As they returned, Ayla watched her mate approach the cave and its people with his head held high. She was tempted to make herself smaller, to somehow try and take attention away from herself and her kills, but instead, she followed his example and walked tall behind him, the animals she had slain openly on display.

Heads turned as the people - and especially the men - noticed them and the distribution of kills, but like Zoug, Ayla ignored them, heading straight to the hearth. She didn't miss Broud's angry grimace, though, and wasn't exactly surprised that he'd take offence on Zoug's behalf.

"Do you have enough fresh meat and vegetables to invite another couple for the evening meal?" Zoug inquired as Ayla put down her kills.

The day before, she'd gathered wild turnips, mushrooms, and a large amount of watercress, all of it enough for several days' worth of meals. Together with the two rabbits, the hamster and the two ptarmigan she had got today, it was more than four people could eat. When she told him, Zoug nodded, satisfied. "I will invite the leader and his mate to eat at my hearth tonight."

The rest of the afternoon, Ayla was busy taking care of her kills and cooking. Zoug had gone and invited the leader, who had agreed - when Zoug had told her, she'd almost wished that Brun would have declined. She had served guests before at Creb's hearth, but never had she been responsible for preparing the entire meal. On top of that, having the firsts guests she would host as a mated woman be the leader and his mate made her even more nervous.

What if the food wasn't to Brun's liking? What if she made a mistake while serving the men? Zoug had reassured her that he was proud of her hunting prowess, but she didn't want to fail in her feminine responsibilities, either. She wanted to prove to Zoug and also to the leader that she could do both, be a hunter and a good Clan woman who took care of her man and his hearth.

When the time had finally come, Ayla's nerves were frayed. But the hearth was tidy, the food hot and waiting to be eaten. When everyone had sat down, Ayla served roasted rabbit, ptarmigan stuffed with chopped turnips and their leaves, a side of fried mushrooms, and fresh watercress salad. Afterwards, there were small, flat cakes made of crushed grains, fat, and blueberries, sweetened with honey and baked on hot stones right before the guests had arrived.

Both men and Ebra as well ate with relish, while Ayla - nauseous both from her pregnancy and nerves - barely managed to get down a few bites of each dish. She forced herself not to let her nervousness show, though, but instead managed to serve her mate and the leader without any incidents. After the still warm grain cakes had been eaten, Ayla refilled everyone's cups with Zoug's favourite mint tea.

"Your mate is a good cook," Brun praised, after he'd taken a sip.

Zoug grunted in obvious pleasure at the compliment. After a quick glance at Ayla, he spoke up. "Yes, I'm very lucky to be taken care of so well. Not only is my mate a good hunter who provided the entire meal for us, she also cooks just as well as my former mate used to."

Shocked silence followed this statement. Ayla didn't know whether to feel flattered, embarrassed or both; Ebra and Brun were gaping at the old hunter incredulously. They had known on some level that it was Ayla who had been solely responsible for feeding them tonight: the vegetables had of course been gathered by her, and they had seen her come home with the animals whose meat they had now consumed, while Zoug had been empty-handed.

Still, they had preferred not to think about it, and they never would have imagined Zoug openly speaking about the fact that he himself hadn't been able to contribute anything. His gestures had been proud, almost defiant, and it was obvious to Ayla that Brun didn't quite know what to reply. But after a few moments, he collected himself.

"It seems you chose well, then, when you asked to be given Ayla as your mate."

"I did," Zoug agreed, "and I'm grateful that the leader allowed it."

After this, the men turned their talk to hunting, and Ayla was glad that the focus had shifted away from her. She would have liked to listen, but also didn't want to be rude to Ebra. There were hazelnut cakes the older woman made each autumn which Ayla knew Zoug loved, and with the seasons soon about to turn, she wanted to be able to replicate them. Quickly, the women became engrossed in a conversation about cooking, Ayla eagerly memorising the differences between Ebra's and Iza's recipes.

Later, when Brun and Ebra had left, Zoug turned to his mate, a content expression on his face. "You did well," he told her, and Ayla beamed at the praise. She had managed to do what she'd hoped to accomplish, and her mate was proud of both her manly as well as her womanly skills.

Not much later, like every evening since their isolation had ended, they lay down together in their furs, which were now placed next to each other. The first evening, Ayla had feared that Zoug might make the signal, but it hadn't happened; so far, he hadn't even touched her at night, apparently content to simply sleep next to her.

Since she had been given to him, Ayla had been worried that she would have to relieve his needs regularly. She was convinced that Zoug would be gentler than Broud; after all, he had no reason to want to hurt her. Still, she couldn't see how it wouldn't hurt, and she had dreaded the first time it would happen. Any day, at any time, her mate could demand that she submit to it, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Now, though, she wondered. As far as she could tell, almost all the men relieved their needs with the women quite often, but Zoug hadn't signalled her yet. Was it because she was too ugly? Ayla had no illusions about him liking her appearance - no man would ever want her for how she looked. Still, the idea stung. She didn't like the thought of relieving his needs, but to think that her mate might be repulsed by her . . .

But then, he hadn't signalled any other woman either since they had been mated. Or before that, as far as she could remember. Had she ever witnessed Zoug signalling a woman, Ayla wondered as she lay on her side, hearing her mate's breaths slowly evening out behind her. Searching her memories, she found that she couldn't recall more than maybe a handful of times in all the years since she had come to the Clan, and those times had been when she was much younger. Of course, it might have been more often and she simply hadn't seen it, but she was confident that it had happened much less often than with any of the other men, except Creb and Dorv, who was not much younger than Zoug.

