Before Ayla could catch a clear thought, Broud stuck her hard across the face, making her stumble and fall. She landed belly-first on the large boundary stones of Creb's hearth, her breath being knocked out of her, leaving her gasping for air.
There were gasps and screams, and above all an enraged roar, but Ayla couldn't pay attention to the commotion around her. All she could think of as she tried to roll herself off the stones, still barely being able to breathe, was her baby. What if it had got hurt? What if -
"Ayla!"
Iza was beside her in mere moments and helped her into a sitting position. Close by, there was shuffling, yelling and even more commotion, but Ayla only had eyes for her mother.
"My baby -" she signed shakily, then she broke off abruptly and cradled her belly with a whimper as a sharp, rippling pain raced through it and spread all the way to her back.
"Describe the pain to me," Iza demanded. "Where is it?"
"Sharp," Ayla signed. "In the belly. And the back."
Iza nodded grimly. "Ovra, Ika!" she called, and the women, who must have been nearby, appeared next to her within moments. "Ayla, we're going to help you back inside Creb's hearth. I think the baby is coming."
It couldn't be true, Ayla told herself as she let the two strong women pull her to her feet and more carry than lead her the few steps into the hearth, where she was made to undress and lie down on a large skin that Iza used to examine patients and that she had now spread over her own furs. It was too early by far. If her baby was born now, it would die.
But no matter how much she wanted for this to be nothing more than a dream, the pain came again, and again, and after several more times, there was a wet feeling between her thighs, the fluids of the womb spreading between her legs.
"Your water has broken," Iza signed. "There's nothing we can do now but help you bring the child into the world."
.-.-.-.
Ayla's delivery lasted all night.
Iza had hoped that since there were almost three moons yet until she should have given birth, that it would be easy and over quickly, but she had been mistaken. For hours, the contractions dragged on, but there was no progress.
The atmosphere at the hearth was oppressive. Ayla refused to talk to anyone, lying on her bed with eyes red and puffy from the water that flowed from them continuously. Except for Iza, there was only Ovra, who provided silent, sympathetic company. She'd experienced several miscarriages as well and knew what Ayla was going through.
Iza had sent Uba to sleep at Droog's hearth, where Aga would take care of her along her other children. Creb had disappeared into his small Mog-ur's chamber, and she didn't doubt he would stay there all night, interceding with the spirits for Ayla's life.
Iza had only vaguely registered what had happened with Broud. There had been some kind of struggle between him and Zoug, and in the end, both of them had been led away by the other men on Brun's command. She had been too focused on Ayla, and while her daughter was in labour, she hadn't wanted anyone to upset her even more with news of it. For now, all that mattered was that Ayla would survive.
As the night progressed, the contractions grew stronger and closer together, and Iza gave Ayla a root decoction of a special type of yam to dull her pain. Still, the labour was harder on her even now than on most Clan women, and in the early morning, Ayla was drenched in sweat, shaking, and screaming in agony with every contraction. Nobody could sleep anymore, and as the cave came to life around them, Iza worried for the life of her daughter.
"You need to push!" she told Ayla, who was growing weaker at a frightening rate. Already, she could barely hold open her eyes between contractions.
"I can't!"
"You have to, or you'll die with the child!"
"Then let me!" Ayla gestured weakly. "Why should I want to live without my baby anyway?"
Iza didn't know what to say to that, but to her relief it was not long after that with a blood-curdling scream that chilled Iza and turned the heads of everyone in the cave, Ayla pushed the baby into the world.
It did not move or breathe, and after she had quickly severed the umbilical cord, Iza took a good look at the lifeless little body - and barely suppressed a shocked gasp. Ovra shot her a questioning glance, but Iza shook her head, wrapping the tiny body into a hide she had prepared and setting it to the side.
"We need to deliver the afterbirth and then hope she won't bleed to death."
Ayla was barely conscious now, eyes drooping, and Ovra had to shake her to keep her awake.
"You need to push one more time," Iza commanded, and though she didn't know how Ayla managed, with the next contraction the afterbirth was expelled in a gush of blood.
