Journey of the Grey Wolf - Durc's story

by avenugoban

My take on what happened to Durc after Ayla left the Clan forever. This story also takes into account the latest findings concerning Neanderthals and their interactions with modern humans.

Journey of the Grey Wolf

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on the works of Jean M Auel's series of novels "Earth's Children". It is not for sale and no profit is being made from it. I respectfully dedicate it to Ms Auel and humbly thank her for her imagining of such wonderful characters and her generosity in sharing them with us.

I would also like to dedicate it to my mother, Fay Wallace. Because she wanted to hear what happened to Ayla's son, Durc. Unfortunately she did not live long enough to hear the end of this story. This is for you, Mum.

This is the journey of Durc, totem the grey wolf, as I imagine it to be.

1

The two boys sighted on the same stump. Each held a sling in one hand with a stone in readiness. Each face held a similar expression of grim determination. At approximately the same time they raised their arms to send their stones flying from their respective slings.

But it was at this point that they differed. For while the taller of the two flung his stone with one smooth and graceful movement that saw it skim close to the stump, nearly grazing it, the shorter, stockier of the two got fouled up somehow; his stone went off at an angle and landed well short of the target. Almost before it had landed, his taller companion had reloaded and launched a second stone, and this found its mark, landing with a satisfying "thwack" against the target stump and bouncing off.

The boys turned to their mentor, who was sitting quietly behind them. Old Zoug carried a staff now to assist him in walking, and he was currently sitting on a conveniently-sized rock as he observed his two charges. Now he nodded slowly.

"Very good, Durc. You've been practising that double-stone technique that I told you about, I see. You have a good eye," he signed. "But Grev, you need to take more time, line up your target and concentrate on it. Don't try to go faster than Durc. You need to focus on the target, not on matching your friend's speed. We must all go at our own pace."

The shorter of the two boys looked down, chastened. "Yes, Zoug," he signed. But Grev was too merry of spirit to be downcast for long. Looking back up, he signed to Durc. "I'm still better than you with a spear though. I was the one who speared that giant hamster yesterday!"

Durc regarded his best friend gravely. "Help me collect some more stones for the slings, so that I may one day match your effort, hunter," he signed.

As the two boys ran about collecting stones from the field for more practice, Brun walked across to Zoug. Standing by the clan's acknowledged best sling-hunter, he regarded the youngsters for a moment. Finally he turned to Zoug, who was quietly watching him.

"The boy has great aptitude for the sling," Brun commented. "Grev still has some way to go to even get close."

Zoug nodded. "Grev thinks, like most young men, that the sling is an old man's weapon. But Durc's mother was teaching him the use of the sling before she was cursed. And you know she was the best sling hunter of the clan. Certainly the best I've ever seen. The boy takes after Ayla in talent. And he respects the weapon. It truly seems easier for him to master."

Brun frowned. Only Zoug could get away with mentioning the name of the woman who had been Durc's mother. At his great age, he would even stare down Broud at his most temperamental. While Zoug lived, nobody in the clan would forget Ayla. But it made Brun uncomfortable to be reminded: it had only happened after he had relinquished leadership to Broud. Almost the first thing that Broud had done upon becoming leader was to bring down a Death Curse upon Ayla, the woman he hated. Brun had more than once had occasion to regret his decision.

Broud had not changed, he was a man who still acted like a child in too many ways, he was impetuous, arrogant, boastful and impatient. The clan had not prospered since he became leader in Brun's wake, and it hurt Brun to think how their status must be diminished when they attended the next Clan Gathering.

He doubted very much that they would be First at the end of it, as they had been for so many years under Brun's careful management. He even wondered, now, if second place would be beyond them. It was a mortifying thought, because to people of the Clan, status was everything…

He was jolted from his morose thoughts at a shout from the stone gatherers. A hare had dashed out from the cover of a bush and been downed by a fast-flung stone. It had been Durc again. The boy had run to the hare, and was standing by it looking stunned as Brun and Zoug hurried across.

"I … I hit it," Durc signed slowly, staring at his two mentors. "I saw it jump out and thought, I can do this…"

Grev, after a momentarily downcast look, was now celebrating his friend's victory by jumping about, punching one hand in the air. "You did it, you did!" he signed excitedly. "We've both made our first kills! You will be this clan's best sling-caster, and I will be the best spear-hunter!"

Durc bent and picked up the hare by its back legs. "I shall give this to Uba," he signed one-handed.

Zoug nodded. While Grev was admiring the hare in his friend's hand, Zoug commented to Brun quietly, "Uba will be rightly proud of the son of her sister," and Brun was reminded, as if he could have forgotten, that their Medicine Woman had adopted Durc after Ayla had been cursed with death and had left the clan forever.

The hunters returned from the plains that evening, and they were not empty-handed, as had been the case more than once lately. Too often, it seemed, Broud, as hunt leader, lacked the patience that was so much a part of hunting big game. The clan depended on singling out an animal and running it into the ground in relays before dispatching it with the heavy spears.

But too often now they could not separate the chosen animal from the rest of the herd, or started them all running in panic before they could get close. It seemed that one in every three hunts ended with the herd in full retreat in a cloud of dust and the hunters left with nothing to show for a day of wasted effort.

But this late summer evening, they returned with a good-sized carcass – a horse or onager. However, something seemed odd about it. In the twilight it was difficult to make out, but as Brun approached, he saw that parts of the carcass seemed to be missing, and there were jagged gaping holes ripped in the hide of the animal. It was being carried on sturdy spears bound together into long poles. Four hunters carried an end each over their shoulders, alternating as they tired with other hunters to transport the heavy load.

Brun and his former second-in-command Grod, although retired from the ranks of active hunters due to age, were still strong and sturdy enough to shoulder one end of a pole each as the hunters approached, Brun relieving Broud and Grod taking over from Droog.

As they marched on towards their cave Brun was able to take a closer look at the carcass. It appeared to have been clumsily butchered and packed back into its own skin. Brun could not work out why this had been done: butchering and processing was a skilled job best left to the women, who were trained from infancy in the intricate task of separating, cutting and drying. What had been done on the onager carcass seemed to be an unnecessary and clumsy job, with bones and meat seemingly flung into the skin and pieces of hide roughly knotted together to keep the insides from falling out. The damage the skin had maintained would make it unusable for anything but the smallest of leather pieces.

Later, with the carcass safely stored in the cave ready for processing in the morning, the hunters trooped to the stream nearby to wash the dust and sweat from their bodies. Brun managed to stop Droog before he followed the others.

"What happened with that carcass, Droog?" Brun signed. "And why is Broud so quiet? Usually the son of my mate would be happy with a successful hunt. However, he has been more silent than I am accustomed to."

Droog looked at Brun; his expression was an unhappy one. "The hunt was not successful," he signed. "Again."

"But… the carcass? It is an onager, is it not?"

Droog nodded. "We were following a small herd of them for most of the day," he said. "Broud wanted us to go after the stallion, a fine big animal. Vorn and Borg agreed with Broud. But I and Crug and Goov though it better to go after one of the others, a smaller female who was limping heavily on an injured leg. We thought she would be easier to catch and the meat more tender besides. However…"

He paused, and Brun nodded understandingly. The older and more experienced hunters would have been overruled by the young leader, his crony Vorn, and Borg, of course. Also, the son of Broud's mate, Brac, recently elevated to the station of hunter, would probably have gone along with Broud's decision. He was the most inexperienced of the hunters due to having only just become a man that season. And Broud was the man of Brac's hearth, as well.

"We managed to get close to the stallion by staying low to the ground, downwind in the long grass," Droog continued. "But we were not the only hunters, as we found out. A pack of wolves had come in from the opposite direction and they went after the mare with the limp. That spooked the rest of the herd, they fled from the wolves towards where we were hiding in the long grass. We weren't ready, not yet in position.

'The stallion was no longer an option, he was too far away, but I managed to get a spear into another animal as it ran past. However, it was a glancing blow and it was not seriously hurt. We wasted some time trying to catch up with the herd, as Broud still wanted the stallion, but they were soon well past our range.

'Broud was very angry. He blamed me for being timid when my spear did not stop the onager. Brun, the herd was panicked, how could any one man stop a stampeding animal that large on his own? It was not timidity on my part, it was the fact that we picked the wrong animal to try to single out.

'However, as we traced our steps back, we saw that the wolves had been more successful than us. They had killed the mare with the limp, and were already feasting on her body. We chased them away, and took the kill. They had not eaten much, but the skin was ruined and the body torn into several pieces. Broud told us to cut it up and pack it all back in the skin to take back to the cave." Droog looked uncomfortable. "That is why Broud is not boasting of what a fine hunt it was," he said miserably. "Because it was a failure once again. And we are reduced to the level of scavengers because of it, chasing wolves away from their kill!"

Now Droog looked up, his eyes full of pain. "Brun, it is hard to bear! Remember our hunts, when you were leader? Do you remember our mammoth hunt, so lucky that not one single hunter was hurt? Now what are we? Not hunters. Nothing more than the vultures eating the leftovers from the kills of others! It is … it is unworthy and humbling!"

"Meat is meat," Brun reminded Droog gently. "When your children are crying with hunger, does it matter who killed the animal that feeds them?"

He watched as Droog went to join the other hunters washing themselves in the stream. But he understood the pain he had seen in the man's eyes. "Oh Broud!" he thought to himself as

he walked slowly back to the cave. "Why do you ignore the advice of hunters more experienced than yourself? You bring shame to the entire clan, son of my mate."

Broud relaxed in front of his hearth fire as his mate served him a meal. It was eaten with no conversation. For once he did not feel like bragging about the hunt that had provided them with meat. He brooded about it, staring into the fire as Oga served her eldest son Brac, her second son Grev, and then sat down to breast feed her baby daughter Eda.

First of all, it was somewhat shameful that a hunter needed to take the kill of wolves. They could have gotten a good big stallion, but no, Droog had to make a fuss and had even persuaded Goov and Crug that an injured mare was the better option. If they had just started out all agreeing with Broud about the stallion, they would not have wasted so much time discussing the pros and cons and it would not have gotten away. And then, Droog didn't even bring down an animal running straight towards him! Droog may be the clan's best tool-maker, but there was no doubt that he was aging. Maybe it was high time he retired from the ranks of the active hunters. They didn't need him anyway. They had enough hunters to be successful without one argumentative old man.

