The women sat in the sun, sheltered from the cool north wind by one of the larger tents, their minds half on their basket weaving and half on the gathering that bustled around them. They chatted about children, men, hide-curing tips, who was getting the highest bride price offers, and so on and on. Suddenly one of them broke off her tiresome nattering and said in an undertone, "Heshah--it's him again!"
Sarie glanced up and nearly lost the new strand. He was watching her again. The strongly built man stood a short stone's-throw away. His brown eyes gazed at her from below a high forehead with oddly exaggerated brows that gave him a grave, serious look. A heavy mane of light-brown hair, tied back with a thong, fell over his lion skin cape. He wore only breechclout and leggings otherwise, and a belt with a large pouch and a sheathed knife of obvious quality.
His cheeks and forehead bore the zig-zag marks of a mamut and the curved moon-like horn symbol of Aurochs Camp. He saw her look and averted his gaze. Sarie watched him abruptly turn and leave with smooth, graceful strides.
She knew of him: Durec, second mamut of Aurochs Camp--Heather Camp as they called themselves in the summer--and yet he was said to be of mixed spirits, half flathead. His strong features certainly gave that credence. Yet he did not seem at all... brutish, and he had been accepted into the Mamuti. She lowered her eyes to her basket, embarrassed that she had been staring so.
"Phah! He was looking at you, Sarie."
"So what," she said, annoyed at Devanie's intrusion into her thoughts.
"So, you'd better watch out. He could send a spirit into you, and you'd be blessed with a little flathead!" The woman brayed like an onager at her own brilliant humor.
"Oh, shut up!" Sarie exclaimed. She thumped her unfinished basket down and leaped to her feet, taking off at a fast walk away from the buzzing swarm of gossips. She'd had quite enough of their idea of what was what and who was who. They treated her like she was some kind of idiot just because her Camp came from beyond the Donetsa, driven here by a long drought that made game scarce.
Tears blurred her eyes. She swung her legs in an unladylike gait that made her side-skirts flap. Let them stare and laugh. They laugh at our different clothing, they laugh at the way we talk, they think they're so great just because they haven't dragged themselves out of a dust-storm with nothing! Oh, Mutaa, what did we do to deserve Your wrath?
She didn't stop until she came to the river. Pausing briefly before descending the last, slightly steeper slope to its sandy banks, she brushed the moisture from her eyes and sniffed. Then she strode out onto a curving sandbar that jutted at an angle into the water. The sand felt good under her bare feet.
Sarie stood looking out over the broad, shallow river. She dug her toes into the cool, damp sand. The Mother had not withheld Her life-giving water from this part of the land.
Behind her and downstream, she heard women's voices. Oh no, not more giggling gossip-scavengers. She turned to leave the river, her lips pressed together. Two young women with dripping baskets, their leggings up around their waists, had already reached the sandbar. One of them waved to her, smiling. "Hola, Sarie?" the girl said.
"Hello," Sarie responded, with no enthusiasm. The girl--what was her name...Tuzzie? Tusie? Yes, that was it. They had met at the women's dance two nights ago and exchanged a few words. She didn't know the other, older one with the red hair.
"Are you enjoying the Summer Meeting?"
Sarie shrugged, tossing her head to one side and wrinkling her nose. "I guess so." She didn't feel like discussing it.
The other woman said something that Sarie couldn't hear over the sound of wind in the bushes along the river.
"Oh, yes, you're right," Tusie replied, then said, "Sarie, would you visit Cattail Camp? We're having a special feast tomorrow... it's just something our Camp does because of some people we had with us for a while once."
She smiled so amiably it would have been hard to say no. Sarie found herself nodding, with a smile of her own in spite of all her bitterness. "Yes, thank you. I will. Um... is it necessary to dress for it?" She didn't have much to choose from these days. A lot of snide looks had come her way at the dance.
"No, just come as you like. We'll be starting when the sun is half high. Oh, and bring someone else, if you want. We like surprises." Tusie and her companion grinned.
"All right... I'll see you then." Sarie stood there watching them walk away, quite surprised at herself and at how the day was turning out. Of course they might just want someone to patronize, but it was a free meal. Redgrass Camp was short on meat.
"I feel like a stuffed target," Harlev muttered.
