That morning, after Iza had informed Brun and, together with him, Zoug of the situation, Brun sent her to look at Broud's injury while he stayed with Zoug.

Broud's nose was broken, but there was not much she could do other than giving him willow bark tea for the pain and bringing down the swelling with a snow pack that she told Oga to replace once the snow would melt away. Afterwards, she collected Aba from Droog's hearth and, having dismissed Ovra, instructed her in Ayla's care. Then, before she could sleep, one last duty awaited her.

Usually when a baby was stillborn, the mother - or if she was too weak, the medicine woman - would dispose of it in the woods. But it was in the depth of winter, with snow piled high and the ground frozen. It would be too dangerous to go out, and the baby could not be buried. So Iza took the small bundle, as well as the wrapped afterbirth, and went to the deepest part of the cave, where the food was stored and where it was cold enough that they would keep until the snow would melt.

Away from prying eyes, she put them down in a small nook a safe distance from the stores, and unwrapped the hide she had used to cover the baby. It was a little boy, a son, and for a moment, she imagined Ayla, Zoug, and the boy walking through the woods, all of them with a sling in hand. Then she shook her head; even without Broud's actions, it might never have been.

The baby's head was deformed: it was too large, and the forehead was bulging unnaturally high over the brow ridges, whereas the back of the head was strangely rounded, not as long as it should have been. Below the mouth, a bony knob deformed the features. The neck was thin, but Iza wasn't certain that it wouldn't have grown thicker until birth. Would the boy have lived? She couldn't tell, nor did she know whether Brun would have decreed him too deformed to be counted among the Clan.

Finally, she wrapped the dead little body into the hide again and left. Once the snow melted and the ground would thaw, Ayla would have to go and bury it. She returned to Creb's hearth and lay down to sleep, then, but it was only noon when Aba wok her because Ayla had developed a fever.

Two days later, Ayla was still unconscious, and Iza seriously feared she might lose her. Nothing that she had done had managed to bring the fever down. Weakened greatly from the blood loss and unable to take in nourishment other than a few sips of medicinal tea and chips of ice that Iza placed in her mouth to try and keep her hydrated, Ayla had grown steadily weaker.

Iza had just finished changing the cool compresses around Ayla's chest and calves when Uba entered the hearth - Iza had sent her to fetch new ice. When she had taken off her thick furs and placed the bowl of ice into the corner furthest form the fire, the girl came to sit with Iza next to Ayla, looking down at her older sister with an unhappy frown.

"Will Ayla die, Mother?"

Sighing deeply, Iza brushed a wayward, dark lock out of Uba's face. "If the fever doesn't break today, or tonight at the latest, I think she will. She's too weak to resist for much longer, and I've done everything I can. And so has Creb."

Her brother had come to eat and sleep only once since Ayla's labour had begun. The rest of the time, he had spent secluded in his small cave with the spirits. Iza understood him only too well; if she had the power to intercede with the spirit world for her daughter, she would have done the same.

Now, though, all she could do was wait.

.-.-.-.

That evening, when Iza approached Brun's hearth after he and Ebra had finished the evening meal, Brun feared the worst. His sibling looked drawn and exhausted as she knelt before him, and he quickly tapped her shoulder.

"The fever has broken," Iza told him, relief in every tired gesture she made. "Ayla is weak, but I'm confident that she'll live."

Brun, too, felt relief roll over him. Despite all her differences, Ayla was a valuable member of his clan and would have been missed dearly by her family and mate, and although he wouldn't have shown it, Brun would have grieved her loss as well. In the past, when she had forced him to make difficult decisions, he'd often wished that he hadn't allowed Iza to pick her up, but now he realised that despite everything, he didn't truly regret it.

"I'm glad," he told Iza, who seemed surprised at the admission. "Is there anything else that you can tell me as medicine woman and that I need to know? Tomorrow, I will have to tell the men what I've decided to do about Broud and Zoug, so if you know anything that is relevant, you must tell me."

Usually, a leader would never talk with a woman about punishing a man, even as obliquely as he'd done right now, and it made Brun feel uncomfortable. But her status as medicine woman meant that he had to rely on her knowledge in this situation.