Broud mused about his hunters. In his opinion, most of them made a good team, agreeing with his decisions and praising his victories. Vorn, for instance. He was Broud's second-in-command, he had always admired Broud ever since Broud had mentored him as a child and had raised his status so quickly once he became leader.

Borg had been a man for the past several summers and had shown stamina and courage. He was not a particularly fast runner, but dogged in pursuit.

And the son of Broud's mate, Brac, had become a man in the hunt last year where they had managed to bring down, not one, but two deer after digging a pit trap! What a day of celebration that had been!

Then there was Goov. He was Mog-ur, and although he was Broud's age he had always deferred to Droog, who had been his mother's mate.

That left Crug. Crug generally went along with Broud's point of view, but not always. After Droog, Crug was the oldest hunter. Like Droog, Crug occasionally counselled wasting time. He liked to get as close as humanly possible to a herd of animals, and then study them for hours, working out each ones strengths and weaknesses before finally deciding which one to cut from the herd and run down. Well, maybe it was getting time for Crug to leave the hunt as well, Broud thought petulantly.

"Mother, I've finished eating. May I go?" It was Grev, who had bolted his meal and was getting up, anticipating Oga's acquiescence.

Broud narrowed his eyes as he watched Oga's youngest son receive her nod of permission and leave the hearthstones to walk to the hearth of Vorn. In Broud's opinion Grev spent way too much time with that deformed brat that Vorn's mate had adopted. He averted his eyes, but not before he saw Grev and Durc settle comfortably together by the fire and begin to converse. Uba signed a greeting to Grev and handed him a cup of warm tea, then sat beside the boys, cradling her new baby girl in her arms.

Broud scowled. If he had been leader when the whelp was born, there was no way Durc would have been accepted into the clan. No way he would have been allowed to live, once his gross deformities had been revealed. His slender physique set him apart from the stocky bodies of the rest of the clan just as much as his high domed skull. His legs were too long and spindly, he was nearly as tall as Droog, who was the tallest man in the clan, and Durc was not yet fully grown. Grev was developing heavier brow ridges as he approached manhood, but they were markedly absent on Durc. Durc also had that strange little bump on the bottom of his jaw, just like his cursed mother. No, Broud would never have accepted him, he would have forced the mother to expose him to the elements. And if she had refused, he would have forced her to leave with her malformed brat.

But Brun had been leader when Durc was born, he had accepted him, protected him, mentored him! He showed him just as much favour as he showed to Brac, the eldest son of Broud's mate!

Vorn tolerated the boy, teaching him hunting lore along with Grev, since the pair of boys were seldom apart. Broud blamed Oga for that – she was the one who had fed both Durc and Grev when Durc's mother had lost her milk. The result was that the boys acted more like two-born-together, brothers as much as friends.

No, Vorn acted properly, Broud mused, but it seemed to him that everybody else had a soft spot for Durc, from old Zoug right down to Grev! The only person who seemed to see that he didn't belong was Broud. How could they all be so wilfully blind?

Broud stared into the fire. The real problem was that the boy reminded him of her, the mother. She had been a thorn in his side for as long as he could remember, and he thought he'd won when he'd cursed her with death and thrown her out of the clan. But although the woman was long-gone, her son was still here to remind him and irritate him.

He glanced again at Vorn's hearth and it was uncanny, as if the boy had read his mind. He was watching Broud with an inscrutable, expressionless face. Nothing showed of what he was thinking, but for an instant the leader felt as if it were her face that was looking at him, rather than her son's. He wanted to leap to his feet and stomp that ugly flat face into the dirt, wanted to hear screams as he snapped his bones…

Hunters of the Clan, particularly adult, mature leaders, did not attack other hunters. But then, the boy was no hunter yet, was he? And there were many dangerous beasts out there ready to take an unwary youngster wandering alone with only a sling for protection…

The trouble was that Durc was almost never alone. Either Zoug, or Brun, or even the son of Broud's own mate were constantly with him. Even Brac, thoughtful and quiet, destined in time to become the next leader, favoured the boy. Durc's totem was the Grey Wolf. And this particular wolf was not a loner. He enjoyed the protection of the pack.

The wooden cup of tea Broud had been holding split suddenly under the force of his clenching fist, showering him with tepid tea, and he jumped and dropped it. Oga got up and fussed about, drying him and picking up the pieces of the cup, exclaiming in bemusement over what had happened.

When Broud looked up again at Vorn's hearth, the boy had looked away, and was once more innocently talking to Grev, their hands flying as they conversed in the sign language of the Clan.

Uba returned to her mate's hearth as the rest of the clan were settling down for the night. Grod's mate Uka had been ill lately with consumptive coughing disease and Uba had been treating her. Every night before bed she applied a herbal compress to Uka's chest to loosen her lungs and make it easier to breathe. And she got Uka to drink an infusion made from cherry bark to soothe her cough. This helped to ensure a quiet, restful night for the old woman and her family.

Vorn was already snoring in his furs, and Uba's baby daughter Inga was swaddled beside him in Uba's place, also asleep. Only Durc remained awake, still sitting by the fire. Although the day had been warm, the nights this far into the season were becoming colder as autumn progressed. He motioned an informal greeting to Uba as she returned and began to put away her magic plants.

"How is Uka?" he motioned.

Uba grimaced. "I can ease her cough and chest spasms. But I fear this coming winter will be hard on her." Uba's own mother had died of consumptive coughing disease and Uba feared that would be Uka's fate too. She was well aware that she was only easing the symptoms of the progressive disease, rather than curing it. But there was nothing to be gained by dwelling upon it. She decided to change the subject. "That was a good fat hare you caught today. Your first kill! That means you will have your rite of manhood soon. You and Grev both."

Durc stretched out his legs, sitting beside Uba companionably. "Does it count that I used a sling for my first kill? Grev used a spear."

Uba shook her head. "It doesn't matter the method. The fact is that you provided meat for your hearth and clan. That is what counts."

"Mog-ur says we still have to prove ourselves by going on a cooperative hunt with the men," Durc mused, recalling what Goov had told him earlier. "I don't know how I'd be chasing down an onager or something bigger, like a bison. Or a mammoth!" He looked at Uba, his eyes shining. "Think of hunting mammoth, Uba!"

Uba looked at him fondly. "Mammoth meat is so tender and rich. A worthy animal indeed. We haven't gone on a mammoth hunt since…" She stopped suddenly, her thoughts straying into the past, but it was as if Durc could read her mind

"…since before my mother died," he finished for her. "That was the last time the Clan went hunting mammoth, wasn't it? Before I was born."

Uba nodded, glancing guiltily about to make sure nobody could see them talking. But nearly everybody was in bed now, and who would be discourteous enough to look into another's hearth anyway? Vorn still slept on, oblivious to the conversation between his mate and her adopted son.

"Would she be proud of me, do you think, for catching that hare?" Durc asked Uba There was a wistful look on the boy's face that Uba could not ignore.

"She would be and I believe she is. She is watching you from the Spirit World, Durc. Never doubt it. She loved you. As I do."

Durc frowned. "Broud doesn't like me." It was stated without emphasis. "I don't know why. I fear him, Uba. You've seen how angry he can get when things don't go his way. What did I ever do to make him hate me so much?"

Uba sighed, moving slightly so that her back was to the rest of the sleeping clan, just in case, fearful even with the dim flickering of the firelight and the lateness of the hour that somebody might see what she was signing.

"Broud was always like that, for as long as I can remember," she confided. "He hated… Ayla, your mother, for no good reason that I know. My mother, the medicine woman before me, told me that once he beat Ayla so hard that he nearly killed her. She had been insolent towards him, but nobody had expected such harsh retaliation on his part. Brun had to drag him away from her to get him to stop. And you, Durc, you look somewhat like her – you are tall, as she was. You have the look of the Others about you in some respects. Not so much as she did, but still, I think you remind Broud of her. I do know she regretted her early insolent behaviour towards him, she told me as much. But even though she grew up and put away childish thinking and behaviour, I don't think Broud ever did."

She cast about, trying to lighten the sombre mood. "I dreamed about her last night," she said.

Durc looked at her with interest. Uba had been brought up by the man of her hearth, the sibling of her mother and the most powerful Mog-ur the Clan had ever known, far more powerful than Goov, their current Mog-ur. It was as if he had passed on some of his powers to her. Her dreams, although few, were usually worth listening to. They often seemed to carry a message from the spirit world.

"What did you see?" Durc urged.

"I dreamed that I saw Ayla in a beautiful valley," Uba said. "She looked similar to how I remember her; she was sitting on a rock ledge overlooking the valley. There was a cave behind her, not this cave, another high on a hill above a river. And she had a man sitting by her side. He looked like her, a man of the Others I think, although I have never seen any Others apart from Ayla. But he looked like her, tall and strong, with yellow hair and a golden beard. I know it was the spirit world because there was a horse that walked up from the valley to the ledge and walked right past Ayla and the man as if they were of no concern! The horse had a young foal following her, and it also did not appear at all frightened by the closeness of the two people. They walked right past them and on into the cave behind them, imagine that!"

"The spirit world must be an easy place to hunt," Durc commented.

"She looked happy," Uba continued. "I only had a quick glimpse of her before I woke up but it was enough to reassure me that she is content in the spirit world."

Durc gazed at his adoptive mother affectionately. He was very fond of the medicine woman, she was good to him and he loved her. "I remember her," he said quietly. "Not very clearly. But sometimes she would take me hunting with her and showed me how to use the sling." He gazed around at the rest of the clan. Everybody was now in their furs, sleeping. "You lived here, in this cave, I mean, before the earthquake, didn't you?"

Uba nodded. "This is the only home I've ever known, I was born here. The earth shook the day your mother was … um, left us." It was bad luck to say the word "Death Cursed" out loud. "It is the Clan custom to leave a cave when the earth shakes, it is the spirits of our totems telling us that they are not happy with the home they are in. But Broud had already stated that the spirits were angry with Ayla for disobeying him, and that was why the earth shook. He said the cave was not destroyed, just damaged. He said we would stay.