"You won't be mistaken for one if you keep complaining," Sarie told her brother. "Anyway, that's the best tunic we have. Do you want me to loosen the lacings a little more?"
"Please!" He stood stiff as a tent pole while she retied the thongs. "I wish that herd hadn't spooked off on us yesterday. We'd be having our own feast."
Sarie sighed. "Maybe if Gemarec had taken the Cotton-grass Camp's offer of a combined hunt..."
"Yeah, and they'd get most of the meat."
"Well, it would be better than none," she snapped, and spun around to continue on their way.
"I know, I know, but you know how it is. You're not so happy to be on the scrap-edge of the hide either. Ah, I'm sorry, Sarie." He caught up with her and put an arm around her shoulders. "Things'll get better soon. Mamauta says so. If Mama wasn't so stubborn..."
...We might be using those spear-throwing things too, Sarie added in her mind, and our hunters might have a better chance. She patted Harlev's back. It was always harder for a man, at least a young one with no status of his own. Poor Harlev would have a hard time getting a hearth when he didn't have so much as a fox fur for a bride price.
The tents of Cattail Camp rose before them, so grand compared to their own. Most of the people of the Camp were outside, mostly behind the tents. Children's laughter rose from somewhere out of sight.
"Hola, you must be the guests that Tusie and Rugie invited," said the tall, red-haired man who spotted their approach. "Welcome in the name of Mut! I am Danug, son of Nezzie. Talut is the man of my hearth, he'll be around to greet you in two wags of the wolf's tail.
Sarie introduced herself and her brother to Danug, then to Talut, older and heavier with a tinge of grey in his russet mane, but as much like his mate's son as one mammoth is to another. They were then ushered to the area behind the tent where the festivities were in full swing. Tulie, the headwoman, welcomed them warmly. She introduced them to the affable young mamut of Cattail Camp, Myrec. It was he who had been entertaining the children with stories. Then she presented the other notables attending this extended family gathering.
"Sarie, daughter of Labanie of Redgrass Camp, and Harlev, son of Labanie, this is my daughter, Deegie, and Tarneg, my son, of Heather Camp. We ask you to feel at home here. This day we remember some dear friends who were with us for too short a time. Because they came to us as strangers and departed as friends, it is our custom to invite someone whom we have not had the honor of meeting. Therefore, we ask you to help us celebrate."
"I thank you," Sarie said. She felt awkward; she had not known that both Camps were involved. Where was their mamut? The tought of meeting him gave her very mixed feelings.
"We are honored," Harlev echoed her with rawhide-stiff formality.
"Well, sit down, you two!" Talut boomed heartily. "Make yourselves at home. You're the guests of honor. Would you like some bouza? You may judge whether Danug's is the equal of mine."
"Equal? It's better and you know it," Danug said, earning a swat from Talut's big hand that mussed his hair. Both giants laughed while their mates and sisters tsk-ed and shook their heads.
"Sarie, if you'd rather you can just have some tea for now, Deegie said. The younger of the two headwomen had a gentle, motherly voice. "If you're hungry, there's a nice mussel chowder. The meat won't be done for a while yet."
Mussels? Oh yes, the spoon-shell water creatures. That must have been what Tusie and her friend had been gathering in the river yesterday. Sarie had seldom tasted them; their old home Camp had been a good distance from any rivers yielding shellfish. "Shall we have some soup?" she asked her brother.
"Sounds good," Harlev said.
While they enjoyed their bowls of thick soup--a wonderful dish containing plenty of the savory shellfish, groundnuts, carrots, and unripe grass seeds ground with water into a milky liquid--and sipped tea afterward, their hosts told them the story of Ayla and Jondalar. Other members of both Camps drifted into the adult story-telling circle and added their two beads' worth. Gradually the tale unfolded, though not in any strict sequential order.
Sarie had heard a little of the Woman Who Spoke To Animals, but it had sounded like a legend to her. Sitting here among people who had actually known Ayla made her feel as if she had walked into some land of the spirits, like a mamut. Harlev was as wide-eyed as a little boy, though he was the older of them. Her own eyes flew wide when Frebec brought his two wolves out to meet them. Chac, a male of unusual size, greeted them calmly. The younger female, Mizzie, behaved more warily. Frebec escorted her back to the tent in which she had her den. The visitors took his word for the four pups.
