I eat with the men tonight, but though the food is what was cooked for the celebration, what could be saved anyway, what wasn't covered in rock dust, we are no longer in the mood for celebrating.

'What is going to happen now?' one of the hunters motions. 'After the shaking earth, surely this cave is unlucky. Will we have to find another one?'

'Isn't it too late in the season? It won't be long before the snow arrives.'

'Was it unlucky though, everyone in this cave was all right.'

Everyone looks to Brac, not knowing who else can lead us now.

He sits surrounded by us. A birch bark cast on his arm, a dressing on his head.

'I do not think that we can leave,' he responds. 'Yes, it is too late in the season. If we looked for another cave, we might be still looking when the snow comes. That would be unlucky. But this cave, is it really unlucky? No one was hurt here. Yes I, and our leader was hurt, but that was in another cave, not this one. I'd actually say that this cave is lucky. We shall stay. I know that Broud should have the ultimate say in that, but he is too ill, and might not even survive. One way or another, for now, the decision has to be mine. He was about to make me the leader after all.'

All around him, the hunters nod their heads, and I must admit, I am pleased that we are not going to be going to look for another cave.

But I still feel uneasy. And I know that feeling is felt by nearly everyone else.

I put my empty bowl on the floor by my feet, for it to be immediately picked by one of the women. She holds it, her head bowed, waiting for me to respond.

I tap her shoulder.

'Would you like any more?'

I shake my head. 'I am full,' I motion. 'That stew was delicious though.'

She glances down at the floor, and her face slightly reddens, giving me the impression that maybe she was the one who made it.

But she doesn't say anything else. Just hurries off.

I'm just taking a drink of water, when I see Uba enter the hearth. She heads straight for Brac, crouches down in front of him, her head lowered toward the ground.

I watch as Brac stares at her. Doesn't touch her. Leaves her staring at the ground. But then he leans over and taps her on the shoulder.

'What is it Uba?'

'This woman has brought news of the leader,' she starts to motion. 'The leader was hit on the head by a large rock, something that would kill many, but this woman is pleased to say that she believes that he will live.'

Brac blinks, and then nods his head. 'I thought he would die for sure,' he responds. 'But because of you, he is going to be all right. Thank you. You may go.'

Uba doesn't rise though, she glances back at the ground, and then looks at Brac again. 'This woman has bad news about the leader too,' she motions.

Brac leans forward.

'This woman is unhappy to report that the leader Broud seems…' she looks around, as if wishing that someone else would give the news that she has, that they were capable of giving it, or willing and able. 'The leader seems confused. He doesn't seem to know who he is, or where he is.'

'Is that usual after a head injury?'

Uba shakes her head. 'It is very usual. The thinking organ in the head, it responds different ways to injuries. Sometimes a patient can just be a little confused for a short time, maybe act in a way that they don't usually act in, or they might lose their memories, both short term and long term. Sometimes the patient recovers as if nothing has happened, and other times, especially with the memories, things never return to normal.'

'And which situation do you think the leader is in?'

She shrugs. 'I do not know.'

'But for now, he does not know who he is? And if he does not know who he is, then he cannot lead, don't you agree?'

She looks flustered. 'I do not know,' she gestures. 'Whether a man is the leader or not is not something that a lowly woman like myself has any knowledge of.'

'But as a healer, do you believe that he can lead at the moment?'

She bites her bottom lip, and then shakes her head. 'Not at the moment.'

'Thank you Uba, now if there isn't anything else, you have my permission to get back to your duties. We men have much to discuss.'

Uba, a relieved look on her face, hurriedly leaves the hearth.

'It seems,' the Mog-Ur Goov motions, as he stands up. 'That you are our leader now Brac. With Broud incapacitated as he is, and because he was going to pass over leadership to you tonight anyway, I see no reason to not have a leadership ceremony. But I will have to converse with the spirits about how it should be done, as we cannot have the one we would have had if everything had gone to plan. It seems Broud is not at the moment in any condition to pass the leadership over, and might never be again. Not with his mental capacities having left him.'

I'm pretty sure that Broud's mental capacity left him a long time ago, if he ever truly was sane. But I'm not going to say that.

Brac nods his head. 'Yes, with Broud like he is, he cannot lead, and he was going to pass the leadership over, so a leadership ceremony would be good. I think that after today, that the cave needs something like that to recover.'

'Yes,' the Mog-Ur responds.

'And we can include the man who is to be my second in command too,' Brac continues. 'Grev, my brother.'

Grev looks up at this.

He's a quiet man, never one to make a fuss or get involved in anything much. He can hunt, and does hunt, but never joins the reanactments, and is always in the background. Listening to what is happening but never joining in. In some ways, I suppose he's a really good choice of second in command, as he's the sort to watch, and wait, to listen, and not judge. Of all the clan, I think he is the one that understands people the most, but because he is the way he is, he isn't the sort to object if something is wrong. Of all the males of Broud's hearth, he is the most malleable, having more in common with his younger sister, Ana than his likeable brother or the arrogant mate of his mother. If Brac for one moment turned out like Broud, and treated another similar, Grev wouldn't speak up, not because he agreed, but because he is the sort to just let things be.