'The men used ropes and hauled the bigger rocks out." She gestured towards the mouth of the cave. The rocks they had removed were piled in a loose wall on one side acting as a windbreak. "The women and the children cleared the rest of the rubble. And we slept outside for a full moon, well into spring, before we dared to go back in again, in case the spirits were still angry.

'I remember Goov trying to talk Broud into finding another place for us to live, one where the spirits would not be angry. But Goov had only just become Mog-ur, and Broud argued that the danger was over once Ayla was dead."

Her gaze settled on one large boulder, which had been left on the side of the cave, too heavy to shift. Under it lay the bodies of Iza, her mother, and Creb, the man of her hearth, united in death as they had been in life.

"You sound as if you only want a mate so you can relieve your needs! Shouldn't mating be about more than that?"

Grev shrugged. "Well, I'd want a woman who was hard-working and respectful, and could have many children, of course. And a good cook would be nice, too." 2

"I tell you, Brun, I've never seen anybody run so fast as the pair of them!"

Brac was sitting at his ease in the group of men, recounting the day's hunt for the benefit of the older men who had not been there. The weather had turned cold now, and the wind whipped at the remaining leaves on the trees, howling and baffled by the sturdy rock windbreak. The windbreak was further helped by the mammoth hide the men had erected on posts at the cave mouth two days ago and the fire they sat around in the darkening cave was warm and steady. Today's manhood hunt would probably be the last cooperative hunt undertaken until the next warm season.

"Grev, truly is your totem the horse," Brac signed to his younger brother. Both Grev and Durc had been elevated to the status of hunter after that day's successful hunt. "And Durc, your totem may be the grey wolf, but I think the Wolf spirit must have had some help from the Saiga Antelope spirit to give you such speed!" Brac glanced apologetically at Goov. "Not that this man knows anything about the ways of the spirits, Mog-ur," he added deprecatingly.

Goov shook his head in amusement. "Who can say? Truly though, Durc has legs as long as Droog now!"

"Plus better wind than me," Droog put in. "There was no way I was going to be able to plug that hole."

"So what happened?" Brun prompted. "You had the herd circled?"

Brac resumed his tale. "Yes, all except for that one spot. I thought for sure we'd lost them when they broke through in that direction. But then, Durc and Grev had been stationed hiding in the long grass; they each took off at an angle, and it was their speed that managed to turn a couple of the reindeer back from their intended path. And then, Durc used his sling! Against a reindeer!" The young hunter shook his head in admiration. "And it was accurate enough to slow the animal, it hit the back of its head and made it stumble. That slowed it enough that Grev was able to get close and hit it with his spear. And Durc let loose a second stone, that also hit. By the time we others caught up, the animal was dead."

"Grev used a spear. The kill then is credited to Grev," Broud said.

Grev shook his head. "I wouldn't have been able to get close without Durc slowing it down with his stones." He didn't meet the eyes of the man of his hearth – the men had been over this before, as they brought their prize back to the clan. Broud had been insistent that only Grev should be included into the ranks of the hunters.

But Goov, in his capacity as Mog-ur, had overruled him, citing other instances from his long trained memory where comparable joint kills had been credited to both hunters. Broud had been in a filthy temper as a result all the way back to the cave and was having trouble holding his disgust within reasonable levels.

"Who ever heard of anybody trying to kill a reindeer with a sling?" Broud snorted derisively. "The idea is ridiculous; only a fool would try it!"

Durc flushed angrily but said nothing.

However Brac spoke up. His body language was respectful, since Broud was the leader and the man of his hearth besides, but he felt he needed to stand up in defence of the youngest new hunter. "The fact remains, Durc and Grev's quick thinking, speed and use of both weapons did swing the hunt in our favour, Broud. I'm sure we would have lost that deer without it. They work well together."

Mog-ur nodded. "I agree with the son of your mate, Broud. The kill should be credited to both Grev and Durc. It was a clever joint move."

Broud glared angrily at the eldest son of his mate and at the clan's Mog-ur, but chose not to answer. The ancient Customs of the Clan did not support him in this, and he felt angry impotence but held his tongue.

In a swift and graceful gesture, Durc rose from a crouch and mimed the casting of a sling, in re-enactment of the blow that had disabled the reindeer enough to make it falter.

Goov, crouched to one side, jumped up and began to run towards the deer as it stumbled. The clan watched, spellbound. It did not matter that the deer was imaginary, or that the two young hunters did not carry real weapons – the hunt dance was evocative enough that everyone could see it in their mind's eye.

Goov lunged with his spear, even as Durc cast a second stone, and both of them pulled back, out of the way of the deer's kicking hind legs as it collapsed in its death throes. The rest of the hunters rushed up with spears raised dramatically, but it was a foregone conclusion. The deer was dead, and impossible to say whether it had been the spear, the pair of slung stones, or the combination which had killed it.

Suddenly Mog-ur appeared in front of the two young men. He was cloaked in heavy bearskin, and with his face reddened with ochre paste he looked nothing like Goov, the hunting companion that both boys knew and respected. Instead he appeared as a frightening figure from a nightmare. More than one member of the watching clan shuddered in fear at sight of the supernatural vision.

The stillness of the night was disturbed only by the crackling fire and soft wind that sighed through the trees. Off in the distance an owl hooted softly, the haunting sound adding to the sense of anticipation in the waiting clan.

Mog-ur lifted both arms and with smooth flowing motions began an appeal to the spirits to watch over the clan this night to protect them from the malign influences of the Evil Ones, as two new hunters were raised to join the ranks.

He dropped his arms and turned to Durc. A sharp stone knife had appeared in his hand. Swiftly he incised a shallow cut on the young man's chest, a triangle shape followed by a single curved line directly above it, a simple representation of a wolf's head howling at the moon. Dipping his fingers into a bowl of salve, Mog-ur rubbed the cuts on Durc's chest with the antiseptic blackening grease, stopping the trickle of blood and ensuring that a tattoo would form – showing that this man was forever under the protection of the Spirit of the Grey Wolf.

Mog-ur turned his attention to Grev. The stone knife descended once again, and this time carved two roughly "U" shapes, one slightly superimposed over the other, then followed the action with the salve. The marks depicted the two front hoofprints of a running horse. From now on, all who saw the tattoo would know that Grev's protector was the Spirit of the Horse. The horse was a prey animal, but it was fast and strong, a worthy protective spirit for any hunter.

Both young boys, now truly men, withdrew back into their new positions amongst the hunters as Uba, in her role of Medicine Woman, approached Mog-ur. With great solemnity they exchanged the ritual drinks for the men and women's ceremonies. Then the men followed Mog-ur single file into the Place of the Spirits, ready to go back in memory, back to the very ancient beginnings of the Clan.

The winter had set in with a vengeance, with heavy snow dumped outside early in the season, often accompanied by howling blizzards.

Nobody, however, had any need to leave the cosy confines of the cave, except to empty refuse and body waste from tightly-woven baskets filled with dried ash. There was enough food stored and most people had personal projects to work on to keep them occupied. Winter was the time for the men to check their weapons for soundness, to repair or make new ones as needed. The women busied themselves in further working the stored and tanned hides from kills – wraps and foot coverings were made, furs worked to extra softness for sleeping, older hides examined critically and either discarded or repairs made as required.

It was a time of rest and relaxation, of feasts and ceremonies, for working on projects that had been put aside as too time-consuming or complex to be done in the frenetic spring, summer and autumn months, which were all about food gathering and preparation for the brutal Ice Age winter.

Winter was also a time of story-telling, not only for their entertainment value but as instruction for the children in the long oral history of the Clan.

Durc had always enjoyed the wintertime, the close contact with both Grev and Brac, the hunting lore taught to him by Brun and Vorn, and the stories of his mother recalled by old Zoug, who did not care whether Broud glowered at him or not as he told the boy about double-throw techniques and the intricate details involved in casting an accurate sling. It was Zoug who had made Durc his first in a series of slings as the boy grew taller, and last winter Durc had made his own, with Zoug watching proudly and helping with small details.

But something was different this year, and it was easy to see what that was – Grev was not able to spend every waking hour with Durc as he had previously. For Grev was in training.

Since the clan would be leaving in the early spring to attend the once in seven year Clan Gathering, Mog-ur had decided that he needed an acolyte to assist him in his duties once they arrived. Traditionally this was a role undertaken by a male youngster who showed an aptitude – but the training was long and difficult and not to be undertaken unless the lad had a few essential qualities before Mog-ur would undertake the task of inducting him into the mysteries and magic of the Clan's deeper spiritual life.

An exceptional memory was one of the talents required. In this society literacy was still a concept undreamed of; since nothing was written down all records had to be kept in memory and transmitted through the rich sign language and few verbal words of the Clan.

Patience and a willingness to learn was another important attribute, since the training lasted many years and required intense concentration, attention to detail and a thorough knowledge of Clan Custom, rituals and histories as revealed through meditation and direction from Mog-ur. This was necessary, since in the fullness of time the acolyte would become Mog-ur in his turn as the older one retired from the active rank. Along with the position of Leader, Mog-ur was the most important position in the Clan. The two roles of Leader and Mog-ur complemented each other and made for the efficient and smooth running of the Clan.

Mog-ur had been quietly and unobtrusively watching and assessing the clan boys for the position for the past year.

Brac he rejected out-of-hand. Although the young man was quiet, thoughtful and showed intelligence along with a patient and considering manner, he could never be Mog-ur. As the eldest son of the mate of the leader his position was pre-ordained, and no man could be both Leader and Mog-ur, it was against all Custom.

Borg had already been a man when Goov became Mog-ur, and was too old to begin to learn the intricate ways of the position now. Plus he had never shown any interest in becoming an acolyte, wishing only to join the ranks of the hunters without the additional responsibilities that the role of acolyte would entail.

Goov had considered Groob as a real possibility for some time: he was the perfect age to begin training and an attentive child. However it was obvious that Droog had marked the boy out for training as a skilled stone-worker and tool-maker to follow in his footsteps. The youngster was never without his hammerstone and was forever chipping away at flint beside the man of his hearth; he showed promise and had even had some of his completed tools given to the women to use for flensing and hide preparation, to Droog's immense pride.