Iza hesitated, but then nodded. "Brun, it's not certain that the baby would have lived even if Broud had done nothing and Ayla had been able to give birth at the right time. It is deformed."

Brun frowned - she hadn't told him this the day Ayla had given birth, only that the child was dead, and that it was male. But maybe she hadn't realised then that it would be important. And if it wasn't important to know, why should not a medicine woman refrain from mentioning a stillborn baby's deformity out of regard for the mother? Women, too, had their secrets, and in such a case, it might be more merciful if nobody knew.

But now was not the time for such musings, he decided. "I will look at it myself."

As he looked down at the tiny body, Iza next to him, Brun couldn't help but wonder. Would he have accepted the boy into the Clan?

"Iza, if he had lived, would he have been healthy? Would he have been able to hunt?"

Iza shrugged. "I can't tell. The neck is thin, but it might have grown stronger until birth. He might have been a normal child, except for the strange shape of his head. But I can't be certain. He might have died at birth, or been too sick to survive."

The thought struck Brun, then, that even so, his own brother Creb had been no less malformed at birth. Nobody had known whether he would even learn to walk, and yet now he was the greatest mog-ur the Clan had ever known. A man could ask the leader for the life of a deformed child, especially if it was his mate's first child and a son. He had no doubt that if the boy had lived and there would have been a chance of him growing up healthy, Zoug would have pleaded for his life wit him.

Ayla would have wanted the baby. He knew how much she had wished for a child - it had been hard to miss for anyone - and Zoug would have done it for her, even if having a deformed child at his hearth would have brought him the pity of the rest of the men.

The old hunter had been fond of Ayla even before they had been mated, or else he wouldn't have asked for her, but Brun wouldn't have expected for him to come to love his strange mate of the Others. Yet although Zoug had never said the words, there was no doubt in his mind that this was what had happened. He only had to think back to their talk from two days ago, after he had dismissed Iza from Grod's hearth.

When Dorv, Grod, and Uka had left as well to grant the two men privacy, Zoug had stood up straight before his leader, his face calm and serious. Brun hadn't doubted that he understood the severity of the situation.

"Zoug would speak," he had requested, and Brun had allowed it, curious to hear what he had to say.

"This man knows that he behaved inappropriately. He was concerned for his mate, but he should not have beaten Broud. Restraining him to prevent him from further harming his mate would have been enough and the right action to take. When this man saw his mate on the ground, his reason left him. He has no explanation for it other than that he feared that his mate might miscarry her child and die in the process. This man will accept any punishment the leader sees fit to impose on him. He regrets his impulsive actions, but he doesn't regret trying to protect his mate."

All of this had been said in the quiet, dignified manner that Brun had expected from Zoug - it was his usual demeanour, so drastically different from the rash, impulsive attack on Broud.

And Zoug's words made sense, Brun had thought. What would he have done, he'd asked himself, if another man had beaten Ebra like this as she'd carried her son? Her pregnancy with Broud, too, had been precarious. Could Brun guarantee that he wouldn't have done the same?

It was a difficult question - never in his lifetime had he seen a pregnant woman attacked by another human, or even heard of it outside of attacks of the Others that were sometimes reported at a Clan gathering. That thought had made it easier to understand. If a man of the Others had attacked Ebra, Brun was certain he would have come to her defence, and most likely with violence. How could a man behave any differently if one of their own men attacked his mate?

"This leader understands Zoug's reasoning," he'd replied equally formally. "He was right to want to protect his mate, but he is also right in that restraining Broud would have sufficed. Once it is clear whether Ayla will live, this leader will decide on consequences for Zoug - and for Broud. Until then, Broud will stay at his hearth, and Zoug at Grod's, since Iza needs Aba's help taking care of Ayla."

Zoug had nodded his understanding, and Brun could have left it at that. But he'd felt compelled to say more, something outside of his role as leader. Zoug had been the second to Brog for many years, and when Brun had taken over the clan, he'd stayed in the position for a while longer, providing the young leader with steady advice before Grod had replaced him. He'd been a stabilising figure in Brun's and the clan's life for as long as Brun could remember, and he thought of him as a friend.