But it was expected that Brac would name him as his second.

'I will see about organising it,' the Mog-Ur Goov says, starting to rise. But then instead of leaving the hearth, he heads over to Brac. 'I would also like to add the other part of the ceremony we'd discussed,' he motions.

Brac frowns. 'Other part?'

'About my acolyte.'

'Oh yes, that is to be expected. Have you chosen someone?'

The Mog-Ur Goov's eyes narrow. 'You know I have,' he gestures. 'We discussed it, and you said you agreed.'

'Well that's all right then,' Brac motions. 'But remind me who it was I agreed should be your acolyte. I can't remember who it was you said. I guess that rock that hit my head has given me some memory problems too.'

'Yes, yes,' the Mog-Ur gesticulates. 'That is very possible. I thought you were acting strangely earlier. But no matter, you are young and strong, and don't seem to have forgotten anything really important. The rest will come back to you I am sure.' He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. 'The man who I have chosen as my acolyte, and who helped me commune with the spirits while you were all hunting, and I must say, he is a natural…'

'Is?' Brac asks.

'Durc.'

Brac twists his head to find me. Looks at me for a moment, and then, letting out a deep sigh, glances down at his hands. He nods his head, and then looks back at the Mog-Ur. 'He is a natural you say?'

'Yes, he is. During the hunt, I could feel his spirit entering the spirits of the animals, calming them and slowing them down. That the hunt was so successful is partly down to him.'

For a moment, it is almost as if Brac's eyes turn to stone, but then they soften. 'I did not know that you did that,' he motions. 'Enter the animals. No hunter wants to be told that it wasn't his skill that killed the animal. But no matter.' He glances back at me. 'Do you want to be the Mog-Ur's acolyte?' he asks.

'Yes, I do. I want it more than anything that I have ever wanted before.'

'Well then, that is what will happen. Let's just hope that if Broud does come to his senses, that my decision today will not affect my right to lead you all.'

888888888888888888888888888

Curled up in my furs. My mate Ura in my arms, I allow the warmth of her body and the comfort of her presence to lull me to sleep.

Drifting in the fog of dreams, I feel its clamminess withdraw to reveal a cave I only now see in my sleep, and a woman hugging me who I know is my Mama, though in some ways I hardly remember her.

'Durc hunt,' I realise the child me is saying.

'Yes Durc,' my Mama is responding. 'Durc is going to be the best hunter of the clan.'

But she glances to where a glowering young man, who I recognise as Broud, sits in his hearth.

'Always keep away from Broud my son,' she says. 'Don't go near him. He will hurt you.'

But my child's mind doesn't understand, and I see myself toddling toward his hearth. And Broud kicking me.

'I don't like Broud,' I say to my Mama afterward.
She nods as she cleans the blood from the cut I got falling over, and then tells me once again to stay away from him.

'One day, he will really hurt you if you let him,' she motions. 'Stay away from him.'

I think I remember her really telling me this, though I do not know for sure. I do remember that at a very young age that I worked out that Broud didn't like me, and I should stay away.

'Stay away,' I hear her voice, though the mist is drifting in around me. 'Beware Broud. Beware. You are in danger.'

I hear humming, I do not know where from, and I cannot see through the fog in front of my eyes, but it grows louder, until it is defening.

And then as the fog clears, I see the three women of the others that I saw earlier in the day, the older big woman, the younger woman, who I can see has some grey streaked through her blonde hair, and the younger almost a girl woman.

The middle one looks up. And looks right into my eyes.

Grey eyes that I know. That I have seen so many times, in real life, and since in my dreams.

My mama's eyes.

I stare in them in wonder, and then tried to hug her.

But of course, I can't.

I wish I could.

Tears form out of those grey eyes then.

I yearn to wipe them from where they fall on her cheek.

'My son,' she whispers. And somehow, though she is communicating in sounds, and not movement, I understand her.

'You are in danger Durc. I told you long ago, that if he could, he would hurt you. Beware, because he's coming. If you let him, he will kill you, he will kill you, and Ura and your children too.'

'Who Mama?'

'Beware Durc. Beware. Don't let Broud hurt you.'

'But he's hurt himself. He can't hurt me.'

'Yes he can. Beware. Now, you must wake because the time has come to protect what is yours. Wake up Durc. Wake up.'

The mist swirls around me, dragging me violently away from her.

'Mama,' I shout. 'Mama.'

'Durc, my son,' I hear her sounds echo through the fog. 'Beware, he has come. Wake up.'

Suddenly, I am sat up in my furs, and I see that someone is leaning over me.

Broud.