There had been three more boys born to the clan in the past few years: Borg's mate Ona's first pregnancy had resulted in two-born-together, or twins, both sons. And Crug's mate Ika now had a third child, a sturdy son also. But all three were too young to train yet, none of them being weaned.

Which left two possible candidates: Durc and Grev.

Mog-ur had been impressed by both boys: Durc had a strong aptitude to learn and the focus to sit and listen. He was intelligent and quick-witted. He had what seemed to Goov a phenomenal ability to comprehend numbers and dates, one of the the most magical of Mog-ur's functions. It had taken Creb, the Mog-ur before Goov, many repetitions of the lessons on numbers before Goov, as a new acolyte, could comprehend was he was getting at. Durc, however, managed it with an ease that was astounding.

But he also had a tendency to disregard the lessons behind stories that had to do with Custom, with an unfortunate habit of asking "Why?" or "Why not?" about customs usually regarded by the other members of the clan, and Goov himself, as self-evident, needing no explanation. Mog-ur was hard-put to try to show the lad the reasoning behind some ages-old law that often did not apply to the circumstances which Durc was quick to spot and raise.

Not only that, but Durc had a couple of other serious deficiencies which precluded him from the role – his memory for the past was just not as good as the other members of the clan. Mog-ur had attempted to take him back to the Clan beginnings when he had his manhood ceremony. While Durc could manage it, it seemed far more difficult for him to access the memories when it came to more recent ones. Mog-ur had found he had to step in to help guide the boy, as his memory seemed determined to veer off along a divergent path.

Out of curiosity, Mog-ur had let Durc lead for a little while and had followed along. He saw people he recognized as the Others beginning to populate Durc's ancestral memory. They had looked like Ayla, Durc's mother. Goov had needed to nudge the boy mentally several times to get him back onto the path of the Clan-only memories.

And while Durc could and did make weapons and learn hunting lore with the men as easily as the others, he also had adisconcerting ability to pick up the women's tasks! He was particularly interested in the magic of his adoptive mother Uba. He would ask her questions about herbs she used, wanting to know why this plant as opposed to that was used in a certain way, and did a similar-looking plant have the same effect? Or how did the preparation and storage make any difference to the qualities of the plant used?

Uba had spoken of her concerns on more than one occasion to Mog-ur, although they had kept it in strictest confidence between themselves; Broud already disapproved of the boy and it would not take much for him to oust him from the clan on some pretext or other. The idea that he could actually learn what was gender-linked skill so easily was deeply disturbing to the Clan's traditional and ordered way of life.

So although the idea of Durc as Mog-ur's acolyte was an intriguing one and would give the boy status within the clan, it would also be problematic and exacting for Goov to train him properly.

One other attribute went against Durc as a candidate for the position – appearance. For although everybody in their immediate clan had known Durc all their lives and did not find how he looked to be anything out of the ordinary, other clans and particularly their Mog-urs might not be so accepting. It was not a matter which automatically condemned, of course – Mog-ur-before-Goov had been hideously disfigured and deformed and yet had been the most powerful Holy Man the Clan had ever had. The name of the powerful Mog-ur One Eye was known far and wide to many of the other clans, he had become a legendary figure.

Durc's differences on the other hand were less of disfigurement and more of expectation – too tall for his age, too slender, too flat-faced, his forehead bulged up into a high dome without heavy overhanging brow ridges, and his body, although strong, did not have the barrel-chested sturdiness expected. Although Mog-ur knew he was now close to eight years of age, he had no beard and not so much as fluff had yet appeared on his face. Of course, some boys did not grow facial hair until they were as old as ten years, but Durc had already had his manhood ceremony along with Grev, even though admittedly both had been young for it. Grev had a thin but acceptable beard beginning; but Durc remained as smooth-cheeked as a child. It was a concern, for an unproven and otherwise problematic young acolyte, and a battle which Goov did not wish to have to face with other Mog-urs.

Grev on the other hand was quite adequate for the role of Mog-ur's acolyte: his memory was good and during his manhood ceremony he had no trouble whatsoever in both accessing the early memories and finding the path to more recent ones. He had shown enough intelligence that Goov was sure he would be able to grasp the concept of numbers, with enough training. He had no disconcerting and unsettling questions about Custom and its application; and most importantly, his place was not to become leader while his older brother Brac lived, so there would be no conflict of interest later on.

If something were to happen to Brac that he could not be leader, then that title would pass on to any son Brac's mate may have had. Only if Brac died or was incapacitated without heirs would Grev take on the position of leader of the clan. And as it was, Broud was still leader and likely to remain so for many more years. So the question was moot.

Grev was showing that he was a proficient hunter and with his droll and easy-going nature he was well-liked by everybody in the clan. As far as looks, he was a well-favoured young hunter, with a sturdy body and proud brow ridges. His beard was curling and red, a shade lighter than the hair on his head.

All in all, Mog-ur decided that Grev would make an excellent acolyte, and when the question was put to the young man, he confirmed that he would be very interested in learning more of the mysteries of the Clan's spiritual life. It was considered an honour to be chosen and guaranteed high status in the future.

Broud was also pleased that the second son of his mate would be training as Mog-ur's official acolyte. It appealed to his sense of rightness – the first son of his mate would one day be Leader, aided by and in consultation with his younger brother as Mog-ur. He gave his full agreement to the plan for training Grev.

But all this resulted in Grev being kept so busy with training, often in the cave alcove that was the Place of the Spirits with Mog-ur, that Durc could not spend as much time with his best friend as he was used to. Although he was pleased for Grev, Durc felt at a loose end for a lot of the time now.

"Durc, please! I'm trying to mix this and I can't be answering your questions and watching what I'm doing at the same time!"

Uba was increasingly uncomfortable with her adopted son's interest in her herbal medicines, but this particular medicine was a secret passed down only amongst the Medicine Women of her line, and she was not about to let anybody, and most definitely not a male, know of it, question her about it or even watch her mix the ingredients. It was a mixture she prepared regularly for Goov's mate Ovra, it imparted the female spirit with enough strength to cast out the male impregnating spirit; but if ever males learned of it, its use would be forbidden. But some women, like Ovra, had never had a successful pregnancy. For the sake of their health, repeated miscarriages and stillbirths were best avoided, and this preparation was one which Uba provided to Ovra to make into a daily tea.

Durc sighed. "I'm bored, Uba. Grev is always in the Place of the Spirits with Mog-ur now, and I have nobody to talk to."

Uba sat back on her heels and wiped a strand of hair from her face. Inga was awake on Uba's bed and fussing. "If you want to help, you could go and amuse the baby while I finish making this up," she gestured.

Durc got up compliantly and went to the baby, picking her up, lifting her above his head and smiling at her as she cooed in delight and tried to grab his nose. Uba shook her head to herself; this was another of Durc's peculiarities, that strange facial grimace he made, baring his teeth in happiness rather than in anger, so like Ayla used to do. Plus he enjoyed playing with the baby and took great care of his little "sibling". But at least, Uba thought, he made the grimaces only in the privacy of their hearth. And also, the clan were used to his occasional eccentricities and tended to overlook them on the odd occasion when he forgot himself and made those peculiar panting noises with his mouth open when he was amused.

Uba finished assembling the medicine in the bowl and took the baby off Durc to feed her. Durc lost interest, gazing around the cave.

A group of the men were gathered together, but he did not feel like joining them: the group consisted of Broud and his cronies, and Durc knew he would not be welcome there, no matter that he was now a man and a hunter. Zoug, Brun and Grod were at Brun's hearth talking. But Durc felt like company more his own age.

He brightened when he saw Brac working by himself, straightening a new spear, and he walked across to him. On receiving a welcoming nod of acknowledgement and greeting from the young hunter, Durc sat down beside him.

"Durc, your presence is most welcome. I could do with some advice – I have been struggling with this weapon now for most of the morning and no matter how much I heat and steam it, I cannot get it straight." Brac handed him the spear.

Durc examined the proffered weapon carefully, squinting along its length. He laid it on the flat stone floor and saw that it had a definite kink in it.

"You see?" Brac said. "The wood is warped. Should I bother to continue with it, do you think?"

Durc knew that Brac was far more experienced in the construction of a spear than he was, but he appreciated being included in the discussion. He ran his hands along the length of the spear. "You could try cutting it along one side, several small cuts here, see? Then steaming it again," he ventured. "Oh, but that might not be such a good idea, to make deep cuts in the shaft of a spear?"

Brac considered the suggestion gravely, but then shook his head. "It would weaken the wood, the spear would be unreliable. No, I think I'll just cut it into pieces and let mother use it for firewood!" he joked. He reached to the side where he had a couple of other lengths of wood ready for processing. He picked up one and began to strip bark from it, talking with quick conversational gestures as he did so.

"Speaking of fires, I will soon be making my own hearth," he said proudly.

Durc nodded. "I know, I saw Mog-ur discussing it with Broud. Are you pleased to be mating with Igra?"

Brac nodded. "I am pleased enough. Igra is a hard worker, and comely. She is a credit to Crug and Ika's training, and we get along well. I think she will be a good mate for me."

"It is a good match for her," Durc said. "When you are leader, she will be second only to the Medicine Woman in status."

"Mog-ur will have us mated before we go to the Clan Gathering in spring," Brac gestured. "And what about you, Durc? You were promised as mate when you were a baby to Ura, in Norg's clan. Are you looking forward to being the man of your own hearth?"

Durc shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't feel ready yet," he admitted. "I'd sooner just stay with Uba and Vorn for longer. I know I am a man, but … I don't know, I still feel as if I am a boy. I don't like the idea of my own hearth, my own mate. I probably will later, I mean, everybody does, don't they? But just not yet."

Brac nodded understandingly. "I wouldn't worry about it. You and Grev are both very young to have made your first kills and had your manhood ceremonies. I was talking to Brun about it and he said he expected to have Ura return with us, but not as your mate straight away. Because it is unlikely that she will be a woman yet. If Uba is happy to let you continue as the son of her hearth, I don't think anybody will force you out before you are ready! I know I only started to think about setting up my own hearth recently, when Igra became a woman, old enough to mate. And as much as I think Igra will be a good mate, there is no way she can cook as well as my mother! I will miss Oga's cooking when I leave Broud's hearth!"

