Drakav and Kieran stood over a blood drenched bit of dirt. Nearby was the carcass of a cave lion that had been picked over by scavengers, leaving little left.

"He couldn't have done this. Not by himself," Kieran said.

Drakav was unconvinced. He had faced Broud in hand to hand combat, and he had wound up running from the fierce, ancient demon. The memory of it still shamed him. He squatted down by the bones, picking up one of the scattered neckbones and studying it carefully. "See here," Drakav said, his voice harsh. "There are nicks from a weapon. And here," he said, lifting one of the long leg bones. "The meat was scraped away, butchered."

Kieran frowned in disbelief, but inwardly he was relieved. He could not imagine gentle Kyani torn apart by a cave lion, the very thought made him sick. "But if they fought it-if he fought it-where is the sign? The blood has stained the earth, but where are the tracks?"

"The storm would have washed it all away, Kieran!" Drakav snapped angrily. He threw the bones down in disgust. "Along with their track home."

"Maybe they're still camped by the river to the sea."

Drakav grunted harshly, tossing his gold hair from his eyes in an arrogant gesture. "I doubt even those animals would be stupid enough to linger after the sport we had with them."

"Maybe we should go home, then. It's almost time to move to the winter camp." Kieran sighed heavily, wishing he had not come on this evil errand. Kyani had made her choice, hadn't she? She could have begged. She could have let them kill the demon and come back to her father, her people. "Maybe we should just leave them alone."

Drakav gave an angry shout. "And let him have her? Do you know- Can you imagine- Such foulness- Such a foul girl!" he sputtered with fury. "She must pay. He must pay! Or do you want him to come after us again, this time with more of his beast people with him?"

Kieran, the weaker of the two, turned away submissively, walking up the mountain. As he did, he had a good view of the steppes behind them and the circular path they had taken to track Kyani and the man of the Old Ones. But then, his eyes caught something in the distance, something hanging over the dark smudge on the horizon that was their forested summer camp. "Drakav! Come look!"

Drakav sprung up, his face still contorted with twisted rage at the thought of Kyani and the demon, together as mates. Hoping that Kieran had sighted them, thirsty for their blood, he leaped up the rocky slope. But when he reached the top he saw that Kieran was not looking down on two small figures crossing the steppes. Kieran's gaze was out in the distance, towards their camp, where an ominous plume of black smoke rose into the sky.

Broud and his three hunters set out early on the trail of a herd of bison that were lumbering across a low valley between two thickly wooded mountains. They had just taken advantage of one of the benefits of the potential cave sight: a nearby jutting promontory that offered a panoramic view of the lands below and beyond, exposing whatever animals-and enemies-that might be passing through.

As if sent by Ursus himself, the bison had followed the tall grasses into the perfect trap. From Broud's lofty position he had watched as the animals had come nearly single file along a wide, shallow but swift stream that ran down the mountainside and between two tall cliffs to the steppes beyond. Broud was especially fond of this narrow passage, for it was one of the only obvious ways from the lowlands up to the cave he was considering. Outlanders could only creep in slowly, in full sight, and they would not know the mountain paths that could give them escape. For the bison it was all but hopeless; they were not agile enough to bolt up the rocky, forested slopes. If Broud chose to block the passage at the northwest end, they could only race in a wide helpless circle.

Yet that would make them more dangerous, and Broud could not afford to lose men. It was a novice mistake he had made hunting the Others. He had trapped them as he would trap a mammoth, and they had fought all the more viciously for it. Broud was especially eager for today's hunt to go off safe and well, for it was the hunt that would signal the spirits' approval or disapproval of Broud's chosen cave. Broud took it as a fortuitous omen that he was hunting the same beast whose killing had made him a man seven years before. He could almost feel Brun at his side today, as the hunters crept down the mountain's flank under the blue shadows of tall pines.

They reached a narrow bank, and Broud signaled to the men to come closer. He had his strategy. He would not circle around to the northwest, giving the creatures no chance for escape once they stampeded. The narrowing passage would pose a nearly equal danger left open, though. The animals would press closer together, rushing for freedom. Cutting the herd would have to be done with lightning precision, and well before they reached the gap in the mountains.

It was Broud's choice to select the animal, but he was well experienced by now. And after taking a cave lion down single-handedly, the inner turmoil of doubt and fear of failure that had so often tormented Broud was utterly scorched from his mind. Broud was cooler even than Brun had been, when the day was Brun's seven years ago. Broud knew already that this cave was his, that it was perfect for his purpose of protecting his people from another attack. He was ready to make the final test. He had pure confidence in his own skill as a hunter, and in his fellow hunters. Broud was ready to offer it all up to the spirits, sure that they would find Broud and his choices worthy. While still under the cover of the pines he raised his free hand and spoke with silent gestures, imparting the strategy to Grod, Goov, and Droog.

