"How is she Willamar," Jondalar said with concern as he saw the man who he considered to be the man of his hearth for a while. Willamar had just left the sectional room of Zelandoni's hearth were his mate, Marthona was being treated.
"She's not good Jondalar," he said quietly. "Zelandoni says that she is refusing treatment, she wants to pass to the next world in dignity." Willamar sat down heavily next to the daughter of his hearth, Folara.
"Oh Willamar," she said as tears leaked out of her eyes. She was still relatively young, only mated for about two years. "What about Ayla, is she able to do anything?"
"She isn't giving up hope yet," Willamar said looking at Jondalar. "You really have brought home a remarkable woman Jondalar. Zelandoni says the only reason Marthona made it through this winter is because of Ayla's treatment."
Just then, as if hearing their mother's name had signaled them, Ayla's children burst in followed by their favorite playmate, Wolf.
"We taught Wolf a new trick, Jondalar," Jonayla said as she ran up to hug him; her brother, Thonolan, following behind giggling. He launched himself into Jondalar's open lap as Wolf sat down obediently, sensing the mood in the room.
Jondalar was at a lost. He couldn't deny the children of his hearth the attention they wanted but he needed to be here for his mother. "Why don't you take the kids to Proleva's for a while," Willamar said to Folara. Folara got up slowly, the later stages of pregnancy showing, but Jondalar stopped her.
"No, they can know," he said. The kids, sensing his mood, turned to him and were immediately quiet.
"What dada," Thonolan asked, his baby words slurring together. Jondalar smiled at the name that the boy had chosen for him. Jondalar had been such a mouthful that he had taken to calling him dada around the hearth. Jondalar took his son in his arms and looked at his young face. He looked more like him then he realized but his hair was dirty blonde, more like his mother's and he had Ayla's lighter eyes.
Jonayla moved closer to him and he held an arm out towards her too. Even at six years Jondalar could already see the beautiful woman she would become. He held the children close to him, how did you tell a young child that their grandmam was going to pass into the next world?
"It's Marthona, isn't it," Jonayla said as she snuggled closer to him.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Listen kids. Grandmam isn't feeling very well. Zelondoni and Ayla don't think she is long for this world. Why don't you two go and take wolf, play with some other children." The kids nodded and exited the hearth, Wolf following behind at the signal from Jondalar.
"I'm going to go and tell Joharron," Folara said as she got up slowly. The death of their mother would be hard on them all and he deserved to know too.
Willamar watched her leave. It pained him to watch her; she looked so much like Marthona. Her pregnant shuffle reminded him about the time when Marthona was first pregnant with Thonolan. He had lost the son of his hearth and now he would lose his mate too. The weight of his pain bore down on him.
Jondalar's brow was pulled in a seemingly permanent frown as he watched Willamar. For as long as he could remember this man had been like the man of his hearth. Willamar had taken him in as his own, taught him how to hold his first spear. He hadn't noticed it before but Willamar's hair was streaked with gray and his skin was no longer tight and youthful.
"Jondalar," Zelandoni said coming out from behind the screen. "Marthona says she wishes to talk to you, alone." Zelandoni came out from the sectional and went to the exit of the hearth. "I have to go and talk to Joharron, Willamar will you join me?"
Before the words sunk in the two left, he got up and went to behind the screen. It was dark in the room but he could make out his mother lying down and Ayla crouching below her. There were a few candles light around the room but it was hard to make out Marthona's facial expression in the dim light.
Ayla turned to him, her eyes filled with worry. He knew this must be hard on her. Over the last seven years she had felt that Marthona was like her own mother, and now she could do nothing to help her except make her comfortable as she passed into the next world.
"Jondalar," Marthona said weakly. "Is that you?"
"Yes mother," he said as he sat down next to Ayla by the bed.
"Oh Jondalar," Marthona said in a whisper. "I was worried that I wouldn't have a chance to tell you before I passed."
"Oh Jondalar," Ayla said as she buried her head in his shoulder. "She's been talking about you and Dalanar all morning. I can't seem to break her fever."
"Jondalar, I have to tell you about Dalanar. No one told you the real reasons behind us and I feel that you deserve to know," Marthona said before falling into a coughing fit.
"I think you should rest mother," Jondalar said when the coughing had subsided. "We can talk more in the morning." He began to get up but found his arm held down.
"Jondalar," his mother said harshly. He remembered the tone from when he was young. "It can't wait until tomorrow. I have to tell you now."
His mother laid down in the bed, her arm falling limp. "Mother," he shouted suddenly as he stood up.
"Shh, Jondalar it is alright, she's only resting," Ayla said as she got her medicine bag and mixed some tea. "I think you should listen to her story, it seems the only way her spirit can finally rest.
"Yes Ayla," Jondalar said as he watched his mother. "When she wakes I'll listen to what she wants to tell me about her and Dalanar."