"Zoug, I . . . regret Broud's actions. As the man of his hearth, I feel shame that he endangered your mate and caused her stillbirth."

The old man had shaken his head. "It's not your fault, Brun. Broud is a grown man and responsible for his own behaviour."

Nevertheless, Brun had thought, as the man of Broud's hearth, he should have found some way to teach him better. He'd not said it, though; there was no need to put his self-incrimination on Zoug's shoulders. He had enough to carry at the moment.

Instead, he had only nodded, grateful for Zoug's understanding. "Mog-ur has been interceding with the spirits for Ayla's life since the incident occurred. I will add my pleas to his."

"I am grateful. But Brun . . ." Zoug's gestures had been slow and heavy, and Brun had thought uncomfortably that he'd never seen him look this old before. "If Ayla dies, I hope it won't be long until I follow her. I've found . . . too much joy with her at my hearth to lose it now. And I don't want to live in a clan whose future leader killed my mate."

Stunned, Brun hadn't been able to find any answer, and so he had only nodded and left Grod's hearth.

Shaking off the memory, Brun focussed his gaze on the small body before him again. Did it matter that it wasn't clear whether the boy would have survived birth or been accepted into the Clan? No, he decided. He might have been a hunter one day, but even if the baby had been a girl or had been too sick to be accepted - all of that didn't change what Broud had done.

Resigned to his findings, he signed for Iza to cover the body again. Although Ayla was out of danger, he knew that he would find little sleep tonight.

The morning after the stillbirth, after speaking with Zoug, he had announced to the cave that once Ayla's fate was decided, he would deal with Zoug and Broud. The men had been disconcerted, the women frightened by the events. They had needed the reassurance that their leader would take matters into his hands, as he always did.

But still, two days later, Brun wasn't certain what his decision would be.

.-.-.-.

The next morning, a snowstorm was howling around the cave. It fitted his mood, Brun thought darkly as he drank his morning tea. He forced himself to eat the gruel Ebra had prepared, knowing he would need the sustenance.

When he was finished, he called all the men to the small chamber that was the men's meeting place. Looking around in the circle of men sitting before him, he found they all seemed grim and apprehensive - no meeting like this had ever needed to be held.

"We all know why we're here," Brun began. "Three days ago, Broud beat Ayla so badly for a minor infraction that she fell onto Mog-ur's hearthstones. The medicine woman confirmed that it was this fall that caused her to go into labour and deliver her baby early. It was a boy. He died during birth, and Ayla nearly died from blood loss and fever. Such behaviour from a man of the Clan is unacceptable."

Looking around once more, he took in the deep disapproval shining from everyone's faces - everyone's but Broud's. He, instead, looked defensive and like he was having trouble restraining himself from speaking. That didn't bode well for him, Brun thought.

"When he saw that Ayla had been attacked, Zoug, in turn, attacked Broud, leaving him with a broken nose," he went on. "While it is obvious and understandable that he wanted to protect his mate, restraining Broud would have sufficed."

It was true, and yet, by now Brun had come to the conclusion that he couldn't truly blame the old hunter.

"It's clear that both men need to be punished. For the order of the Clan, such infractions can't be allowed. Before I tell you my decision, I would hear your thoughts. First, we will talk about Zoug's punishment. Therefore, he will speak first."

"I admit my mistake," Zoug gestured calmly. "When I saw my mate on the ground, all I could think of was the danger she and her baby were in. I knew they both might die due to the fall, and I lost my temper. I regret striking Broud, but I don't regret trying to protect my mate. I will accept whatever punishment the leader sees fit."

Many of the men nodded along with his words, Brun noticed, and he couldn't help but be relieved. It looked as if they might have come to the same conclusion as he had that night.

"Grod would speak."

"Grod may speak," Brun agreed.

"At first, after I'd led Zoug to my hearth, I completely disapproved of his actions. He'd hit another man, and in front of the women no less." Grod shook his head. "It's unheard of. But when I watched my mate sleep that night, I began thinking. What if someone had attacked her while she was pregnant? And I realised that I couldn't be sure of what I might have done. I still don't approve of Zoug hitting Broud, but I can't judge him if I can't say with certainty that I wouldn't have done the same. I am finished."