Ayla was bleeding heavily, and Iza feared it might already be too late. Yet a memory was rising from the back of her mind - something her mother had only told her, but which she hadn't done before. Frowning in concentration, she put her hand on Ayla's loose abdomen and began to massage it firmly. It took many more heartbeats than even Creb would have been able to count, she was certain, but finally, when her arm was aching already, the flow of blood stopped to a small trickle, then stilled.
"She's unconscious," Ovra motioned as Iza looked up, but to her relief, Iza found that Ayla was still breathing.
"Help me clean her up," she ordered. "We need to keep her warm now, and I want you to stay in case anything happens. I'll report to Brun and Zoug and then send Aba to watch over her so we can both sleep."
Iza would have liked to stay awake with Ayla herself, but knew that at her age and with her poor health, she needed to sleep. She'd instruct Aba to wake her immediately should there be any signs that Ayla was getting worse.
Finally, Ayla was clean and covered in the warmest furs they could find at Creb's hearth, and Iza made her way to inform Brun.
.-.-.-.
All night, Zoug was beside himself with worry.
At first, he barely remembered what had happened after Broud had struck Ayla, only his own shock at turning around and seeing her fall - and then he had been restrained and pulled away from Broud, who had, for some reason, blood on his face. What had happened in between was lost in a strange, red mist.
Broud, who had wanted to come after Zoug with balled fists, had been dragged away by Brun and Crug, while Grod and Droog had led Zoug to Grod's hearth. Uka had offered him a cup of hot tea at Grod's order, but Zoug hadn't accepted it; he'd felt far too upset and restless.
"I need to go and see what's happened to Ayla," he demanded, but Grod shook his head.
"Brun told me that you were to stay here with me. You attacked Broud." Grod's brow was furrowed in disapproval. "I've never seen anything like it - except for when Broud shoved you, back at the training field."
Zoug blinked, trying to clear his head. His heart was still pumping wildly, and all that he wanted to do was run out of the hearth and over to Mog-ur's, where Ayla had now been escorted and made to lie down. But he couldn't possibly disobey a command from Brun, and he knew she was in good hands with Iza.
Sighing deeply, he sat down and waved for Uka to give him the cup he'd previously rejected. Slowly sipping the tea, he tried to calm himself. Nothing would be gained from acting rashly - that was not how a Clan man was supposed to act.
And yet, apparently that was what he had done. Had he truly attacked Broud? As time went on, he remembered things more clearly: Broud had passed him on the way to his hearth. Then there had been a scream, and he'd turned around and seen Ayla crash down onto the hearthstones, Broud standing over her with a grimace of hate and disdain.
Broud had beaten his mate, who might now lose the baby and die. That had been Zoug's only thought; he'd had no consideration for proper decorum left. All he had felt was rage, and he had rushed at Broud and swung his fist, hitting him square on the nose. It had broken with a sick, satisfying sound - and then Grod and Droog had intervened.
How could it have come to this? Zoug asked himself. He'd never lost control like this, had never behaved so improperly, attacking another Clan man. It simply was not done. Only someone like Broud would lose his temper in such a shameful fashion, or at least that was what Zoug had believed until today.
His introspection was disturbed by the appearance of Ika, who had been sent by Iza to inform Zoug, and then the leader, that Ayla was in labour.
"Iza said the baby will die, but Ayla might live," she reported.
Zoug nodded unhappily and sent Ika on her way when she was finished.
Despite the tense atmosphere in the entire cave, one by one, the women and children found their way into their furs, but the men stayed wide awake. Usually, when a woman gave birth, the men would often sit together, passing the time with stories as they waited for the news, but this time, everything was different.
Over at Broud's hearth, the man was turning restlessly on his furs, Crug and Droog sitting at the fire - to make sure he wouldn't leave, Zoug was sure. Oga and her boys had been sent to sleep at Goov's hearth. Zoug felt a savage satisfaction at the realisation that Brun had not sent Iza to take care of Broud's injury- she was needed with Ayla, and if anything, Broud deserved the pain to last through the night.