"The wolves help us in hunting," Danug told them. "They will cut an animal or two from a herd and distract them while we come out from hiding and--whishhh!"--he made a spear-casting motion. Everyone laughed when Chac took it as a signal and leaped up to look for a nonexistent thrown object. Danug continued, "They are less help in a big drive when we need to make sure the whole herd goes in the right direction. But for the small hunts, they are better than ten men."
"They eat a lot, though, don't they?" Harlev objected.
"True, but they go off on their own for small game, even mice. I never realized how many mice wolves eat until we had one living with us," Tarneg said.
"They keep the little nibblers down around a lodge," Nezzie added.
"Yeah, Deegie and Bernie have been after me," Tarneg said. "Thank Mut, Frebec has promised us a pup. It's not easy getting one otherwise. They have to be very young."
"You don't have horses too, do you?" Sarie inquired of the Cattail Camp headman.
Talut shook his head sadly. "No, though we tried. Latie--" he indicated the blonde woman with a baby at her breast--"had a foal that we took in a hunt, twice now, but the first one was injured and died. The second was older, too old to tame easily. It escaped and ran off."
"What does the age have to do with it?"
Frebec replied, "As I understand it, and my observations have borne this out, a very young animal that still depends on its mother's milk can be persuaded to accept a substitute for its mother."
"But... how do you feed it, then?" Sarie cast an uneasy glance at Latie.
"Ayla fed her horse cooked grain until it could eat enough grass. When she adopted a cave lion cub--"
"No," Harlev said. "What do you take us for? All right, I can see the wolves, but they often hang around camps and follow hunters anyway. I can't believe anyone would mess around with a cave lion!"
Sarie clamped her mouth shut. She was beginning to think the same thing: that they were being set up for a joke to amuse this crowd, however friendly they seemed.
Talut grinned at Harlev. "There are many things you haven't seen, young fellow, but I can't say I blame you for being skeptical. We saw it with our own eyes, though. Ayla's lion followed her, and showed up at that Summer Meeting." He proceeded to relate the story of "Baby" and his miraculous appearance that turned nearly the whole Summer Meeting in Ayla's favor.
"There were plenty who saw it. It was what turned Myrec around and caused him to take up the service of Mut."
Frebec chuckled and grinned at their mamut, who returned a broad smile and said, "Yes, and thanks to my good uncle here, I was taken seriously."
"Oh, phooh," Frebec said, waving a hand downward.
Sarie and Harlev found the account incredible, but the tellers were so earnest and straightforward they had no choice but to accept it. Still more time passed pleasantly in conversation and storytelling, and watching the young people of the two Camps show off their skill with spear and sling. At last some of the women started to make preparations to serve the feast.
"We are only waiting for Durc to get back from his meeting with some of the other mamuti," Tulie informed them. "Then we eat," she said, looking pointedly at Talut, who put on an exaggeratedly innocent look.
"Durc?" Harlev looked puzzled.
"Our mamut," Tarneg told him. "Second to Kylie, but she's visiting with her relatives because her younger brother is Joining soon. He is more commonly called Durec now, but we still use his Clan name among ourselves."
Harlev looked as if he might be about to say something else, but Sarie kicked his ankle. He listened politely while Deegie explained that Durc was the son of Ayla whom she had left behind with the flatheads--the Clan--and who had turned up unexpectedly several years ago at Aurochs Camp.
The missing mamut arrived just in time--Talut's stomach had begun to rumble ominously. Nezzie rose to greet the dignified man with a motherly hug. He hugged her back, a smile brightening his face.
Durec gave the guests a warm but restrained and formal greeting. Sarie met his eyes as briefly as possible. His hands seemed to linger on hers a little longer than necessary. The man's voice, deep and resonant, made her back prickle. Harlev did not seem to notice the odd tension between his sister and the unusual mamut--thank Mutaa.
Aurochs ribs and young pigs roasted whole over open coals, basted with crushed herbs and honey mixed with bouza, lay on mammoth-bone platters. Large bowls of boiled mixed greens accompanied them, and fresh horseradish sauce was available with plenty of clean mussel shells to dip it out. It was too early for grain-cakes, but starchy roots wrapped in green cattail leaves and buried in the coals for a while added a mild contrast to the seasoned meats and tangy sauce. Sarie helped herself to some beautifully browned morsels of meat and generous samples of everything else. Then the rest dug in.
