Chapter Three

Creb was slow to start walking. He was more than halfway through what would normally have been his walking year before he pulled himself up on his feet for the first time. And, when he did begin to walk, it quickly became clear that something was wrong; he already had a pronounced limp. At first, Avra hoped he might grow out of it in time, but he showed no sign of doing so and it became clear that her early fears that he would never be able to hunt were going to be realised.

There was nothing she could do. Thanks to her lineage, she knew a great deal about herbal remedies and even how to perform a few minor operations, but she could not do anything to correct her son's limp. And Creb was becoming increasingly aware that he was different from the people around him, that no-one else in the clan had the same difficulty with walking as he did. "Why leg bad?" he signed one afternoon after he had tried to walk down to the river with Avra. When he couldn't keep up, his mother had been forced to carry him in his travelling cloak.

"You were born that way," Avra replied. "And I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it."

"But you heal people." Creb had often seen his mother and grandmother make people better when they were sick or injured. "Make leg better."

Avra shook her head. "Creb, I can't. Even the best medicine woman can't heal everyone and I can't heal your leg. You're just going to have to accept that." All the same, she wished there was something she could do. Creb was now two-and-a-half years old, getting heavier every day. Eventually, he would get too heavy for her to carry when, as had happened today, his bad leg prevented him from keeping up. Clan children often rode on their mothers' hips when travelling long distances, but, as they grew older, they liked to get down and run by themselves whenever they could. Creb, however, would never be able to run; he could barely even walk.

As she looked at her small son, Avra wondered, as she had done many times since he was born, whether he would ever be able to contribute anything to the clan. If he couldn't, if no purpose could be found for him, he would grow up to be a burden and never have any kind of status. And, without the ability to hunt, he would never truly be a man; instead he would live out his life in the same limbo as older boys who had not yet made their first major kill.


In the time that had passed since Creb was born, there had been some changes in Vorg's clan. The ranks of the hunters had a new member; Dorv's manhood rites had been held a few moons before, meaning he was now a fully adult member of the clan. At a ceremony watched by the whole clan, Breeg had carved the symbol for Dorv's Musk Ox totem into the youth's arm. Avra had told Dorv's mother, Uva, that she was pleased for her son, but there was no disguising her sorrow at the fact that she would never be able to watch Creb go through the same initiation. The Clan's language was more than just hand signals and a few gruff words; the whole body was used to communicate. Posture and expression conveyed nuances in the same way tone of voice did in verbal speech, often even more so. It meant Clan people were so highly skilled at reading body language that any attempt to tell a lie could easily be seen. At most, they could refrain from mentioning something they wanted to keep private.

Dorv had recently been mated to a young woman named Ama; the couple were still in isolation, confined to their hearth which was off limits to the rest of the clan for the duration of their confinement. Ama, Avra recalled, was Vorg's stepsibling. After Dron was killed, Iga needed a man to provide for her and Vorg had given her to a hunter named Briv, whose own mate (Ama's mother) had died. This meant Dorv, as Ama's mate, was now kin.

Ora, the woman who had nursed Creb when Avra's milk was slow to start, was expecting her second child. Her totem had been defeated not long after she started weaning Oudra and her pregnancy was progressing well. Avra was cautiously optimistic; all the signs suggested that Ora's baby would be healthy, but she knew from her store of memories, as well as from first-hand experience, that there could be unforeseen complications with any birth.

And Ega, the mate of Borm, the young man selected for special honours at the Bear Ceremony, had given birth to a baby girl, the first child to be born since Creb. Avra and Uba had both helped to deliver the infant, whom Borm had named Aba. As with Dorv and his manhood ceremony, Avra's feelings had been mixed. She was pleased that Ega's labour had gone well and that Aba was healthy, but it also reminded her of the difficulties she had faced, not to mention the damage that had been done to Creb. The boy who should have been destined to be leader was instead destined to be crippled for the rest of his life.


Avra did her best to help Creb, encouraging him to exercise in order to strengthen his bad leg. But there was only so much she could do and, by the time Creb was three years old, his leg showed little improvement. Unable to learn to hunt like other males, he would often watch longingly as Zoug practised with his small weapons, wanting to join in but prevented from doing so because of his crippled leg.

Worse, Avra had noticed some members of the clan commenting about him. From early childhood, she had been conditioned not to look at people when they were talking, but she couldn't help seeing some of things people were saying about Creb. From these brief glimpses, she gathered that they thought he would never be anything but a burden, that it would be better if he hadn't been allowed to live. She never let anyone know how much these comments upset her, but she was worried all the same; sooner or later, Creb would begin to notice what people were saying about him. And then there was the question of what would happen to him when he grew up. If he couldn't learn to hunt, he would always be the lowest ranked male in the clan, would never rise through the ranks to become leader as he should have.