"But if Ura comes back with us after the Clan Gathering, who can she stay with?" Durc said. "You know Broud will not take her, his feelings about deformities are well-known."

"I was thinking about that as well," Brac said. "I hope you don't think me presumptuous, but I asked Brun for his opinion."

Durc shook his head. "I appreciate you taking the time on my behalf," he admitted.

"Brun spoke to Mog-ur about the problem, and Mog-ur offered a solution," Brac informed him. "Mog-ur said that Ura could stay at his hearth with he and Ovra, at least until she becomes a woman and you can make your own hearth with her. They have no children, so have the space to share."

"Oh, that is good of them!" Durc said with relief. "I was worried about that."

Brac glanced at him shrewdly. "You had no say in this, your mother and Ura's arranged it between themselves when you and she were both babies, Brun told me. It's no wonder you aren't looking forward to it; you have never met Ura and know nothing about her."

Durc nodded. "I'm surprised Broud is honouring the agreement made," he admitted. "You know how he feels about me…"

Brac looked uncomfortable; he was well aware of the man of his hearth's animosity toward Durc, although the reasoning escaped him. And while Brac loved Broud, he was aware of his failings as well. As far as temperament was concerned, Brac felt far closer to Brun, the leader before Broud. Brac respected Brun more than anybody he had ever known, and always felt privileged to be able to talk to him about the way he had led the clan in the past.

"Brun said that a Mother's Agreement is no business for a hunter to concern himself with, it is women's business and has to be honoured," he told Durc. "This was last spring, before you became a man. Broud was going to block the mating simply by refusing to let Ura into our clan. But Brun was outraged, he said that it was he who had accepted Ura into the clan when he was leader, and that the acceptance still stood. Mog-ur backed him up in this, and one night when we had a ceremony he took us back with him in memory and showed us some examples. Mog-ur said the spirits would be greatly angered if a male meddles in something which is women's business. They might even make the ground shake again, or make all of our hunts unsuccessful, or send Ice Mountain to crush us. Broud had no choice but to accept that Ura will come to live with us. Deformities or no deformities. Although he did say he was within his rights not to accept Ura if she could not work or will be a burden to the clan because of them."

"Well, I can hunt pretty well despite mine. I mean, I just look a little different from everybody else, but I am strong and healthy, not at all sickly," Durc said. "I wonder what she looks like? I can't remember Ura at all, but Uba says she looked very like me, and even as a baby she seemed perfectly healthy. Uba says she had the high forehead and thinner bones and neck like me. She said she could almost have been my sibling, we looked so similar."

"You look a lot like your mother," Brac said. "I remember her, a little, she set my arm when it was broken on our Mammoth hunt." He flexed his arm and Durc could see the scarring the hyena's teeth had left on the skin, although the arm itself was sound and strong, the musculature underlying the scars normal. "I was only young at the time, but I remember her hair, so light and fine, and her eyes, which were the colour of the sky at dawn. She was the only Other I have ever seen, but they are not so very different. They are people too, just not Clan people."

"I hope Ura and I get on," Durc admitted. "I'd like somebody I can talk to. Like I can talk with Uba, or with Grev or you. Sort of friendly and easy. The other hunters are all polite enough, but I never feel exactly like I'm welcome when Broud is there. Goov is friendly to me, as is Droog. Even Vorn is fond of me, although he can only show it towards me at his hearth. But he is different when the leader is there."

Brac nodded; it was something he had observed as well. "Don't take it to heart," he advised the downcast young man. "Remember, Broud will not be leader of this clan forever." He pointed at his own chest. "I will be the next, in the fullness of time and spirits willing. And with Grev destined one day to become Mog-ur, I will have need of a reliable and loyal second in command. I can think of no other hunter I'd rather have by my side than you, Durc."

Durc stared at Brac, thunderstruck. He could barely dare to believe it. "Me?" he breathed the word, then continued in gestures. "You think … I … could someday be your second, Brac?"

Brac held up one hand, palm down, then gestured, "Hopefully it will be many years yet before Broud steps down as leader. But yes, why should I not have a smart and agile young hunter as my second? By the time I become leader, Vorn also will likely be thinking of retiring from the ranks of hunters. And since you are the adopted son of Vorn's mate, how can Broud argue against it? It is fitting, well within Custom. Tell me," he added, "on our last hunt, what made you decide to try slinging a stone at a reindeer? I was sure it couldn't work, but the way you and Grev worked together that day made it seem so logical. How long were you planning that?"

Durc looked a bit sheepish. "The truth is, I thought of it only as the reindeer looked about to vanish in a cloud of dust! I was so angry, thinking that my manhood hunt would be a failure, that I dropped the spear I was carrying and reached for my sling. My thinking was that I would at least speed the animal on its way with a couple of bruises to remember me by!"

Brac stared at him for a moment. "Do you mean to tell me that you were just giving in to a fit of anger? It wasn't some well-reasoned plan you and Grev cooked up between you?' Suddenly Brac's body language transformed to admiring amusement. "Oh, don't tell that to anybody but me!" he implored. "I will keep that tale like a sign from my totem! Every hunter thinks that you both worked out a cunning plan and enacted it perfectly. That is brilliant, Durc!"

Durc gave in to the grin that was forcing its way onto his face. He knew that Brac would understand the meaning of the grimace and not blame him for it, and he felt exultant in the praise of the future leader. He nodded. "I always carry my sling, I can use the spear but do find it a little difficult to wield," he admitted, indicating the heavy lance-like spears that Brac was working on, the preferred weapon of Clan men for hunting big game. He would not dream of telling any of the other hunters, but he found the heavy spear clumsy and unwieldy to use; Durc had a wiry strength for his age, but the muscles of his upper body were just not as strong as the other hunters. He found it hard enough to just carry the spear, much less use it in the thrusting motion of the other men, who used strength and momentum to run the spear into the prey once they were close enough. But here with Brac he felt confident that his difficulties would not be ridiculed. "I didn't think that a stone would even hurt a deer, much less slow it down enough to allow Grev to spear it."

Women began to call mates and children for their midday meals.

Durc stood up, then hesitated. "May I … tell Uba what you told me?" he motioned, still unable to fully believe it was true. "About me being your second one day?"

Brac nodded kindly. His eyes still sparkled with amusement at what Durc had told him. "Yes. But just Uba," he cautioned. "For now."

Durc nodded gravely. "I will tell only Uba," he agreed, then indicated the warped wooden spear. "If you have no further use for that, may I have it?" he asked. "I would like to try that idea about cutting notches to straighten it, and I will not feel bad about ruining it if the idea doesn't work."

"By all means." And Brac handed him the heavy spear. "May you have more luck with it than I have had."

Brac watched thoughtfully as the youth walked away. Durc is unusual, he thought to himself. Full of ideas and contradictions, a constant surprise. He will make an ideal second to my leadership. He has … a way of thinking around problems, and coming up with solutions that I know would never occur to me, but which work. Like hunting reindeer with a sling!

Then, glancing at the men sitting by the fire at the entrance, he noticed the man of his hearth watching Durc as well, and his gaze was anything but admiring. As Brac stood to go to his lunch, he wondered again why the leader had such dislike of his newest hunter. I will not tell him of my plan to make Durc my second, Brac thought to himself. But when I am leader, Broud can make no objection then.

Durc had no chance to speak to Uba over lunch, since Vorn was at the hearth. Here in the privacy of his own hearth, Vorn was full of approval that Durc was working on a spear that Brac had cut.

"I was Broud's best friend when we were children," he recalled. "And he mentored me once we became men, just like Brac is doing with you. That's the mark of a good leader, one who takes an interest in the younger hunter's education."

Durc used the opportunity of Vorn's good mood to ask the older hunter about his idea to use a series of notches to straighten the shaft.

Vorn looked surprised. "But why bother, Durc? There are many more straighter trees that can be cut down for a spear."

"I just want to see what will happen if I try," Durc explained, having trouble articulating what he felt, this curiosity about the way the world worked, and his attempts at experimentation. He often had this problem – the people of the Clan did not often think in an abstract way, and had difficulty coming up with new concepts, preferring to use the tried and true methods stored in their long memories. Why bother tinkering with something if it was easier to just make a new one, was the way their thinking leaned.

Vorn stood up to leave the hearth but gave a kindly look at the lad as he did so. He glanced about for the leader, but Broud was not in sight, so Vorn gave the lad's sandy coloured hair an affectionate tousle. "Well, whatever you want to do it for, it's good to see you concentrating on the art of hunting with a proper weapon," he said. "Not that you're not good with that sling, mind. I think you're the best sling hunter we ever had in this clan."

Uba had left to join the other women in some cooperative effort, and since he was now alone at the hearth, Durc got to work, busily using his flint knife to make the cuts.

He soon saw that his idea was not going to work – the shaft did indeed weaken as Brac had thought, and snapped off altogether a third of the way to the end along the curved portion. He was about to give up and put the wood onto the pile used in the fire when he noticed the change in weight in the longer piece. He hefted it experimentally, looking at it. Certainly this piece fit his hand better than the longer lances of the hunters. He wondered if he could work on the remaining two thirds by shaving off some of the excess weight; might he still have a decent spear at the end, although short? A strange thought, one which his brain alone of the Clan was eminently suited to make, occurred to him.

In his mind's eye he saw himself with the lighter, shorter spear, and rather than using it as a lance to ram into an animal, he was throwing it. Not with a sling, obviously, but using his own muscle power to give it impetus. That way he could not only carry several smaller, lighter spears along on the hunt, but also have no need to get as close to prey as the hunters typically had to. Too often the bigger animals they hunted, such as bison, were vicious and could turn on the man hunting them and trample or kill. And even a cornered boar was a cantankerous and dangerous animal, with its sharp tusks. Plus the smaller, fleeter animals often could not be run down at all, to get close enough to spear. A thrown spear, on the other hand, could make such a difference.

He had no memory of whether or not such a weapon had ever been used. He resolved to ask Mog-ur about it when he had the chance.