They fanned out, staying in each other's sight line but far enough away so that each man had a fair distance to cover on his own. Broud now set himself to examining the herd. This could take a great deal of time. He was far enough above them to have a view of the entire herd slowly lumbering past, yet close enough to smell their sharp, thick scent and hear the low, throaty rumbles they made as they searched for sweeter grass. There were big males on the outside, animals that could mangle a hunter with one swing of their massive horned heads. Beyond them he could see smaller females and their calves, only a few moons old. The best time for bison was in the early spring just when the sap began to rise, when females were heavily pregnant. Now, the slowest animals were the calves and the old or weak. Broud didn't want a calf; nor did he want an old, wiry muscled animal that Kyani and the other women would have to pound mightily just to make it a little less tough to chew. Signaling the other men to wait behind in their places, he decided to take time to roam a bit, to find a better view. Perhaps there was a young animal that he could trick into running the wrong way, or an injured animal that would be slow to run.

The heavily muscled hunter passed through the pines without making a sound. This was his territory, his comfort zone, and his feet were light on the rocky soil padded with fallen needles. He wound his way slowly through the tall, thick trees, keeping his eyes on the herd even though there were glorious sights to see in the mountainous paradise. The deep evergreens were nearly black in the early morning light and they perfumed the air with a rich but fresh aroma that enlivened Broud's senses. In the distance was the gentle melody of falling water, and as Broud worked his way along the mountainside he found not one but two thin waterfalls, one cascading down terraces of rocky banks, one plunging like a delicate silver rope from a craggy cliff hundreds of feet above his head, pouring into a crystalline pool bordered with gentle, rounded granite boulders and thick clutches of massive green ferns. On the far edge of the pool a doe and her spotted fawn lapped up a morning drink, undisturbed by Broud's slinking gait.

Broud moved through the shadows, leaving his men farther and farther behind. His eyes picked over the herd on the valley floor with a deadly mixture of trained precision and deeply embedded instinct. There were four who caught his eye for varying reasons, two of whom he dismissed as too sick to make a fitting meal for his people's cave feast. The other two he poured all his polished attention on, seeking out their individual characteristics and noting the meandering path of their grazing. Both were young and foolish animals, shunning the safety of the herd to greedily seek the taller grass that grew around the rocky feet of the mountain. Broud crouched down for a moment to study them, spear in hand.

The sound was so faint at first that his subconscious almost dismissed it. But then, a cracking fallen branch, the crunch of dried orange pine needles, alerted Broud to the presence of another creature above him on the mountain slope. He stayed down and thought of the doe and her fawn moving through the forest, but the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose and he remembered the cave lion that had stalked him two weeks back.

The sound came again, and Broud's heart began to beat a little harder. He strained to hear and was doubly alarmed when the footfalls of the intruder did not beat a one-two-three-four pattern, but a distinctly human gait. Immediately he thought of the chalk-bleached faces and the screams of the demons who had murdered Oga and Brun. His thigh ached where one of the fell creatures had slashed him during his revenge attack. He remembered the sense of being stalked over the open steppe, a sense just like the one that now rose from his guts to the tips of his fingers, curling around his spear.

They had found him at last.

Broud stood up and lunged around in one deft motion, swinging his spear high over his head, ready to impale the man of the Others who had dared to follow him into this high mountain retreat.

Instead of the chalk-bleached skull face, he brought his spear down on the chest of the six year old boy Brac. With a savage growl, Broud yanked his arm back, the hardened point of the spear a breath away from the boy's heaving chest. "Brac!" he shouted. Then, not wanting to alert the bison and ruin the hunt-if it was not ruined already-Broud demanded in a low voice and harsh gestures, "What are you doing here? What are you thinking, sneaking up on me like an enemy, like a predator? I almost ran you through!"

The boy gasped, wide eyed. He had dropped the miniature spear in his hand and now stood stunned with terror at the primal rage he had witnessed in the face of his dead mother's mate.

"Speak," Broud demanded, furious.

"I-I wanted to help you," Brac stammered, frightened. "You said you needed hunters. I can hunt! I can be a man! I can help you." The boy became more emphatic with each gesture. "I can help our people, like you."

Broud's rage fled as swiftly as it came, though his body took longer to cool than his mind. The unneeded adrenaline made the leader quiver slightly. "You're too young, Brac. I was eleven when I made my first kill. You are seven. You could have ruined the hunt for us."

"Oh," Brac said, abashed. He cast his eyes down, humiliated.

Broud sighed, and put his hand on the boy's slender shoulders. "You have much to learn, but you are brave already to come down here by yourself. If you promise you won't make a sound-no matter what happens-then I will let you watch us."

Joy returned to the boy's face. Broud shook his head in disbelief, but he brought the boy down a ways to a boulder where he would have a view of the hunt. For a moment man and boy watched the herd, which remained undisturbed, their left hands on their hips and their right hands holding up their spears, the twin image of each other. Broud then returned to his work, wondering where Oga's son got his nerve.

