar looked at her, puzzled. He didn’t think she was repeating that she mistakenly thought someone was physically hurt.

“You are right, Ayla,” Mamut said. “Old wounds that still pain.”