Vorg tolerated his mate's son, but there was none of the paternal pride most men showed towards the sons of their mates. He never said anything openly, but Avra sensed that he was ashamed of Creb, that he believed the boy's deformity cast doubt on his manhood; it meant the essence of his Red Deer totem had never completely overcome her Duck totem. All the same, he was gentle with her and never blamed her for producing a less-than-perfect child the way most men would have. Nor did he show any sign of wanting to give her up or take a second mate.

Besides, she suspected that she was already pregnant again. The time when she normally had her woman's curse had passed with no sign of blood and she was suffering bouts of morning sickness just as she had when she was pregnant with Creb. All the same, she decided she would wait until she was sure before she told Vorg. That would mean waiting to see if she missed her next woman's curse as well; if she did, it would mean her totem had definitely been defeated.

If she was indeed expecting her second child, Avra wanted this baby to be healthy and, for Vorg's sake, she wanted a son who could be raised to become the next leader. Vorg needed an heir and, since Creb was unable to fulfil the destiny that should have been his from birth, Avra knew she must produce a healthy boy. It was the duty of all good Clan women to produce sons, especially if they were mated to a leader or to a man who would one day become a leader.

In any case, she decided that she would not mention the possibility that she was pregnant until she was certain. To say anything too soon could be bad luck and she didn't want anything to go wrong this time.


Vorg, however, was highly perceptive and soon noticed that Avra wasn't keeping herself in the isolation required of women whose totems were battling. But it would be unseemly for him to say anything openly, so he waited until he and his family were in the privacy of their hearth before he asked Avra if her totem had been defeated.

"Yes, I believe life has started," she replied, obeying a lifetime of conditioning to answer a direct question. "And I hope this baby will be a boy too," she added, nodding towards Creb. The child had fallen asleep in Uba's lap and was totally oblivious to the discussion going on between his parents.

"Healthy, I hope," Vorg signed, refraining from openly mentioning Creb's deformity. When he made the decision to let Avra keep Creb, he had done so expecting the child to die within a few days. But, against all expection, Creb had lived; he had made it through the crucial first seven days and was now in his weaning year. In around seven or eight years' time, he would become a man - or he would have had he been able to hunt. Vorg had often wondered what he was going to do about the son of his mate, the boy whose crippled leg prevented him from learning to hunt like other males, and he was still no nearer to a solution than he had been three years ago.

"I hope so too," Avra gestured, looking down at herself. Inside her, though it was too early yet for anything to show, Creb's younger sibling was growing. She clutched her amulet, asking her totem to make this child normal and healthy and to make it the boy she and Vorg both wanted.


Avra's pregnancy progressed normally, but she knew a normal pregnancy did not always lead to a normal birth. There was always something that could go wrong, as had happened when Creb was born, so she dared not relax until her child was born alive and well and, hopefully, male. Some day, she would need a daughter to continue her line, but not yet. First, she wanted to give Vorg an heir and she hoped her second son would become the leader his brother could never be.

Creb was aware of a sense of anticipation at the hearth, though he did not know what was causing it. He just knew that his mother's belly was swelling and that, if he put his hand on it, he could sometimes feel something kicking inside. Then, when he was nearly four years old, he saw Avra stop suddenly while preparing the evening meal, a strained expression crossing her face. "Mother, what's wrong?" he signed. He was beginning to pick up the nuances of posture and expression that were so crucial to the Clan's language. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt," Avra signed back. "I'm just . . ." She was cut off as she felt another contraction and gave her young son a reassuring gesture.

At length, Vorg went to join the rest of the men around Cruv's fire, but Creb stayed where he was. Adult males were not allowed near a woman in labour, but Creb was a child, so no-one was concerned by his presence; in fact, having a child of either gender witness a birth was of little concern to the Clan. Birth was a fact of life and Clan people did not conceal the facts of life from their children. Indeed, Creb had already witnessed the births of Aba and of Ora's second child, Noog; both babies had been normal and healthy, assuring their mothers that the crippled child's presence had not angered the spirits.

As Avra laboured, Vorg's hearth had a constant traffic of women going back and forth. Some only stopped by briefly to offer Avra moral support, but a few stayed to help Uba. Nothing was said openly, but they were all hoping that nothing would go wrong this time, that Avra's child would not be crippled like its brother. If it was, Avra would almost certainly have to dispose of it; it was too much to hope that Vorg would allow her to keep two deformed babies. Throughout it all, Creb didn't move; he sat on his sleeping furs, watching as his mother groaned and strained.

This time, however, Avra's labour progressed normally and, as the sun made its first appearance on the horizon to the east, her second child was born alive and well and howling lustily.


Uba tied off the umbilical cord with sinew which had been dyed red, then bit through the cord to sever it. "You have another son," she gestured, wrapping the baby in a soft rabbit skin and handing him to his mother.