Though the women and Zoug-who was the only left behind to guard the women and children alone because of the importance of the hunt and the safety of their location-had been frantic over Brac's disappearance, the hunt went off well and everyone was thrilled that the spirits had sanctioned the new cave. Kyani thumped her hand to her heart in relief to see Broud returning dusty and sweaty and bloody but unharmed, dragging and carrying a bison with his men, with young Brac trotting proudly beside his father. Once the bison was set down Kyani ran to Broud and nearly flew into his arms. Only her perception of Clan etiquette stopped her. Instead she looked over the felled bison and said, with elegant, practiced gestures and soft Clan words, "Broud kills all beasts."

He would have grinned if it had been his way. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close for just a minute, only until he caught his breath, the most affection he dared to show before his people in the light of day. He then gave Kyani a rough little push, purely playful, sending her over to where the women had begun digging a large pit at the mouth of Broud's new cave. She smothered her laughter and went on to her work.

The following morning enormous cuts of bison were laid into the pit. Kyani had been especially anxious to make a stew, and she had studied the language hard so that she would have the occasion to ask Broud if she might now take over some cooking. A typical Clan man, he had grunted and shrugged her off while inwardly glowing at her interest. Now she stirred a bubbling hide sack of meat, herbs and root vegetables carefully, inhaling the rich scents of the broth. She closed her eyes only for a minute and imagined her father lying in his shelter, waiting for her to finish cooking. She would have to trust in the Great Mother that her father was well. She couldn't grieve anymore, because she believed firmly that she had found her true mate and her destiny. Broud's soul spoke at once to her desire for security, and to the inner joyful wildness in her, both to the fragile girl who huddled behind a strong man and to the free primitive woman who spun laughing and shrieking in the first rain of the season.

The Clan was anxious for the ceremony, and Kyani sensed that something extraordinary would happen on this day. There seemed to be a whole series of rituals connected with settling into a new cave, and Kyani wished to learn everything she could about the religious life of her mate. Uba had gone off with Goov, the holy man, and the rest of the men lingered around Broud in animated discussion. Broud's sons, left out of the men's conversations, were put to work by Broud's flame haired mother Ebra but they were rowdy boys and who were easily distracted, flinging stones at small animals and clashing sticks with each other, trying to best each other. Kyani did not know that this was a new game for Clan boys, one that disturbed the elders. The trauma of the attack bled out of them in this way: they made sport of attacking each other, knowing somewhere in their consciousness that their prey was no longer restricted to the four-legged kind, and the days of peace were over. Eventually Aga abandoned the roast she was tending to collect Groob. She set him down with a pile of stones, hammers and chunks of flint that Droog, the toolmaker, found unsuitable for professional use. Ebra reprimanded Brac and Grev and set them to gathering wood for the fires that would burn late into the night. Only Durc, Uba's adopted son, was left alone. Slowly, he wandered over to Kyani's hearth, staring at her over the stew with his unsettling, mournful eyes.

It was Durc's eyes that bothered Kyani the most. Obviously in any small band such as this, no one was too distantly related. Even among her own kind, blood was strongly shared among all the members, and this was a source of pride. But Durc's eyes were unsettlingly familiar. They struck hard at her heart, the way her lover's eyes did. They were Broud's eyes, and she knew it. But Ayla was unmated, and women did not have sexual relations until they had a mate among Kyani's people. Yet in Kyani's band, medicine women and their acolytes often handled the initiation of boys before their mating, because harmony between mated couples was highly valued, and successful and pleasurable intimacy was essential to that. Perhaps Ayla was a medicine woman. But then, Broud's prior innocence for all but his own sexual enjoyment proved that there was no such concern in this tribe. Besides, Broud-Kyani was sure-disliked the boy; and there was no good reason for that, unless he had greatly disliked Durc's mother.

Or perhaps she was going too far. Maybe Durc was Broud's nephew, or some other relation, the child of some relative he hadn't gotten on well with. Maybe it was a chance of fate that the dark gaze was the same between man and boy. And maybe it meant nothing that she saw the same demons in the boy's soul that she had first seen in Broud's, before he trusted her.

Kyani motioned Durc to her, careful to show her smile in her eyes and not on her lips. The boy crept closer, extremely wary of Broud's beloved, intended mate. "Durc hungry?"

Durc nodded. Kyani scooped some of the savory broth into the bone spoon and blew carefully on it, testing the temperature on her own lips before offering it to the child. He drank, watching her with frightened, angry eyes the whole time. But the broth warmed his belly and the taste was delicious. Kyani thought it was missing a certain spice, and she motioned to Durc to retrieve it for her. She set the boy to small tasks, but though he was helpful, he was slow to warm to her. Poor boy, Kyani thought again. His mother's death has damaged his spirit. She was now the leader's mate, or something very like it. Kyani would have to take especial care, as the years went by, to draw the boy out, and seek and nurture his talents. He liked to help her, but when left to his own, she noticed that he chose to sit and listen to the whispers of the wind, as if he was waiting for the spirit world to send him some word or comfort. She did not notice Broud's eyes following the scene, a remote and unsettled look on his face.

Uba reappeared to collect Durc then, her hand over her growing belly. Kyani stood and asked, "Uba not well? Hurt? Sick?"

