The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

"Epadoa," S'Armuna called, as the people were getting their food. When the woman walked over to her, she said, "I think it is time to move Attaroa's body away and prepare her for burial."

"Shall we take her to her lodge?" the hunting woman said.

S'Armuna thought. "No," she said. "Take her to the Holding and put her in the lean-to. I think the men should have the warmth of Attaroa's earthlodge tonight. Many are weak and sick. We may need it for some time. Do you have another place to sleep?"

"Yes. When I could get away from Attaroa, I had a place with Unavoa in the lodge she shares."

"You might consider moving in with her for now, if that's agreeable to her, and you."

"I think we would both like that," Epadoa said.

"Later, we'll work something out with Doban."

"Yes," Epadoa said, "we will."

Jondalar watched Ayla as she walked with Epadoa and the hunters with the body of the headwoman, and he felt proud of her and a little surprised. Somehow Ayla had assumed the wisdom and the stature of Zelandoni herself. The only time he had seen Ayla assume control of a situation before was when someone was hurt, or sick, and in need of her special skills. Then, when he thought of it, he realized that these people were hurt and sick. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that Ayla would know what to do.

In the morning Jondalar took the horses and brought back the necessities they had taken when they left the Great Mother River and went to get Whinney. It seemed so long ago, and it made him realize that their Journey had been considerably delayed. They had been so far ahead of the distance he thought they would have to cover to reach the glacier that he had been sure they would make it in plenty of time. Now they were well into winter, and they were farther away.

This Camp did need help, and he knew Ayla would not leave until she had done everything she felt she could. He had promised to help, too, and he was excited about the prospect of teaching Doban and the others to work the flint, and the ones who wanted, to use the spear-thrower, but a small knot of worry had begun. They had to cross that glacier before the spring melt made it too treacherous, and he wanted to get under way again, soon.

S'Armuna and Ayla worked together to examine and treat the boys and men of the Camp. Their help was too late for one man. He died in Attaroa's lodge the first night out of the Holding, of gangrene so advanced that both legs were already dead. Most of the rest needed treatment for some injury or illness, and they were all underfed. They also smelled of the sickness of the Holding and were unbelievably filthy.

S'Armuna decided to delay firing of the kiln. She didn't have time, and the feeling was wrong for it, though she did think it could be a powerful healing ceremony at the right moment. They used the inner fire chamber to heat water for bathing and treating of wounds instead, but the treatment that was needed most was food and warmth. After the healers had administered whatever help they could, those who were not in serious difficulty and had mothers or mates, or other kin to live with, moved back in with them.

It was the youngsters, the ones who were nearing or barely into adolescence, that made Ayla particularly angry. Even S'Armuna was appalled. She had closed her eyes to the severity of their situation.

That evening, after another meal shared together, Ayla and S'Armuna described some of the problems they had found, explaining general needs and answering questions. But the day had been long, and Ayla finally said she had to rest. As she stood up to leave, someone asked a last question about one of the youngsters. When Ayla replied, another woman made a comment about the evil headwoman, laying all blame at Attaroa's feet, and self-righteously absolving herself of all responsibility. It raised Ayla's ire, and she made an announcement that came out of the deep anger that had been growing all day.

"Attaroa was a strong woman, with a strong will, but no matter how strong a person is, two people, or five people, or ten people are stronger. If all of you had been willing to resist her, she could have been stopped long before this. Therefore, you are all, as a Camp, women and men, partly responsible for the suffering of these children. And I will tell you now, any of those youngsters, or even any of the men, who suffer for a long time as a result of this ... this abomination"—Ayla struggled to contain her fury—"must be cared for by this whole Camp. You are all responsible for them, for the rest of their lives. They have suffered, and in their suffering have become the chosen of Muna. Anyone who refuses to help them will answer to Her."

Ayla turned and left, and Jondalar followed, but her words carried more weight than she could know. Most people already felt that she was not an ordinary woman, and many were saying that she was an incarnation of the Great Mother Herself; a living munai in human form, who had come to take Attaroa and set the men free. What else could explain horses that came at her whistle? Or a wolf, huge even for his own large northern breed, following her wherever she went and sitting quietly at her command? Wasn't it the Great Earth Mother Who had given birth to the spirit forms of all the animals?

According to the rumors, the Mother had created both women and men for a reason, and She had given them the Gift of Pleasures to honor Her. The spirits of both men and women were necessary to make new life, and Muna had come to make it clear that anyone trying to create Her children some other way was an abomination to Her. Hadn't She brought the Zelandonii to show them how She felt? A man who was the embodiment of Her lover and mate? Taller and more handsome than most men, and light and fair like the moon. Jondalar was noticing a difference in the way the Camp was acting toward him, which made him uneasy. He didn't much like it.

There had been so much to do the first day, even with both healers and help from most of the Camp, that Ayla put off the special treatment she wanted to try on the boys with the dislocations. S'Armuna had even delayed the burial of Attaroa. The following morning a site was selected and the grave was dug. A simple ceremony conducted by the One Who Served finally returned the headwoman to the bosom of the Great Mother Earth.

A few even felt some grief. Epadoa had not expected to feel anything, and yet she did. Because of the way most of the Camp felt, she couldn't express it, but Ayla could see from her body language, her postures and expressions, that she was struggling with it. Doban also exhibited strange behavior, and she guessed he was trying to deal with his own mixed emotions. For most of his young life, Attaroa had been the only mother he knew. He had felt betrayed when she turned on him, but her love had always been erratic, and he couldn't entirely let go of his feelings for her.

Grief needed to be released. Ayla knew that from her own losses. She had planned to try to treat the boy right after the burial, but she wondered if she should wait longer. This might not be the right day for it, but maybe having something else to concentrate on would be better for both of them. She approached Epadoa on the way back to the Camp.

"I'm going to try to reset Doban's dislocated leg, and I'm going to need help. Will you assist me?"

"Won't it be painful for him?" Epadoa said. She recalled only too well his screams of pain, and she was beginning to feel protective of him. He was, if not her son, at least her charge, and she took it seriously. Her life, she was sure, depended on it.

"I will put him to sleep. He

won't feel it, though he will have some pain when he wakes up, and he will have to be moved very carefully for some time," Ayla explained. "He won't be able to walk."

"I will carry him," Epadoa said.

When they got back to the big lodge, Ayla explained to the boy that she wanted to try to straighten his leg. He pulled away from her, looking very nervous, and when he saw Epadoa coming into the lodge, his eyes filled with fear.

"No! She's going to hurt me!" Doban screamed at the sight of the Wolf Woman. If he could have run away, he would have.

Epadoa stood straight and stiff beside the bed platform he was sitting on. "I will not hurt you. I promise you, I will never hurt you again," she said. "And I will never let anyone else hurt you, not even this woman."

He glanced up at her, apprehensive, but wanting to believe her. Desperately wanting to believe her.