Brun was surprised at his second's words. Grod was one of the most traditionally minded men he had ever met. Yet even he shared Brun's thoughts about Zoug's actions.

"Droog would speak."

"Droog may speak."

"Grod is right," the toolmaker said. "We men are supposed to protect our mates. A man may correct a woman if she makes a mistake, but Broud did much more than that, and he knew how bad her health was already and that she was at risk of losing her child. Zoug was right to protect her, even if he went too far. I am finished."

"Who else agrees with Grod and Droog?" Brun asked. "All who do, raise your hands."

Except for Broud, all men raised their hands, even old Dorv, after some hesitation. Brun couldn't deny that he was glad about it; it meant that they would not object to his decision. Although he was the leader and his word was absolute, he'd always liked it much more to know his men were in agreement with him.

"Broud, what are your thoughts about what Zoug did?"

"Hitting another man is unacceptable," Broud signed sharply. "The men need to show unity in front of the women or else the order of the Clan is endangered and the women's iscipline will suffer. He needs to be punished accordingly."

It was as Brun had feared. He had hoped - unwisely, as he now realised - that maybe, after the time he'd had to think about what had happened, Broud might have realised his error. But it was not truly surprising that this was not the case, Brun thought with a heavy heart.

"I have heard from all of you now," he announced, getting up. "The decision was never anything but mine anyway, but I wanted to know how you felt. Zoug."

The old hunter slowly stood.

"You have hit another man in anger, an action that is unbecoming of a man of the Clan. For that, you will be punished. Yet you did so in a desire to protect your pregnant mate, who was attacked by that man. A man has the right and also the duty to protect his mate and her children. The women and children rely on our protection - they would be lost without it. Like Grod, I have been wondering what I would have done had my mate been attacked like this, and I have come to the conclusion that I don't know what my actions would have been. I might have done the same."

He saw astonishment on the faces of the men - they had apparently not expected this admission. It was one thing for one of them, like Grod, to say it, but for the stoic leader to concede that he might have attacked another man in anger, even if to protect his woman, was something else, Brun knew.

"I don't believe," he went on, "that any of us could say with absolute certainty that we would have been able to stay calm had we been in Zoug's place. Therefore, we can't judge him too harshly. But the infraction remains and can't stay without consequences. Zoug, for the next three moons, you are forbidden to hunt. You may repair your weapons and practice with them, but not use them on any living thing. I am finished."

The men were shocked at first. To be barred from hunting was emasculating, the worst kind of punishment imaginable. Even old men like Zoug hunted with the sling for as long as they were able. But then, slowly, understanding - and approval - spread over their faces.

"It's not enough!" Broud contested hotly. "Three moons - we'll be trapped by the snow for at least two more moons, most likely even a third. This isn't a punishment! He wouldn't have been able to go out to hunt anyway!"

"Broud! Be silent! I'm the leader, and I have decided. I haven't given you permission to speak, and you don't have the authority to question me."

Broud lowered his hands as Brun glared at him, and then backed down, averting his eyes first.

"Zoug. Do you have anything to say?" Brun asked.

"This man accepts the punishment," Zoug said with dignified gestures, "and he thanks the leader for his wisdom."

Brun nodded, gratified that Zoug understood his decision and the idea behind it. Broud was right in that winter would last for probably three more moons, in which it wouldn't be possible to hunt anyway - or practice, for that matter. But he was wrong in that it wasn't a punishment. To have your status as a hunter taken away, even symbolically and for a limited time, was severe.

If he was honest with himself, Brun would have liked to simply dismiss the matter and let Zoug off with only a verbal reprimand, and he knew now that the other men, including Zoug, had realised this. But he wasn't sure that it would have been good for his clan in the long run; violence could never be condoned as a means of solving conflict if there was any other way. He didn't want to set a precedent.

Still, this had been the easy part, he thought as both he and Zoug sat back down. Now would come the hard one - now he would have to deal with Broud.