Uba shrugged and gestured, "Always. It doesn't matter. Did Durc eat?"

"Some stew," Kyani told her. She felt a flush of pleasure each time she had one of these small conversations with a Clan member. Of course with Broud, they spoke with their bodies, with their passion and their eyes and their souls. But just yesterday the most abstract discussion had taken place, when Ebra had explained, as they dug the great pit before the cave and lined it with stone, that the pit was for roasting meat as well as for providing a fire to keep predators away from the cave. Kyani had felt a thrill of excitement as the gestures and words locked together in her mind. She thought that the Clan language was infinitely more passionate and expressive than her own, which relied on spoken word alone. Her own people were excellent hunters as well, but both Clan language and customs were derived from a far more patriarchal, hunting-dominated society than Kyani's; a society that had been shaped by the hard Ice Age environment and the massive herds of cold-weather game that would spook and trample men at a careless sound. Though her own life had played out in the cold European mountains and plains, Kyani's people had done the bulk of their evolving in a lush tropical paradise where thick fruits dripped from the trees in every season of the year and men could afford to spend far more time pondering delicate abstractions and inventing new toys than scratching out a living. It was the Ice Age with its drying conditions that had long ago driven Kyani's kind out of their tropical African paradise, which had gradually turned into a brutal Saharan desert. Now at the end of the Ice Ages, or rather on the verge of the great intermission, the Sahara was shrinking and dampening again, the great Nile River was filling on monsoon rains, and even the freshwater sea that moaned beneath Broud's mountain retreat was rising towards a day when the salty waters of a Southern Sea that would later be called Mediterranean would embrace it and create one of the richest regions for trade and seafaring that mankind would ever know. But none of this meant a thing to Kyani, who, enduring a crash emersion course in Clan language, was finally experiencing the rapid clicking of her powerful and unique mind which would allow her to communicate fully with her beloved new mate and her new Clan.

Kyani was quite caught up with her new life, but something about the positioning of Uba's hands on her ripening belly struck a deep chord in the young Cro-Magnon woman. Three nights ago, the moon had swollen to full. Kyani's lips fell softly apart as she looked at Uba's pregnant body and realized that her own time to bleed should soon be upon her, and yet she had felt no warning cramps. She touched her own flat stomach softly, hopefully, a sign which Uba did not miss. Kyani took a sharp breath and looked back up at the Clan medicine woman. She motioned to the woman's round belly and said, in her own tongue, "Baby. What is the word for baby?"

Uba gestured to Durc to stay put. She sat down carefully beside Kyani and gave the Clan word. Kyani's totem had not yet been identified, but the foreign woman was seemingly indicating that her totem, whatever it was, had been defeated, or that she was hopeful that it soon would be defeated. Uba had little doubt whose potent spirit had won or would win the battle; the entire Clan had heard a disturbing battle between them only a few nights ago.

"Broud's baby," Kyani murmured dreamily in Clan language, thinking along a similar but profoundly different line. She offered a small smile as she prayed inwardly to the Great Mother that she might soon bear Broud a son or daughter. A daughter, Kyani thought, let me have a daughter to mate with one of the other two little boys.

Uba raised her brows, thinking that the girl was quite a romantic fool to assume she knew which spirit would defeat hers, even though Kyani was only ever in close proximity to Broud. The women spent only a few more moments together, before Uba took Durc and went to seek out Goov. She caught the medicine man at his work and asked, "Has Ki-ani's totem spirit revealed itself to you yet?"

Goov frowned. "No, woman. Why do you ask? What concern is it of yours?"

Uba reverted to formal speech and said, "This woman thinks the mog-ur ought to consider it, and soon."

Goov flustered and admitted, "I consider it all the time as Broud requested. Why?"

Uba made a sweet noncommittal gesture, saying mysteriously, "We are so lucky now, with the new cave. We wouldn't want any unmated woman to fall for a child."

Goov furrowed his brow. "Has she told you that she has?"

"This woman sees it coming, and fast." Uba waited for Goov, disturbed, to wave her off in dismissal. She took Durc by the hand and returned to her hearth, to prepare a potent hallucinogen for the men and a milder datura tea for the women.

