The Mammoth Hunters (Earth's Children 3)

“My mother says she doesn’t think it’s right for them to bring animals to a Summer Meeting.”

“My uncle said he doesn’t mind the horses, so much, or even the wolf, so long as they keep them away, but he thinks they ought to be banned from bringing that flathead to meetings and ceremonies that are meant for people.”

“Hey, flathead! Go on, get out of here. Go back to your pack, with the other animals, where you belong.”

At first Ayla was too stunned to react to the openly derogatory comments. Then she saw Rydag close his eyes and look down, and start to head back toward Cattail Camp. With blazing anger, she stormed up to the youngsters.

“What is wrong with you? How can you call Rydag an animal? Are you blind?” Ayla said with barely restrained fury. Several people stopped to see what was going on. “Can’t you see he understands every word you say? How can you be so cruel? Do you feel no shame?”

“Why should my son feel shame?” a woman said, coming to her youngster’s defense. “That flathead is an animal, and shouldn’t be allowed at ceremonies that are sacred to the Mother.”

Several more people were crowding around now, including most of the Lion Camp. “Ayla, don’t pay attention to them,” Nezzie said, trying to cool her rage.

“Animal! How dare you say he’s an animal! Rydag is just as much a person as you are,” Ayla cried, turning on the woman.

“I don’t have to be insulted like that,” the woman said. “I’m no flathead woman.”

“No, you aren’t! She would be more human than you are. She would have more compassion, more understanding.”

“How do you know so much?”

“No one knows better than I. They took me in, raised me when I lost my people and had no one else. I would have died if it hadn’t been for the compassion of a woman of the Clan,” Ayla said. “I was proud to be a woman of the Clan, and a mother.”

“No! Ayla don’t!” she heard Jondalar saying, but she was past all caring.

“They are human, and so is Rydag. I know, because I have a son like him.”

“Oh, no.” Jondalar cringed, as he pushed his way forward to stand beside her.

“Did she say she had a son like him?” a man said. “A son of mixed spirits?”

“I’m afraid you’ve done it now, Ayla,” Jondalar said quietly.

“She mothered an abomination? You better get away from her.” A man came forward to the woman who had been arguing with Ayla. “If she draws that kind of spirit to her, it might get inside some other women, too.”

“That’s right! You better get away from her, too,” another man said to the obviously pregnant woman standing beside him, as he led her away. Other people were drawing back, their expressions full of repugnance and fear.

“Clan?” one of the musicians said. “Those rhythms she played, didn’t she say they were Clan rhythms? Is that who she meant? Flatheads?”

As Ayla looked around, she felt a moment of panic, and an urge to run from all these people who were looking at her with such disgust. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, lifted her chin and stood her ground defiantly. What right did they have to say her son was less than human? From the corner of her eye she saw Jondalar standing beside, and just behind her, and was more grateful than she could say.

Then, on her other side, another man stepped forward. She turned and smiled at Mamut, and Ranec as well. Then Nezzie was standing with her, and Talut, and then, of all people, Frebec. Almost as one, the rest of the Lion Camp stood beside her.

“You are wrong,” Mamut said to the throng, in the voice that seemed too powerful to come from one so old. “Flat-heads are not animals. They are people, and children of the Mother as much as you are. I, too, lived with them for a time, and hunted with them. Their medicine woman healed my arm, and I learned my way to the Mother through them. The Mother does not mix spirits, there are no horse-wolves, or lion-deer. The people of the Clan are different, but the difference is insignificant. No children like Rydag, or Ayla’s son, could be born if they were not human, too. They are not abominations. They are simply children.”

“I don’t care what you say, old Mamut,” the pregnant woman said. “I don’t want a flathead child or a mixed one. If she already had one, that spirit may linger around her.”

“Woman, Ayla is no threat to you,” the old shaman replied. “The spirit that was chosen for your child is already there. It cannot be changed now. It was not Ayla’s doing that gave her baby the spirit of a flathead man, she did not draw that spirit to her. It was the Mother’s choice. You must remember, a man’s spirit never lingers far from the man himself. Ayla grew up with the Clan. She became a woman while she lived with them. When Mut decided to give her a child, She could only choose from the men who were nearby, and they were all men of the Clan. Of course the spirit of one of them was chosen to enter her, but you don’t see any men of the Clan around here now, do you?”

“Old Mamut, what if there were some flathead men nearby?” a woman shouted out from the crowd.

“I believe they would have to be very close, even share the same hearth, before that spirit would be chosen. The people of the Clan are human, but there are some differences. While life is better than no life to the Mother, which is why Ayla was given a child when she wanted one, it is not easy to blend the two. With so many Mamutoi men around, one of them would be chosen first.”

“That’s what you say, old man,” another voice called out. “I’m not so sure it’s true. I’m keeping my woman away from her.”

“No wonder she’s so good with animals, she grew up with them.” Ayla turned and saw that it was Chaleg who was talking.

“Does that mean their magic is stronger than ours?” Frebec replied. There was some uneasy shuffling in the crowd.