Grod made no move to retire, either; he'd most likely been ordered by Brun to watch over him, Zoug mused. A while after Ika's report, Dorv appeared and, after having been invited in, sat down in silence next to Zoug, who was grateful for his old friend's company.
The leader himself was sitting awake, too, his stern face lit by the flickering flames of the fire. Zoug didn't envy him his position. What had occurred was a gross aberration, and Zoug knew that Brun would have to think of a punishment for him. He found that he couldn't truly worry about that, though. All he could focus on was his worry for his mate.
What would he do if she died?
He couldn't think of anything else, and when the screams began in the early morning, he had to force himself to stay seated instead of trying to get to her against Brun's orders and any custom. Finally, after a scream of agony that Zoug hadn't imagined could come out of a human throat, there was silence. He didn't dare look over to Mog-ur's hearth to see what had happened, although he was sure nobody would have minded his breach of decorum.
But if Ayla was dead or dying, he didn't want to know. Not yet.
It seemed like a long while later that Brun, followed by Iza, made his way over to Grod's hearth.
.-.-.-.-.
Brun was at a loss.
All night, he had sat and tried to make sense of what had happened. How could it have come to this, for two men of his clan losing control in this fashion?
Concerning Broud, he was saddened, but the longer he thought about it, the less surprising his actions seemed, Brun had realised with a heavy heart. It was true that Ayla hadn't paid attention to where she was going and had bumped into Broud, who had been on his way back to his own hearth after having taken the evening meal with Brun and Ebra, and a man was allowed to correct a woman in such a case. But no reasonable man would have thought of doing more than just cuffing her lightly, and in Ayla's precarious situation, Brun wouldn't have expected any of his men to do even that much. Women were to be corrected and reminded of proper behaviour, not beaten down without any regard for their health at all.
As it was, Ayla was now losing her baby and might even die in the process, all because Broud hadn't been able to keep his temper in check. But thinking of his hatred for her and of past incidents, Brun wondered if he shouldn't have expected something like it.
There had been the time when Broud had constantly found reasons to cuff her, going so far as to savagely beat her. True, she had been wilful and disobedient to him, but who had started their feud? Hadn't Ayla only become belligerent once Broud had singled her out to harass? She'd never been like this with any other man. She was only a woman and should have borne it, and yet, hadn't Broud enjoyed it far too much? A man wasn't supposed to delight in hitting a woman.
Then there had been the time when Broud had kept relieving his needs with her. Brun saw no reason why she should have disliked it so much; he'd never seen or heard of any other woman reacting this way. It was Broud's right, there was no question about it, and a woman needed to know that she couldn't get out of a man's orders by misbehaving. And yet, it had seemed to truly affect her, making her almost lose her spirit - and hadn't Broud found pleasure in causing her such misery?
A more disturbing thought had entered his mind, then, one he barely dared to think. But he knew that he now wouldn't be able to let it go until he found an answer: now that it had happened, even if only by accident, would Broud derive satisfaction from the death of Ayla's child and her grief about it?
Could a man be leader who enjoyed harming someone, even if it was only a woman? Could such a man, who would cause the death of a baby - even an unborn, unnnamed one - due to lack of control and carelessness, be trusted with the well-being of an entire clan? The more he thought about it, the more Brun feared that he might come to the conclusion that Broud could not become leader after him.
And then there was Zoug. If he hadn't seen it, Brun would never have believed it. To attack another man, and even right in front of the women, was unthinkable. Never before had the old hunter lost his temper, had he ever been anything but a model of Clan behaviour. Not, Brun thought unhappily, until he had mated Ayla. What was it about her that made men lose any common sense?
They both must be punished, that much was clear. Such infractions couldn't go without consequences, or else the order of his clan would be irrevocably damaged.
But when morning dawned and Ayla's screams of pain filled the cave, and even later, when Iza came and informed him that the baby was dead and Ayla still at risk of dying, he had no idea what he should do.