Goov had spent a great deal of time watching Kyani, though he was ever careful not to let Broud see this. The jealous leader prized his new woman as highly as his own life, as evidenced by the thoughtless way Broud told him that he had flown at the cave lion as well as his constant attention to her. Now, in the short break before the cave ceremony, Goov watched as the two walked together, set against the dramatic backdrop of white-capped mountains, their heads tilted close though they shared very little speech. For a moment Goov considered how perfectly fitting Broud's wooly rhinoceros totem was. Though thick skinned and careless of its own pain when wounded, the animal was otherwise unpredictable and high tempered. The spirit of the creature was known among holy men to bring high emotional sensitivity to those who followed its path. More of a loner than the other herd animals, Broud's totem was vicious when provoked or deterred from its chosen path. Goov narrowed his eyes, remembering also what Creb had once told him. Though seemingly stubborn, the spirit of the woolly rhinoceros was actually keen for new paths. Certainly, Broud's totem had some strange plan in mind. The traditional minded young leader had, in a few short days, laid down new laws for the Clan regarding their hunting and new qualifications for their cave site; changes which would Brun would have spent weeks considering. Perhaps Broud's rashness was necessary for all of their survival. Unlike customary Clan leaders, Broud was reaching his majority in a time of rapid change. Creb had been filled with despair at the coming of this new age, and as a child Broud had feared the new winds so strongly that Ayla, the symbol of the changing times, had easily pushed Broud to a level of violence that was considered unworthy of a man; just as his totem animal would attack and gore any creature big or small with such ferocity that many hunters were loathe to tangle with it. Goov sensed, though, that Broud was right in his intense hatred for the Others. His own visions had shown him two lanky trackers on the steppes with bleached, skeletal faces and eyes filled with evil intentions. Goov had no doubt that they were out there and he thought that they had moved just in time. The other men had secretly doubted their new leader and longed for Brun, who had been slow to act and who carefully considered all paths. But Brun had never been hunted himself, as Broud had been both in his nightmares and now in reality.

Goov wondered what Brun would think of Broud now, going out to kill men of the Others yet returning with one of their women who he was obviously infatuated with. Broud had loved Oga, but Goov had never seen his leader and his friend so twisted up over a woman. It would have amused Goov was he not so sure that Ursus was at work, though the mighty Guardian of the Clan would not yet reveal his true purpose to Goov.

Goov turned his attention to Kyani. He could not help but admit, like all the other Clan men, that this girl was almost frighteningly attractive. Her facial features were delicate as Ayla's had been, but Ayla had been sharp and chiseled, with a square face, wide cheeks, and a slight cleft chin. Kyani was full of soft ovals and smoothed lines that were a token of femininity to both races of men. She was small and slender with a waist that all the Clan men had imagined, more than once, fitting their hands around completely. Yet had Broud not said that the girl was fierce when he had been threatened by her people? Only Goov knew the full story of the pair's meeting. Still, Kyani's first lesson had been never again to touch a killing tool, and Broud was certain that the girl would obey him. The other men wondered about this, but Goov had seen it himself: while Ayla had struggled with the notion of a man's dominance, Kyani seemed to enjoy paying the proper respect to Broud. It delighted the young woman to please the leader. In the short while that she had been with the Clan, Goov had watched Kyani adapt fluidly to Clan ways. She was easy tempered and changeable, and though she seemed to sense her own high value, it didn't harden her the way it would many women. Goov thought that Kyani, once fully trained, would make a good mate for a Clan leader. The attractive, supple-bodied girl, with her pale skin and luxurious black hair, had a truly feminine dignity about her. Goov stood up and walked away from the Clan. There was still time before the required preparations were made, and he needed to consult with the spirits before giving full weight to the image that was forming in his mind.

Twilight fell. Broud beckoned Kyani to the mouth of the cave, where the others waited. It was a smaller mouth than their old cave had possessed, which served Broud's purpose better. But inside was just as vaulted and wide, and in the back, there was also an additional chamber for the skull of Ursus to rest, a sacred looking space that was full of stalactites and stalagmites. A small pool was deep in the corner of this room, fed by a stream that disappeared under the back wall. It would serve for emergency water, if ever needed.

Now Broud held Kyani's hips from behind as he stood before the women, considering carefully though he knew the order would certainly change after tonight. Goov had given him a small nod only moments ago, indicating that Broud's great desire could happen tonight as he had hoped. "Ebra, Uba, Ki-ani, Uka," he decided, pushing his new woman in third position. He nodded to himself, and then backed off to take his place as first among the men. Kyani sensed that the positioning was very important, indicative of rank, and she was glad that Broud possessed the sensitivity not to place her before his mother Ebra, the boss of the women.

She watched as the older man Grod came forward, nursing a smoking coal wrapped in a protective hide carrying torch stuffed full of dried grasses. Earlier in the day, before the delicious feast they had shared, Kyani had helped the women dig another, smaller fire pit inside the cave. It was now piled high with wood and kindling. Grod's approach was solemn and ceremonial, and he knelt with reverence to start the new fire. Kyani sensed all the energies of the Clan focusing on the sparking of this first fire, released by a soft sigh as the fire caught and pungent smoke began to rise up to the high ceiling of the cave. Kyani drew her breath when light filled the chamber. There were stalactites rising in the corners, reaching to the stalagmites that reached down to glistening points where over the millennia, driplets of water had pushed through the mountain above, leaving shining deposits of calcium on the ever growing rock formations. Someone had already entered the cave and sectioned areas off with rocks, including a wide section near the mouth of the cave half-screened by more of the giant, gorgeous conical formations. She recognized Broud's thick, sumptuous furs laid out beside a stone circle, and his spears and tools carefully ordered in the shadows beyond. This place was to be Kyani's home now, and she was amazed and pleased.