He shaved off long thin pieces of wood from the main shaft, lightening its overall weight while still keeping the strength he desired. Now that the warped part of the upper shaft was gone, it was a good, fine-grained length of wood. He busily smoothed and sanded it, and then charred the end over the fire, scraping it to a sharp point.

As he was doing so, Grev came out of the Place of the Spirits with Mog-ur and looked about.

Seeing Durc at Vorn's hearth he walked over, helping himself to a piece of meat left by his mother from his own hearth as he passed by. Chewing on it, he flopped down on the mat beside Durc.

"Oh, I am wiped out!" he exclaimed melodramatically. "My head aches with all the things that Mog-ur expects me to learn. What's that you're doing? Looks like a spear for a child."

Durc told him about the idea he'd had, but Grev was sceptical. "Would it even go through the hide of an animal?" he asked.

Durc shrugged. "I won't know until I've tried it. But even if it only works as well as my sling, it will slow down an animal enough for you to catch up with it, Horse Spirit Totem."

Grev still looked doubtful. He stood and tried to imagine throwing a spear, but he had to concentrate to overcome the limitation of his arm joints and the movement was clumsy. Durc took the spear and stood as well. With it held easily in one hand he mimed the movement he thought would be needed to throw it. His arm joints had a different articulation to Grev's, he lacked the great upper body strength of the other men of the Clan but it was compensated for with greater flexibility in the joints. Without actually throwing the spear, he mimed the motion needed a second time, and felt satisfied that, with practise the coming spring, he would be able to at least hit what he was aiming at. Whether or not it would do anything to slow down the prey was another matter.

Durc sat down again on the mat and put the finished spear beside him. There was nothing more he could do with it now apart from practise with it, and he wasn't about to do that inside the cave. His mind was still on the conversation he'd had with Brac that morning concerning mating.

"Grev, have you ever thought about getting mated?" he asked.

Grev took another bite of his food. "Oh yes, more and more lately," he answered. "But there are no unmated women of my age in this clan." He heaved a sigh. "I suppose I'll have to wait and try to find somebody at the Clan Gathering in the spring."

Durc looked at him in surprise. "Do you mean to say that you want to be a mated man, and start your own hearth?"

Grev nodded emphatically. "I do. Ever since my beard began to grow, I've had to relieve my needs. It's embarrassing to have to keep on asking Borg if I can borrow his mate. Sometimes even twice in one day! Borg and Ona are always nice to me about it, but I'm glad I'm now officially a man; imagine having to ask a thing like that if I hadn't had my manhood rites yet! I envy you Durc, you have a mate all ready and waiting for you at the Clan Gathering. I wish I did, it would save a lot of trouble."

"What about how she looks?" Durc asked, thinking again about Ura and wondering. "Brac was saying that he is pleased to be mating Igra, he said she was comely."

Grev made a dismissive gesure. "Prff! Who cares about how she looks? I imagine one warm body in the furs at night is the same as any other. Aren't you excited about getting to meet your future mate in the spring?"

Now it was Durc's turn to shrug. "I don't know anything about her, apart from the fact that she's deformed, and that's the only reason my mother and hers made their agreement. If there were any unmated women here in this clan, I think I'd prefer one of them to be my mate. Or I could just stay with Uba and Vorn. My beard hasn't started to grow, I have no needs to be relieved yet. What if Ura is not strong? Or if her deformity makes it impossible for her to have children?"

"Well," Grev said consideringly, "if she can't work, or is not strong, I expect Broud won't let her come back with us. But you're deformed, Durc. Oh, don't give me that look," he added. "You're my best and oldest friend; I regard you as my brother just as much as I do Brac, even though you and I have different mothers. We're more like two born together, and you know, when I look at you, I just see Durc. My friend and my brother. Not any of the other things that you seem to be so worried about. I have to really think about it now to see your differences. At least wait until we get to the Clan Gathering before setting your mind against Ura. I imagine she's pretty scared at the moment – she's going to be the one who has to leave her family and clan, everything she's ever known, and she's probably just as apprehensive about you as you are of her. She probably wonders what will happen to her if you can't provide for her as a mate should. You and I both know that you're the best sling hunter of this clan, and that you can hunt just as well as any other hunter here. But she doesn't know that yet."

Durc stared at his friend with surprise. He hadn't thought of it in quite those terms before. And he was warmed that Grev considered him, not only his friend, but his brother.

3

Spring came early that year, and the clan took full advantage to gather what they could in the few short weeks before they were due to leave for the Clan Gathering. They needed to stockpile as much as they could now, since a good part of the spring would be spent in travelling to the site, and there would be no hunting this summer. Winter was always on their minds, so the people were very busy getting in a surplus now, while they still could.

The clan hosting the Gathering this year lived several weeks travel due west, on a rocky promontory overlooking the sea. Brun and Grod knew of it, having been there many years earlier on a group hunt for mammoth. They were discussing their memories of the place one morning for the benefit of the younger men, before they left for the day's communal hunt.

"They live under a large overhang, well back from high tide," Brun was saying. "I remember the people there made … platforms, out of logs lashed together, they go far out to sea and catch fish. They used shaped logs to push their platforms through the water."

Grod, who was listening, shuddered slightly. "Do you remember, Brun," he signed, "how the women would take off their wraps, rub themselves all over with fat, then dive into the ocean from their platforms?"

"What were they doing that for?" Grev asked. He was suddenly very interested at the thought, his mind's eye filled with images of young, nubile women divesting their wraps to rub fat on each other's bodies …

"They were diving down to the bottom of the shallower waters and would bring up nets full of mussels and lobsters and crabs. They were very skilled, and could hold their breath for a long time," Brun answered. "When I spoke to the mate of one of the women, he said that they did not have much in the way of edible plants in their country. So they lived mainly off the sea and the women collected smaller seafood close to shore while the men put well out to sea to hunt the big fish."

"Yes, but why rub fat on themselves?" Grev persisted.

"That was for the warmth. It was autumn when we got there, and getting very cold. But the women would dive regardless. They only stopped when the sea iced over in winter."

Grod shook his head. "There's no way I'd do it." Like most of Broud's clan, who lived inland, he had never learned to swim. "I don't like going into the water, not even for our sturgeon hunt in summer."

"The people of Goud's clan were all strong swimmers," Brun said. "They didn't fear either the water or the cold. I suppose you get used to it if you're doing it every day. Even the children knew how to swim like little fish."

Droog drained his cup of tea and stood, stretching. "It looks like the fog is starting to clear a bit," he announced to the group. "If we're going hunting today, we should start now."

The main hunting party began to collect at the cave entrance. Durc and Grev each carried, instead of a heavy lance-like spear, several smaller, lighter javelin-like spears, meant to be thrown. Both of them had been practising with the spears every clear day during winter, usually going outside to the rock windbreak, and both had become skilled enough that the other hunters refrained from mocking them over their flight of fancy. They had seen how effective the new weapons were. Even Broud, though he scowled when he saw them coming to the entrance with the lighter spears, said nothing.

But both Durc and Grev knew that today would be a test – although they had been able to accurately cast a spear with enough force to penetrate the old hide they had pegged out and used as target practice, this was the first time that they would be using them against real, living animals. And if they failed to at least make a telling wound with their weapons, they knew they would not be allowed to use them again. The clan depended too much on cooperative hunting to allow practice on flesh and blood animals, practice which might allow the prey to escape.

The hunting party stood on the ridge. From that vantage point they could see over the vast plains. They were covered already with new green grass, and a herd of bison could be seen, moving slowly as they ate the tasty vegetation. The fog swirled around the herd, making it appear ghostlike and ethereal.

Leaving the ridge, the hunters fell into a ground-eating jog, approaching the herd downwind. Although the grass was not yet tall enough to hide them, the fog was still thick enough that the men were able to avoid notice by the huge animals.

Broud watched the herd closely. There were a pair of young bulls play fighting on the edge of the herd, and Broud signalled that one of those should be the target. The men darted off, still using the thinning fog for cover, fanning out and getting into position, all eyes on the leader.

Another silent signal from Broud, and the men sprang towards the herd, yelping and shouting and waving their arms. Startled animals ran to the main body of the herd, and Durc and Grev put their speed to good use, dashing between the main herd that was closing up and beginning to run, and the two young bulls.

Once the two had been separated from the herd, the men began their usual strategy of running one of the animals to exhaustion, preventing it from rejoining their herd which was now in full retreat, stampeding away to the north.

One after another of the men who had fanned out ahead and hidden in the swirling mist jumped up shouting and waving as the chosen animal dashed past, sometimes adding a blow or deep laceration with their lance, panicking it further and weakening it from blood loss.

Finally the young bull stopped, too exhausted to keep running, its sides heaving. Instantly Broud, Droog and Goov, who were closest, stepped up and drove their heavy fire-hardened spears into the tough hide. The bison bellowed as it collapsed and the three men jumped back as the animal's heavy hooves pawed the air in final death throes before finally laying still.

The other men, panting hard, ran from their positions and gathered in a group around the dead animal. Broud looked up and saw Durc and Grev approaching through the swirling mist and sneered.

"What was the point of bringing those useless weapons with you?" he signed, heavy sarcasm in his stance. "Maybe you should have brought your sling, Durc, and tried to kill a bison with that instead!"

Suddenly Vorn, who was at the back of the group, shouted a warning. "Look out!"

The others all turned and saw the second young bison barrelling down on them at full speed. Broud, Droog and Goov were weaponless, having left their spears in the bull they had felled.

Together, as if they had practiced for just such an eventuality, Durc and Grev stood side by side and threw their spears at the charging bull.

Durc's spear caught the animal through the throat, and Grev's spear, thrown just an instant later, ripped through the fur and hide of the chest.

The spears penetrated deeply and the bison stopped as if surprised, then staggered as its legs gave way and it fell abruptly to the ground. Two more thrown spears skewered it though the exposed abdomen, killing it.

For an instant the two young men stood stunned, then they yelled exultantly, jumping around and punching the air. They had done it, together they had killed a bison without having to run it to exhaustion first, with spears thrown so they did not have to even get close to the animal! They had been three or four long strides away, yet the bison lay dead!

The other hunters stared, before first Brac, then Droog, Borg, Crug, and even Vorn, with an apologetic glance at Broud, joined in the celebration. Goov, conscious of his dignity as Mog-ur, looked as if he would have liked to join them. Instead he strode to the leader, who was open-mouthed in amazement.