The food was wonderful, Sarie thought. Nezzie's reputation as a cook was well deserved. Several times during the meal, her gaze strayed toward Durec. Each time, he looked up as if he felt her eyes upon him. Then they both quickly turned their attention elsewhere.
Why am I so attracted to that man? Sarie frowned as she tore a succulent bit of meat off of a rib.
"Is the meat all right?" Nezzie asked her with a touch of uncertainty in her voice.
"Oh, yes, it's delicious," Sarie replied, hoping her face would not go red on her. "I've never tasted any so good. Thank you so much for telling me the way you season it." Now if we have some better luck in hunting...
After dinner, which lasted as long as anyone had room to stuff in another bite, came more storytelling. Wymez, the venerable flintknapper, told of his great Journey. The son of his hearth, Ranec, was off on a Journey of his own, but Sarie and Harlev did not doubt that the man was as dark-skinned as they said. These people were collectors and attractors of the unusual.
In the great bouza debate, no conclusion was reached although a goodly few tastes left Sarie feeling a bit giddy. Harlev had loosened up considerably. When the dancing started, he had no compuctions about whirling about with any of the young women.
Sarie excused herself to visit the trench, after which she strayed off toward the river in search of a breeze to cool her bouza-flushed cheeks before returning. She stood out of sight of the camps behind a clump of man-high pines, looking out over the meandering river in the last golden light of day. Behind her she heard the music and revelry of the combined Camps. How happy they were. She sighed; life had been so dreary lately, and soon she would go back to her own poverty-stricken Camp.
She turned to go back, and came face to face with Durec, who rounded the trees just then. Both of them froze in their tracks.
"Pardon me," the man of mixed spirits said. "I did not know that you were here." The setting sun lit his deep-set eyes, giving them a touch of amber.
"It's all right, I was just going back." But she made no move; neither did he. Sarie took a good look at the mamut of Heather Camp. Like most of the men on this warm afternoon, he had stripped down to his breechclout. His bronzed body was impressive, though not of extraordinary height like Talut or Danug. Nor was it merely his firm muscles; it was the way he stood, with the wary grace and confidence of one who knew his stregth but never underestimated the dangers of the Mother's vast world.
His eyes held hers for a moment, sad and gentle, wise and shy at the same time. He veiled them, and his chest rose and fell in a long sigh. Sarie noted the odd tattoo half hidden in the mat of curly hair, and the small leather bag that hung from a thong abouit his neck.
She tore her feet from the ground, taking a few steps toward the camp. He held a hand out, not to touch her, only a gesture. "Wait--may I speak to you for a moment, please?"
"You may, if you wish."
"I have seen you several times, Sarie of Redgrass Camp. I am sorry if my attention has offended you."
Sarie raised her eyes to his but looked away again quickly. "I am not offended."
"I would ask... if I may... do you not have a mate?"
"No, I do not," she replied, more sharply than she had intended. She would have, but her Promised lay buried in the dusty bosom of the Mother, one of many who perished in the long trek here. He had given his life to save others.
Durec did not speak, respecting her silence with his own.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's been hard... leaving our home, and losing so many..."
"I know," he said, very softly. His voice drew her eyes to his once more. "May I walk back with you?" He held out his hand, and she reached out to touch his fingers wth hers.
"Yes, thank you. It will be dark soon, we'd best get back before my brother starts to worry about me."
They walked slowly side by side as the sky turned a deeper blue and the first stars shown overhead. Within sight of the freshly built-up fire, they paused. Sarie could not say which stopped first.
She saw the people of Cattail and Heather Camps gathered there in joyous celebration, and her brother off to one side with a woman. They were kissing ardently.
"Oh, dung!" she exclaimed, and her sight blurred with tears.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"No, tell me, please." Durec's hands augmented his voice with an earnest, pleading gesture.
Suddenly she could not help herself. All of the pain, sorrow, and frustration of her devastated existence poured out in a torrent of words and tears. Durec listened attentively. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes at last.
"Sarie, it is not so hopeless. Should he find a woman that he loves, some arrangement can be made. There is the custom of a future claim, he could offer something of value which the Mother may provide later, is it not so?"
"Yes, but... we are strangers to this territory, we don't even have a home yet!"