They set about lighting the smaller fires of their hearths, until the entire cave glowed with that ultimate symbol of human life, controlled fire. Only then did Kyani realize that the men had slipped away. Ebra caught her eyes quickly, and motioned Kyani to sit near the central fire with the boys Brac and Grev. It was then that Kyani saw the apparition at the back of the cave, a creature half-bear, half-man, a creature that could control fire and make it dance and fall like stars from the sky. After a moment she realized that it was Goov, under the possession of the spirits, his face blooded with red ochre, the skull of the giant cave bear enclosing his own face. It was something out of a nightmare, or a vision, and Kyani drew Grev closer to her automatically. The young boy was trembling. Brac sat up taller, his curious dark eyes wide. Across the cave, sitting alone, Kyani saw the boy Durc staring hard at the holy man, far too keen a look on his face than a toddler should ever wear. Kyani thought it was a mistake to leave him alone, but she could not get up and bring the child over. Then the drumming began then, as Zoug beat out a hard rhythm and the men leapt into sight.

The Clan was transported as the three men re-enacted their hunt, minus Goov, with such thrilling detail and precision that every spectator felt themselves drawn in to the fatal drama of the cave hunt. Kyani's smile became wide, for Broud was watching her, playing to her above all others, both enthralling her and telling her in the only way he could about a part of his life that was closed off to her. The energy was wild and celebratory, overseen by the holy man standing over the fire, overseen, too, by something more, an unseen source of energy that Kyani suddenly, with a shiver down her spine, came to recognize as the ancient, frightening, and powerful spirits of the Clan.

After the captivating climax Broud came to join her, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his throat. When he squatted beside her, Kyani searched carefully for the words and told him softly, "I did not know: Broud is a storyteller as well." She repeated this in her language, because her word carried so much more of what she meant to say; a bard, even a sort of shaman, one who moves others with words and impassioned acting.

"Much you don't know," he said gruffly, his eyes dancing in the firelight. He fell quiet then, mirroring the silence that had suddenly fallen over the festive ceremony.

From the fire, the holy man called to Kyani. Shocked, she looked to Broud, who nodded. He rose with her, brought her forward to the frightening looking mog-ur. He remembered his own sharp fear when he had stood before Creb years ago, and he hovered close to Kyani as if seeking to guard her from the terrifying and powerful spirits who ruled their world. When Goov spoke, his words and gestures carried an odd resonance. Goov had already been transported by a heavy narcotic drink, and tonight he did not speak for himself, but for Ursus.

"Woman of the Others! Tonight, you are born anew to this world, born into the Clan."

Kyani's lips parted, her eyes locked on the holy man. He went on to speak of Ursus, not for her benefit-she could not follow him very well-but for the benefit of the Clan who would have to accept this woman, along with accepting the change that was slowly but relentlessly coming to their ancient and ordered world. Once Goov's intentions were announced and the Clan prepared, the mog-ur did what had been done for Ayla so long ago. He adopted her into the Clan, throwing aside a part of his heavy bearskins to reveal a pot of red ochre mixed with the fat of the cave bear. He drew a line carefully from her hairline down to the tip of her nose, anointing her as a newborn Clan female.

"Double-faced spirit of the ermine, you have spoken to announce your guardianship over this woman Ki-ani, who like you, changes skins to walk in two worlds. We ask you to watch over her always, and guide her on her journey through this life."

Broud glowed with pleasure. Goov had not included him in the decision or informed him what totem had presented itself to the mog-ur. Broud thought that the luxurious coated ermine was a fitting totem for the young woman. The ermine was a highly prized creature of beauty and nobility, soft and small yet strong, a carnivore itself, deeply brave for its delicate stature. And as Goov said, the creature had two faces. In the summer it was a gorgeous sable brown, but in the winter it revealed itself in an even more stunning presentation, the pure white of moonlight with a solid black tip on its tail. Quite fitting for a woman raised Other and yet born anew to the Clan; her totem would help the people understand how she could be raised so, and still be a good Clan woman. Even Kyani's coloring matched the creature's winter coat: her flawless ivory skin that was seemingly lit from within, and her luxurious black mane that tumbled to her hips.

Goov made a small, quick gesture to Broud, who frowned a moment because he had never seen a woman marked with the ermine's symbol. Yet though Broud might argue or order Goov the hunter, he would not now question his mog-ur. He stepped before Kyani, meeting her eyes as he slowly loosened the shoulder stays of the hasty Ibex hide dress she had not even completed, but worn to the special ceremony anyway. Kyani drew a sharp breath as Broud let her dress spill down to her hips. Broud admired her tiny waist and round, firm breasts before gently taking her about the hips and turning her back to Goov, so that she faced the anxious Clan. His jealousy ignited as he heard a few quick gasps from the men, who had never gazed upon such a delicate manifestation of female beauty; until he realized that soon there would be no chance any other man could touch his prize. Kyani's own breath came quick and hard, and she kept her eyes lowered to the floor, her bright violet gaze hidden by her long black lashes. Broud gathered up her soft, thick black hair and pulled it over her left shoulder, exposing her smooth back to the mog-ur. He backed away then, content to gaze on his woman as she stood humble and shivering but brave and still, her back to the frighteningly arrayed holy man. She felt a cool touch on her right shoulder blade, and made out what he painted in red ochre: a small open circle, and then beneath it, on an angle, a straight line; and then, beneath the line and on the opposite side of the open circle, he pressed a dot of paint, a closed circle. Slowly, with all the majesty and mystery that Creb had taught him, Goov paced around Kyani. He stood before her and hung the amulet that Ebra had made that day in secret around Kyani's neck. Subtly, quietly, he leaned down and murmured, "Welcome, Ki-ani."