"The second son of your mate and the son of Vorn's mate have done well," he signed. "Those new weapons have just proved their usefulness."

Broud turned on Goov angrily. "I will not be using them! We have always used our spears, not those light-weight sticks! They've always been good enough for us!"

"But Broud," Goov remonstrated, "look at what we have achieved! Two bison! We will have to get the women out here to butcher and dry the meat, there is no way we can carry this mountain back to the cave otherwise."

"Do what you will!" Broud said furiously. "I want no part of any animal brought down by a … a child's toy spear!"

He turned abruptly away from Goov, stalking off into the mist. Goov stared after him for a moment, then returned to the group of celebrating men. It occurred to him that it would be a very good idea if Durc and Grev stayed out of Broud's way for the time being to allow the leader to calm down.

"Durc! Grev!" he called.

The two young man turned to him, their eyes shining.

"You did well, your weapons have proved themselves," Goov said, with dignity appropriate to Mog-ur. "But now we need two good, fast runners to go fetch the women from the cave. Tell them to bring their tools to butcher and dry the animals on the plain, and lead them back here."

He toned down the dignity a little, became once more Goov the hunting companion. "And you may very well have saved myself, and Droog, and Broud as well, from at least being trampled or gored. Let all men here see that I am grateful to you both, for your speed, your quick thinking – and for your new weapons. And well done!" he signed heartily, beaming as the two young hunters as they set off back to the cave at full speed.

The unexpected windfall of two bison in the one hunt made the clan much easier in their minds about a spring and summer spent largely without hunting. The women butchered, dried and processed the meat, fat, hide, organs and sinew out on the plain, camping out over three days to achieve it, before taking the still huge amount of dried meat back to the cave for storage.

And the older men, those no longer able to hunt big game, had been just as busy, tracking through the woods surrounding the cave with their slings, traps and bolas, tracking and hunting smaller, more elusive game. Grod had been lucky enough to fell a young chamois with his sling when he saw it had strayed away from its hilly home in search of new grass. Chamois were valuable: not just for their meat but for the soft leather their hides made. And Brun killed a wild sow. He sustained a nasty gash on the leg from her tusks, but still managed to drag the heavy body, limping, all the way back to the cave.

Uba tutted to herself and treated the wound, carefully washing it to flush out any evil spirits. Pig tusks were notoriously dirty and wounds made by them could fester unless precautions were taken. Uba was the foremost Medicine Woman, not just of her own clan, but of all the clans, having been the biological daughter of Iza, who had also been First. By drawing on her long memory, Uba knew every treatment that Iza had known. She applied a poultice, then bound the wound with a soft rabbit skin covering to prevent bleeding, and also gave Brun a pain-relieving tea.

"Will I still be able to walk to the Gathering?" Brun asked with concern.

Uba sat back on her heels, having done what she could, and considered. "So long as all the evil spirits have been washed out and defeated by the magic plants, and provided you rest the leg for the next few days, I think you will be able to manage," she signed at last. "But you will need a sturdy staff to lean on, to take the weight off that leg as much as possible. I will ask Durc to cut me one to your size. Your leg will become swollen, that is to be expected as the magic battles the evil spirits. But if you see anything unusual or the pain becomes too bad, I will need to be told of it."

Suddenly there was a shout from the entrance. Old Zoug, with his sling, leaning heavily on his own staff, hobbled in with the carcasses of two young piglets slung over his shoulders!

"I saw that sow was nursing," he signed happily when he had dropped the piglets to the ground at Grod's hearth. "So I thought to go back along your track a little way, Brun. And guess what I saw, following their mother's scent? These! There were a few more, but they scattered and ran off after I dropped the first pair with my sling."

Zoug looked immensely proud of himself; the old man had been restricted to the cave lately as his legs began to fail him, making him hobble with arthritis. But he was still a hunter, and the tender piglets were shared by the whole clan that evening, with compliments paid to Zoug, who glowed with elation. Along with the first new greens of spring, suckling pig and a haunch of bison, it was a communal feast, welcoming in the new season and celebrating the continued existence of their community.

Grev held the bowl of yellow ochre carefully, very much aware that this was the first real ceremony where he was participating as Acolyte to Mog-ur.

Brac stood nervously in front of the holy man, and waited for Crug to bring forth the daughter of his mate. Ika looked on with pride, happy that her daughter was making such a good match to the future leader of the clan.

Igra, dressed in a new wrap, watched her feet as she walked forward closely behind Crug. However, it was obvious from her stance that she was very happy with the choice that had been made. She sat down gracefully, cross-legged in front of Brac, keeping her eyes demurely on the ground.

Mog-ur addressed the spirits, calling them with the fully silent symbols of the old language to attend this ceremony. Then he dipped his finger into the bowl of yellow ochre, and painted the symbol of Brac's Cave Hyena totem over the symbol of Igra's Lark totem, blurring the mark and showing Brac's dominance.

"Spirit of Cave Hyena, Totem of Brac, your sign has overcome Spirit of Lark, Totem of Igra," Mog-ur gestured. "May Ursus allow that it will always be so. Brac, do you accept this woman as your mate?"

Brac answered by tapping Igra's shoulder and motioning her to follow him into the cave to the place newly outlined with small rocks that was now Brac's. Igra jumped up and followed behind her new mate into the cave to their hearth to begin the period of isolation from the rest of the clan.

The period of isolation was going to be a little more difficult to carry out this time: the clan was due to begin travelling to the Gathering in a few days' time. In the frenetic days leading up to the mating ceremony, Brac could not be spared from the hunters as they attempted to gather enough meat to last them for next winter; therefore he could not mate any earlier.

Mog-ur had meditated and found a solution to the problem, one that satisfied Custom: Brac and Igra would still be isolated while they travelled, placed at the back of the clan's travelling hierarchy, a few paces behind the others, so that the two week isolation could be seen to be completed correctly and the spirits kept happy that the clan was observing the age-old custom, while still allowing the young couple to participate in the journey to the Gathering.

The whole clan, with the exception of the newly-mated couple, stayed seated around the fire. It was time for stories to be told and they waited to see which of the elders would step up. It was with surprise that they saw Zoug had hauled himself to his feet in readiness - the old man rarely told stories anymore, it was too energetic an activity since his arthritis had become so advanced, but his successful hunt of the piglets the day before seemed to have energised him. Grod, who had been getting to his feet in readiness, sat back down, readily yielding the floor to the former mate of his mother, the oldest man in the clan.

Zoug shuffled out onto the beaten earth in front of the fire and began. "This story is not one shrouded in the mist of time," he signed. "This is a story that is still within the memory of living people, men and women. All but the youngest in this clan know of this story, because they lived through it."

The watching clan leaned forward, their interest piqued. A new story? But one they all knew? What could it be?

"The Spirit of Cave Hyena hated the Spirit of Wolverine. The two spirits shared territory, as they do in life, with poor grace. The Spirit of Wolverine had recently taken into his protection a young boy born to the clan. But not just any boy. This was the son of the mate of the future leader, a young boy who was the joy of the then-leader, the best and fairest leader the clan had ever known. Everybody loved the youngster and had high hopes for him. The Spirit of Cave Hyena had wanted to be his protector, but the Spirit of Wolverine had persuaded the Mog-ur of the time that he was the better option. Accordingly, the boy was delivered into the protection of the Spirit of Wolverine.

'The clan at this time was prosperous and its status was first amongst all clans in the land. They decided to go on a mammoth hunt. Now, as you all well know, mammoth hunting is fraught with danger. But this hunt was lucky! So lucky that not one hunter was harmed during it, and a huge female mammoth was captured and killed.

'The women set to work on the butchering, and while they were busily working, the Spirit of the Cave Hyena was watching them, through the eyes of one of his own, a living cave hyena. He lurked around the edges of the working clan, watching and waiting, for he had seen that the Spirit of Wolverine was shirking his duty, and was leaving the young boy unprotected, the child was playing on the edges of the place where the clan was working. And the Spirit of the Cave Hyena wanted to show to Mog-ur that he had been wrong to give the boy into the protection of the Wolverine Spirit over him."

The clan was totally silent, utterly absorbed in this new story. Everybody now knew that this was the story of Brac and Ayla. All had seen, heard, lived through the time and knew of how "a hunter" had killed the hyena that had tried to drag away an infant Brac after the mammoth hunt. They also knew who was alluded to when that particular hunter was mentioned. But her name was never spoken aloud.

Brun, the "best and fairest leader the clan had ever known", glanced apprehensively at Broud's face. The son of Brun's mate and current leader was watching impassively, his face giving nothing away. Yet Brun could see that Broud, too, knew that this was no simple story, told for entertainment's sake alone. It seemed to him that the subtle disdain with which Zoug had always regarded the young leader was being played out in deadly earnest. For Broud had cursed the woman Ayla with Death; she was not supposed to be mentioned ever again. Gone and forgotten. But here was a story about her. A true story, nobody could say it was not an honest history, and couched in the form of a story, which, once seen by the raptly-watching clan, would go into their long-term memories, never to be forgotten, to be told and re-told in many story-telling sessions into the future.

Zoug was continuing, getting into his stride. "The Cave Hyena watched and waited for his chance. At a time when the men and women were busy and nobody was watching the small boy, he struck! He seized the boy by the arm, and began to run away from the clan with him. The boy screamed in terror and tried to fight back but he was small, oh so small! How could be fight against an animal that size, and worse, one that was being used by the Spirit himself? In his jealousy, the Cave Hyena Spirit had decided to take the young boy back with him to the world of the Spirits, to be lost to the clan forever!"

Oga, Brac's mother, was listening with a hand over her mouth in horror, reliving the horrible moment when she realized that she was too far away to save her little first-born son. The others all listened with bated breath. Even those who had been there were leaning forward, waiting for the next part of the story.

"Well, everybody gave chase. The mate of the boy's mother even tried to use his sling, but he was too far away, and the stone could not reach.