"That too may be remedied. I will speak of it to the Council and the Mamuti. There are good locations that no one has a claim to, and there is plenty of time before the snows come."
Sarie wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "You are kind."
"I serve the Mother of us all," Durec replied. He sighed then, and looked away from her, his hands dropping to his sides. Sarie gave him a questioning look, and touched his arm.
"Now tell me what troubles you," she said.
His head swiveled abruptly back, firelight glinting in his eyes. "You." A long silence stretched out between them. Then he lifted a hand to touch her cheek. "Sarie," he said, in a guttural whisper, "will you Honor the Mother with me this night?"
She drew a quick breath as the heat of her womanhood throbbed in response. "Yes." It seemed so inevitable now, as if it had been decided the first time they saw each other. "Yes, Durec. I will Honor Her with you."
They had to stop by the fireside first. Durec spoke a few words to Talut. Then he led Sarie to a tent of modest size a short distance from the rest. It was dark inside, but they needed no light.
Sarie removed her clothing and set it aside. Then she found Durec, waiting upon the soft bed, by touch. His hands caressed her tenderly, knowingly. "Sarie," he whispered, "you are beautiful." His lips found her face and kissed their way to her mouth while his hands explored her body.
She ran her hands over his back, reveling in the feel of his strong body and eager for more of his touch. Oh, Mutaa, it had been so long since she had felt the hard thrust of manhood inside her. She cried out again and again with the sweet agony of Pleasure. Durec's silent intensity was broken only by short whispers that she answered with "Yes!" and "Oh, please, yes!" until his own release came at last with a long, shuddering gasp.
They lay together in contented languor. After a while they talked, their words slowly coming farther between until the predawn chorus of the birds told them that they had slept away the night. As the sun brightened the eastern sky, they bathed in the river, then hastened back to the warm tent to dry off. They ended up tangled on the bed sharing Pleasure once more. Their hair was still damp when they emerged to answer Nezzie's call to an open-air breakfast.
Danug's mate, Thalarie, grinned at them as she ladled a hearty hot soup made of leftovers into bowls. "You two had a good night, I see. Your brother went home last night, Sarie, but he said he'd be back."
"Oh...all right. I'll wait for him then. Thank you," Sarie said, taking her bowl from Thalarie. Not all of the partyers had gotten up yet, perhaps because of their efforts in the cause of the science of brewing. She picked a handy mat to sit on. Durec sat beside her, letting his leg touch hers.
Tulie emerged from the main tent and nodded a "good morning" to Sarie and Durec. "Talut is still snoring," she remarked to Nezzie.
Sarie's appetite lessened as she thought about leaving, but she finished her broth and meat. She glanced at Durec. His brooding gaze was fixed on his empty bowl that sat on the ground in front of him. How sad he looked, and with so much reason. Of a sudden his head turned to her. "Sarie," he said, "I will accompany you to your Camp, if I may."
"Yes, of course." He had meant it, about helping them, then. He would want to talk to her mother, and Gemarec, and Turbez.
The man rubbed his hands together and furrowed his heavy brow for a moment. "Sarie, would you... consider joining your hearth to mine?"
Her mouth opened but nothing came out at first. Then one word sufficed: "Yes."
There was no more sleep for the layabeds--the thigh-slapping alone would have roused them.
Labanie received the news with a fairly straight face. On the one hand, she could ask a high bride price and would likely get it. On the other...
Sarie saw the way her mother looked at Durec. Mamut he might be, and son of the near-legendary Ayla, but he was still half Clan--half flathead. Gemarec was no less perturbed. However, she could see that he recognized the value of an alliance with Aurochs and Lion Camps. Turbez, their mamauta, had reservations, though he had met Durec previously and respected the man's wisdom and dedication. Harlev saw the determination in her eyes and did not presume to risk his sister's ire.
At last all of them agreed to sleep on it. The next morning, Durec returned with several other members of Heather Camp. Each of them bore bundles of furs, dried meat, beads, spears and spear-throwers (now let them balk at using a new weapon, Sarie thought), fine blades and tools of high quality flint. Durec held something even more amazing--a wolf pup, and the promise to help them train it to hunt when it was ready to leave its mother. The heads of Redgrass Camp succumbed.
The wolf pup wriggled and licked both their faces as Sarie and Durec sealed their Promise with a long kiss.
Last edited: 11/04/07