Avra put the baby to her breast and was relieved to find that he latched on immediately. After the problem she had had producing milk for Creb when he was first born, one of her biggest worries had been that it would happen again. But it looked as though there were going to be no problems with this child; he was a strong and healthy baby and, unlike his brother, his head was the right size. After a while, Avra beckoned to her first son, who was still sitting on his sleeping furs, asking him if he wanted to see the baby.

Curious, Creb got up and limped over to his mother, who held the baby so that he could see him clearly. Creb studied his tiny brother closely, then turned to Avra and asked: "Will he be leader one day?" He was becoming conscious of the fact that his mother's mate was the leader of the clan and, while he still wasn't entirely sure what a leader did, he knew it was a very important job. And he also knew it meant Vorg was a very important man.

"Yes, he will," Avra gestured. "But not for a long time. He's got a lot to learn yet and you and Vorg must teach him." Since Creb had been born to the mate of a leader, he should have the memories for leadership, just as she had memories for healing. And helping to prepare his younger brother to take Vorg's place one day was the closest he would ever get to becoming leader himself.

"Yes, mother," Creb signed. "I'll teach him and so will Vorg."


It was the day before the naming day for Avra's baby was due to be held. Vorg had gone to talk to Breeg and let him know the name he had chosen for the newest addition to his clan, the boy who would one day take his place. Avra, still confined to the hearth, sat rocking the baby in her arms and Uba had taken charge of Creb. The old woman was sitting on her sleeping furs with her small grandson beside her, engrossed in the stories she was telling him.

"Tell me another," Creb signed after a while.

Uba hesitated. She had already told him several Clan legends, including a few she had dredged up from the deep recesses of her memory, even though she had never seen anyone tell them. But Creb was still in the mood for a story, so she decided to tell him one from her own personal experience. "Did I ever tell you about the man of the Others?"

Creb shook his head. "What's a man of the Others?" he asked.

"The Others are people," Uba gestured. "A different kind of people, taller than Clan people. Their foreheads are higher than ours, they don't have brow ridges and there's a growth on their jaws that we don't have." She pointed to her jaw which, like that of all Clan people, was chinless and forward-thrusting. Then, she continued her story.

"It happened a long time ago, before your mother was born." Uba couldn't say how long ago because Clan people found numbers a difficult abstraction and keeping track of time even more so. The latter was a skill only mog-urs were allowed to learn and it could take them years to master it; Uba, as a female, could never be taught such sacrosanct knowledge. "I was a young medicine woman, who had just taken over from the medicine-woman-before-me," she went on. "One evening, we were gathered around our fires when a man staggered into the cave. I could see right away that he was one of the Others, even though I'd only ever seen his kind from a distance. And I could also see that he was hurt."

"He passed out just inside the cave entrance, so I went to tell the leader. In those days, the leader was a man named Grib. I thought he might not let me help a man of the Others, but he had two of his hunters bring the man into the cave where I could treat him. I didn't know if Clan medicine would work on one of the Others, but I felt I had to try."

"What was wrong with him?" Creb asked.

"His arm was badly broken - I think he must have fallen and hurt it. I gave him some medicine to make him sleep and set his arm to help it mend properly. It took him longer than I expected to wake up from the sleeping medicine, but his arm healed without any problems, so I knew Clan medicine would work on the Others. Afterwards, he stayed with the clan for a while, learned our ways; he even learned some of our language. And he went hunting with the other men."

"What was his name?"

"He had a strange name," Uba signed. "I couldn't say it the way he did - no-one in the clan could. Denrec was as close as I could get. Anyway, he lived with us for a while, until it was time for the next Clan Gathering. Then, he left us and went back to his own people."


"The boy's name is Brun," Breeg gestured as he used the red ochre paste to draw a line from the baby's undeveloped brow ridges to the tip of his nose. Avra repeated the name, feeling a sense of pride that Vorg had chosen it for her second son. Like Creb, Brun was named after a former leader of their clan. Unlike Creb, Brun would be able to follow in the footsteps of his namesake. The rest of the clan began to file past, each of them saying the baby's name out loud.

Vorg was first. "Brun," he said, a look of paternal pride in his eyes as he looked down at the future leader.

Next came Uba, the old medicine woman coming forward to acknowledge Avra's second son. "Brun."

Creb limped over to his mother and younger brother. "Brun," he said. He was the youngest member of the clan to file past. Aba and Noog were still nursing and, by tradition, only those who were past their weaning year took part in this ritual.

The rest of the clan filed past in turn. Last of all came Inga, the childless woman from another clan, the woman who had the lowest rank of anyone in the clan. "Brun," she said, then quickly withdrew. She always came forward to acknowledge each new addition - it would be unlucky to do otherwise - but, for her, each naming ceremony was tinged with sadness.