Maybe it was Zoug's age then. She hadn't been explicitly told this, but it would make sense if older men's strength were waning in more than one way. Maybe they didn't have such strong needs anymore. If it was true, she was even luckier to be his mate than she'd thought until now, Ayla decided. He was patient and tolerant of her unusual ways, he let her hunt and taught her how to be better at it than himself. He'd even defied his Clan memories for her sake and openly praised her skills in front of the leader.

She never would have dreamt of anything like it; all she had been able to envision had been a mate who might let her hunt but was a typical Clan man in any other way. Zoug was quite different from that. And if she was right, there would be only few times that he would want to relieve his needs with her.

Slowly, careful not to wake him, she turned around and looked at his face in the weak glow of the banked fire. His hair and beard were grey, the skin leathery from age and years of hunting on the steppes. There was a jagged, old scar on his sloping forehead, as long as Ayla's small finger, ending just above his bushy left eyebrow. From the stories Zoug had told, she knew it was from when he'd narrowly missed being gored by an auorochs as a young man; the animal had only scratched his forehead with the tip of its horn when the other hunters had brought it down. It was a strong face, a good face that inspired trust.

Yes, Ayla was glad that it was Zoug to whom she had been given as a mate. None of the other men, let alone a man from another cave, would be this good to her, this concerned about her wishes and well-being. With this thought, she shifted closer to him and rested her head on his broad chest. Zoug grunted in his sleep as he slightly changed his position, then pulled her close, his strong arm around her. Ayla froze, then scolded herself silly and let herself relax against him, closing her eyes.

Zoug's arm was a comfortable weight on her back, and it felt good to be held. Safe. Like when she had been a small girl and Iza had held her at night, and yet also different. It was like when they had touched in the afternoon. She still didn't know what had made her do it but decided there was no point in thinking about it now - she was far too tired. They hadn't slept like this before, but, Ayla thought as she fell asleep to the soothing rhythm of Zoug's heart a while later, she could get used to this.

.-.-.-.

The next morning, Zoug woke with his mate wrapped around him like a clinging vine. She was still asleep, her head on his chest, her arm wrapped around his mid-section, one of her long legs wound around one of his in a seemingly impossible manner.

Zoug quietly snorted to himself - now this was a surprise. Before yesterday, Ayla hadn't initiated any physical contact with him, and except for the tap on the shoulder when she'd asked for permission to speak, there had always been a slight flinch on the few occasions when he had done it. It had irritated him when it had persisted beyond a few days, and part of him had wanted to be angry with her.

But then he'd had to think of the brutal beatings she had taken form Broud, and the way she had screamed and fought when he'd relieved his needs with her. Zoug had given her no reason to fear him; on the contrary, he'd promised that he wouldn't unreasonably punish her. So far, he hadn't had to do it at all. But hadn't he watched Iza instinctively shrink from a non-threatening man sometimes when her mate Grok had still been alive? He'd been as undisciplined and hot-tempered as Broud, cuffing his woman more than any other man would have deemed necessary, and never gentle when he'd relieved his needs with her. And didn't Oga behave the same way occasionally?

Thinking of this, Zoug had decided that whatever the reason, it couldn't hurt to wait for a while. He had slept on his own for many years, hadn't had the touch of anyone but Uka when she would sometimes massage his stiff neck and shoulders if her taking care of her mate and hearth duties permitted it. Surely, he could wait for a little longer to see if Ayla would make the first move.

Now, it seemed that he had made the right decision. Looking down at her yellow hair mingling with the grey fuzz on his chest, Zoug marvelled at how quickly he had come to care for his mate. Within just a moon, he had begun to appreciate her presence at his hearth for more than just having someone who would take care of the hearth and see to his comfort.

No, he didn't think he'd regret taking her for a mate and making the decision to go against his memories for her sake. She was only a woman, and her feelings shouldn't matter to him as much as they did, but he couldn't make it out to be a bad thing. Moreover, he reassured himself, Ayla mattered to the spirits. He didn't understand why, but the least he could do was follow their example.

His reverie didn't last long, since it was only a short while later that Ayla stirred. Before there could be any awkward feelings, however, she quickly sat up and grabbed the basket she'd placed next to her furs for this purpose. Zoug sat up as well and watched with worry as she threw up violently, her slim body jerking with the force of it. In all his long life, he'd never seen a pregnant woman with such severe morning sickness as Ayla displayed. And it seemed to only get worse as time passed.

Ayla moaned unhappily into the basket, then heaved again. Uncomfortably, Zoug looked away from his mate, only to have his gaze fall on the cooking skin with the remaining mint tea from the evening before. A nebulous idea formed in his mind - then he shook his head. The few times in his life when he'd been sick enough to vomit, he'd liked to rinse his mouth to get rid of the taste afterwards, but taking care of that was a woman's task.

Just then, there was the sound of more throwing up from Ayla. Before he could think more deeply about it, Zoug had got up and grabbed one of the wooden cups, putting it on the ground next to where the cooking skin was hanging on its frame. He'd never before poured a drink and miscalculated, tea splashing over the rim of the cup, but he solved the problem of the overfull cup by drinking a large gulp himself after he'd put the near-empty skin away again.

Turning back to his mate, he saw that she was just raising her head from the basket. Sweat was beading on her forehead, and her eyes were watering. She looked miserable. Refusing to think about what he was doing, Zoug quickly headed over to her, holding out the cup for her to take. Ayla stared in stunned silence for a few moments before she accepted it with a grateful look.

Zoug wondered if she would make any comment about it, then decided that he wasn't quite up for that kind of conversation and quickly left the cave to pass his morning water.