Now the mog-ur motioned to Broud, who was expecting it. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Broud stepped back beside Kyani and murmured, "Sit down, here."

Curious, Kyani lowered herself to the floor of the new cave, just before the thick fur wraps that covered Broud's strong calves. She didn't want to look up, but couldn't help it when Broud removed the wrap over his chest to reveal the deep, hooked slashes that had been cut into his flesh seven years before. The holy man now produced another bowl, and with yellow ochre carefully duplicated the ermine sign over the wicked black scars. And then, over that, the double hooks were traced again, blurring the ermine symbol. Kyani's face flushed as she understood, and tears blurred her sight. She bowed her head, realizing that not only had she been accepted, she was at her own mating ceremony, which had been tied to the cave ceremony. Kyani felt that it was a great honor. She strained to pick out the words as Goov said, "Spirit of Wooly Rhinoceros, totem of Broud, leader of the Clan, you have defeated the Spirit of Ermine, totem of Ki-ani. Broud, do you accept this woman as your mate?"

"Forever," Broud said. He reached down and brushed his fingers over Kyani's bare shoulder and she looked up, and Broud saw that there was water again in her sunset eyes, though there was no misery on her face but a deep and profound joy, and honor. Broud took her slender fingers in his hand and lifted his mate from the ground, and she did not guard her smile as he pulled her into his arms. Several Clan members gasped at this, even as the rest were learning to expect anything from their leader. They did not realize or even understand the depths of Broud's emotion: he had cared for Oga, very much, but Broud knew on this night that Kyani was the woman chosen for him by Ursus Himself, and the powerful desire he felt to hold and touch his new mate was nothing short of what was due such a gift.

Goov had determined that their crossing of the steppes was isolation enough for the pair, who had already been living as mates. Broud took his mate away from the ceremony, which lulled to an intermission as the mog-ur and the medicine woman prepared the next part. And soon enough, Broud told Kyani to rejoin the women. She looked about for Uba, but it was Ebra who again made a place for her. Uba came out then, naked and painted. She first made the men's drink, and then she offered a drink from a bowl of strongly flavored tea to each woman. Yet another brew was offered to the children, and in only moments, Ebra lifted the groggy boy Brac and Kyani picked up a sleeping Grev, and the women carried them to Broud's new hearth. There were four thick sleeping rolls around the dancing fire: one large set of furs that Broud and Kyani would share, one each for the little boys, and another, removed a ways, where Ebra would now live. They were a family now. For the first time in her life, Kyani had a full family. Ebra caught Kyani as she went to rejoin the group. Kyani bowed her head before the tough older woman who had shown such dislike for her in the first days.

"Ki-ani," Ebra said sternly, and the younger woman looked up in trepidation. She watched and listened closely, as Ebra spoke quite slowly for Kyani to understand. "You please my son, Ki-ani. That is not easy to do. You honor him. You are as a daughter to me now. Do you understand my words?"

Kyani bowed her head again. She had caught but one in three words of what Ebra had spoken, but with the older woman's tone, it was enough for her. "Thank you, Ebra."

The edges were beginning to blur in Kyani's mind. When she returned to the center fire the men had vanished again, and Uba was beginning to make her own drum sing. Before Kyani's eyes the women enlivened, young and old. They cast away their wraps and swayed to the pumping rhythm, and as the drug worked its way into their blood they began a wild dance. Ona and Ovra swung their hips together erotically, Ika and Uka stomped and spun to the hard beat. Even stoic Ebra, with her hair of ice and flame, began a dance of intricate steps that was purely magical to witness. Kyani had never beheld the Clan women in all their feminine power, on full display as it was here. She was reminded of the dances Myriana and her acolyte did for the Great Mother, and though the Clan's greatest spirit was Ursus, Kyani for the first time witnessed that Clan women had a true and ancient spirituality of their own which certainly must please the Mother. Kyani watched as an outsider for a long while before finally, the spirits of the Clan seized her and spun her into her own reverie. She danced out her wild joy for having found Broud and been so honored to be made his mate on such an auspicious night. She danced her grief for her lost father-not knowing he had horribly died in Sara's fire-letting her sorrow and longing out at last. She danced her prayers for a child, a daughter of mixed spirits, and offered her dance to Ursus and the Great Mother both.

In the deep back of the cave, the men who appeared to be sitting very still were on their own journey. Goov was not yet as skilled as Creb and perhaps could never be: that time had passed for the Clan. But still, he was well trained and capable, and he led them, as always, through a journey that began in the origins of all life. The men of the Clan rejoiced in their deep and ancient connection to the cold northern earth that had shaped them, their bodies melting into the rich loamy soil, springing up into the tallest of ancient trees, pulled physically through the countless generations of men wild with the hunt, full of pure raw joy. It was this deep communion that gave each man their strongest sense of self, along with an ecstatic bliss, but suddenly Broud found himself torn away from the others. Goov, the leader now on this spiritual quest, felt the violent tear but did nothing as he sensed that a will greater than his own had just broken through the mental link of the men.

Broud, suddenly, was alone, and around him he felt the horror of death. He felt the disgusting rotting of flesh and then worse, a complete emptiness. His entire being rebelled with all the violence that his spirit could summon but it was utterly useless. The old nightmare crept back in, slowly at first, but then wildly swinging, cruelly pulling the Clan leader into its most terrifying dimensions. And there, in the middle of it all, the image of a woman shimmered together. It was Ayla and it was a goddess, a powerful goddess as bright and gold as the burning sun, who spun around a roaring fire, tearing spirits from the sky as she wove her deft magic with each intricate step. Her laughter burned Broud with an intense, blistering heat and with her hands she unleashed dozens, then hundreds of bleach-faced demons who swung at first strange spears and then other weapons, small spears thrown with the bent bows of trees and carved horns of great beasts, and then other things for which Broud had no understanding at all. Their attack was all the worse because they would not give him honest battle at all, they would not even see him; they were painted like skulls but he was no more than a ghost, choked off by their evil intentions from food and earth and even breath.

His body began to die as the demons worked their will over him, as the potent drugs ravaged his body and mind together. He felt himself pulled into his own earth, his beloved land, but it only wanted to swallow him. If Broud had known a word for hell he would have defined this as such. And then, at that most horrifying moment everything burned away, and she was standing there, on the edge of a cool green forest, her wide violet eyes pools of relief and comfort. She beckoned him and he ran to her in his mind, away from torment and anonymous, useless death. But Kyani ran then, through the deep primordial forest, leaping ferns and mossy logs and gurgling, frigid streams as gracefully as a doe. The hunters spark lit within the soul of Broud and in his mind he bolted for her, feeling the sweet rush of blood and adrenaline as his powerful stride opened up and he chased her down. Up they ran, higher and higher into the mountains until they reached the promontory a ways from the new cave where Kyani stopped, and turned to him.

And she was not alone. In his vision Broud skidded to a terrified stop, for Ursus was there, and not the imitation of Goov or Creb or even the cave bear he had once fought at the Clan Gathering, but the God of his people, the essence of them.

"Come," Kyani told him, and he slid his hand into hers, and at once the world swung violently. There was tearing and blood and screams, all the violence of birth, and a great spinning form, a double helix, tore in two. Broud felt the tearing and the bleeding from his own body as he stood in awe. And from the white hot fire that engulfed the spot where Ursus had stood a great golden eagle rose, spreading its wings and screaming as it mounted the wind. Broud and Kyani, hand in hand, watched the creature in awe as sometimes it was the eagle and sometimes a great dragon, and he soared over the wide plains and mountains of Europe and then, as they watched, he flew on in his endless dominion. The beast that was once Ursus soared over great, endless bodies of crashing water into dark jungles and deep forests, over vast plains, until finally it came to rest at the top of a great stone mountain that had been shaped-Broud knew-by the strong hands of men. And then there was peace.

Broud looked down on Kyani and to his utter delight, there were two children under her arms, beautiful flame haired girls and they were laughing and unharmed, and they were goddesses unto themselves. Kyani laughed as well and sent them off into the world, but first they turned to Broud and embraced him, gazing up on him with a love so pure that it melted his heart. One had eyes of violet, like her; the other had incredible deep set dark eyes, Broud's own eyes in a face flawless by the standard of any race of men. They ran off, through fields of swaying lavender towards the great tower where they joined with others, children with pale skins and hair of red and earth and black and even gold. Some built on the tower with stone and some danced, beautiful women and strong, stoic men who dreamed in the clouds yet toiled tirelessly in the earth.

"It is our world," Kyani told him, breathing in his ear, her lips caressing his skin. Her hands lay over her belly and now it not flat and tight but ripe and goddess-full, and suddenly Broud ripped away.

The men around him were still in mediation, but delirious Broud stood, and stumbling drunk he passed through the narrow corridor into the outer cave where the women lay exhausted around the dying fires. Ravenously he searched for her, and found her, laying naked on her back, eyes closed, her hands pillowing her head. Broud snatched Kyani up out of her sweet dream of prayer and she gasped in surprised delight. He carried her to his new hearth and set her down with the greatest of reverence, his need pounding his body and mind to death. On a carpet of soft furs he pushed her legs up, clasping them around the back of her thighs beneath her knees so that her legs fell bent and wide, and he took her with a passionate violence, as if he would beat his soul into the very earth she lay on, claiming her and it and all the world for his very own.