'The Spirit of Wolverine was dismayed, for he knew he could never hope to catch up with the long legs and fury of the Spirit of the Cave Hyena. In desperation, he called out to the other spirits for help. But none would answer, for all were fearful of the anger of the Cave Hyena spirit. All except for one: a spirit who was fair and beloved of Great Ursus. The Wolverine spirit cried out, and the Spirit of the Cave Lion decided to act.

'Now, at this time the Spirit of the Cave Lion had under his protection a young girl. This girl had not been born Clan, but had been adopted by the Medicine Woman of the time. Everybody had been amazed when the Mog-ur had revealed what her totem was. The strongest of all totems apart from Ursus, a totem that rarely gave his protection even to the strongest hunters, had picked a strange young girl for his patronage? Yet the Mog-ur of the time had been adamant and his word stood. And indeed, how could anybody doubt once they saw that the girl had been marked by the Cave Lion himself, with the correct Totem sign? The young girl was acknowledged as under the protection of the mighty Cave Lion spirit.

'This young girl had been told by her totem that it was his wish that she learn to hunt with a weapon. But she was female, and knew what the punishment would be if the clan knew. Yet how could she defy the wish of her mighty totem? So she learned in secret, practising and becoming so skilled with the sling that she was the best in the clan, probably in all the clans. And when the Spirit of the Cave Lion directed her to save the boy's life, the Cave Hyena was not out of her range, which far exceeded that of the other sling-hunters." Here Zoug paused and his enigmatic gaze fell on Broud, as if to say, You cannot dispute it. You tried with the sling and you failed.

"She had kept her secret for a number of years. But when the little boy was in danger and her totem moved her to save his life, she did not hesitate. She took out her sling from where it had been hidden in her wrap, and thwak, thwak! The Spirit of the Cave Lion drove the Spirit of Cave Hyena out and away as the body of the animal fell dead to the ground, felled by two sling-shot stones."

The clan as one heaved a great sigh of relief. Brun was the only one who noticed Broud stand up and walk away from the story-telling. He did not rage or storm, he simply rose and walked quietly away, just as he might if he needed to go and relieve his bladder. But something about the very lack of his usual reaction put Brun on edge. He shook his head and turned back to hear the rest of the story.

"Well, the young boy's arm was badly mauled and broken from the jaws of the Cave Hyena, but the woman who had saved his life was also a skilled Medicine Woman. She not only saved his life, but set his arm and treated him so that he would have full use of his arm, although he would carry the teethmarks of the hyena for the rest of his life. She ensured that he could participate in the clan as a hunter when the time came. He could still fulfil his destiny of one day becoming Leader.

'And when the clan returned to their cave, Mog-ur announced that the Spirit of Wolverine had renounced his protection of the boy, since he had failed in his duty. The Spirit of Hyena was his new totem, as attested by the teeth marks on his arm. Spirit of Cave Hyena would never again threaten the child, but protect and aid him as compensation for trying to steal him away.

'But what of the young woman who had saved not only his life, but continuing use as a full member and hunter of the clan? For the customs made no distinction: they say a woman who uses a weapon, she must pay with her life. However, there are other customs, of obligation, that say a life saved is a life owed.

'The leader was in a quandary: for how could he condemn to death the one who had saved the life of the little boy? He called a Council of all the men to discuss it with them. They all raised valid points: the young woman had been hunting for a long time, at the behest of her powerful totem, who had given her a sign that such was his wish. Could she be condemned for obeying what her protector wanted her to do? Wouldn't the Cave Lion spirit be angry with the clan if they then went against his wishes? Others raised the idea that the spirits were not angry with the clan; the woman had been hunting for a long time and the clan had been having good luck with every hunt, including the mammoth hunt.

'The leader pondered for a long time. In the end, he decided that he had to Curse her with Death, there was just no alternative. But he gave her a chance – he made the Curse of limited duration, one full moon's time. Well, nobody expected her to survive and come back from that, of course. It was so long, longer than anybody had ever survived a limited Death curse before. A few days, maybe. But a whole moon cycle?

'But, her totem had decided to go to the Shadow Lands and fight the evil spirits for her. She told me later that she was put in a small cave under much snow and she stayed there while her powerful protector kept her enemies at bay. So after one moon's duration, she returned to us. And in a special, a unique ceremony, she became the Woman Who Hunts. She was allowed to use the sling as her weapon, and allowed to hunt to feed her family and clan. And I…I was proud to call her my friend. I say to you all now, as we celebrate the mating of our next leader, remember the one who saved his life. Remember Ayla!"

Zoug shuffled back to his place and sat down, with help from Grod.

Durc turned with shining eyes to Uba, who was sitting beside him. "Uba! Zoug was taking about my mother, wasn't he? He was talking about Ayla!"

The whole clan were conversing about the amazing story and the spoken name of Ayla echoed in the evening air.

"It's true," Brun thought to himself. "While Zoug lives, Ayla will never be forgotten. And now he had found a way to make her name live into time immemorial, through that story. It has entered the history of our clan, and will never be forgotten."

But he felt a chill run down his back. Perhaps it was just because it was so early in the season, and the nights outside the cave were still cold. Or perhaps it was his memory of how the son of his mate had met the eyes of Zoug. And the coldness he had glimpsed there, just for a second, had been more chilling than a glacier.

Zoug woke up in the middle of the night. His old bladder forced him out from beneath his warm furs more often during the nights lately.

With a stifled groan he gripped the big boulder that Durc and Grev had put beside his bed to make it easier for him to sit, and used that to lever himself up, trying to suppress his gasps of pain as his arthritic joints twanged in protest. He wrapped his warm outer cloak about his shoulders but did not need to put on shoes – he kept his hide shoes on when he went to bed at night now, his feet got horribly cold and would cramp up painfully if he didn't. Finally standing, he reached for the staff leaning against the rock and headed for the cave entrance.

He wondered now and then why his spirit totem had granted him so many years. Certainly he had never expected to outlive his contemporaries by such a span of time. Each Clan Gathering, he was sure, would be his last, and each time he was proved wrong. He wouldn't be going this time again, of course. There was no way his old worn-out knees and hips would carry him that far. But this year for company he would have the son of his mate, Grod, who was staying to be with his ailing mate Uka. She was too weak with consumptive disease to walk the whole long distance.

For a moment Zoug wondered what they would do when Uka died; it was obvious that she was failing. He was fond of the woman and would miss her, but also, he lived at Grod's hearth, and he supposed that he and Grod would have to move into Mog-ur's hearth to be with the only other female member of their immediate family, Mog-ur's mate Ovra.

What a pity Ovra never had any children, he mused to himself as he reached the cave entrance and headed for the nearest tree to relieve himself. She has always been a good, dutiful and respectful mate to Goov. And I know there is real affection between the pair of them.

He pushed his cloak out of the way, fumbled with his wrap and finally sighed with relief as his water went frothing against the tree.

It was very quiet tonight; the only sound was the occasional spat of a raindrop on a leaf. It must have rained heavily earlier, and outside of the paving-stoned area at the front of the cave was a slippery, muddy quagmire, another good reason to leave his shoes on.

The stars had come out, but the night was still very dark as clouds chased each other across the face of the moon. Zoug pulled his wrap back down and furled his cloak more securely around his shoulders as he turned to go back inside the cave.

And then stopped. Had that shadow by the rock been there when he came out?

It moved suddenly, with a predatory grace, and Zoug felt his heart begin to beat faster with fear as he went to raise his staff to defend himself. Then the shadow was on him, and Zoug felt the tremendous shove against his chest and he was falling backwards. The air left his lungs as he hit the ground, and he tried to yell, to alert the clan, but he couldn't draw breath. He struggled feebly as he felt his nostrils pinched shut and his lower jaw held closed. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe!

His last conscious thought was, "Grod will be the only one to move to Mog-ur's hearth…"

4

Broud took the cup of hot tea Oga handed him and strolled from his hearth to the cave entrance, sipping it. So it was he who first spotted the pathetic bundle lying in the mud outside. He ran to the body of Zoug.

The old hunter's eyes were open, but there was no light of life in them. And when Broud touched the corpse, he felt the stone-cold stiffness of death. Nevertheless, he hurriedly felt for a pulse, at the throat, at the elbow, even at the groin, but there was nothing. Some more overnight rain had fallen; Zoug's outer wrap sparkled in the rising sun with a myriad of rainbow droplets.

Broud turned to see Oga watching from the cave mouth with wide eyes. "Get Uba!" he gestured urgently.

Most of the clan was up and out now, alerted by the Leader's actions; they clustered around the body. Every face held a shocked look. Ovra began to keen and turned to her mate, burying her head in Goov's chest.

"Zoug! No, oh no!" Durc flung himself down in the mud beside his mentor, with Grev half a step behind him. Together, the two young men pleaded with frantic signals for Zoug to get up, to stand, to live. Grod, his face a mask of sorrow, took Ovra gently from Mog-ur. Then Goov and Brun took both young men by the shoulders and urged them back, as Uba came forward to examine the body.

She knelt beside Broud in the cold mud, and repeated his check for a pulse, even holding her cheek in front of Zoug's nose to see if there was any sign of breath; sometimes, if a person had not been left too long without breath, if there was still even a spark of the living spirit left within, they could be revived. But this case was hopeless. She sat back on her haunches and shook her head sadly.

"Respected Medicine Woman," Broud asked with the formality due from a Leader to a woman of Uba's heritage and training. "How do you think this man died?"

Uba studied the body before her, trying not to think of the man she had known and respected all her life.

"There are too many people here," she signed back to the Leader. "They have stirred up the mud. But I can see here," and she pointed to the feet, "there appears to be a slip mark in the mud. I would guess that Zoug came out here, probably to loose his water. As he turned, he may have slipped and fallen."

Carefully Uba lifted the old man's head, noting the stiffness of rigor mortis that had definitely set in. Her fingers probed the injury she could feel where Zoug's head hit the ground.

"It's … odd," she mused out loud. "The ground is not hard enough to cause any significant injury. He has a small wound at the back of his head, but not what I would consider serious enough to cause death. Although … it may be that the fall itself was caused by his heart muscle failing. In which case the fall would not be what killed him, but the heart attack."

She got closer and peered into Zoug's eyes. "There are the little blood spots that appear in the eyes when a person cannot breathe," she signed to Broud. "This Medicine Woman believes that Zoug's heart was attacked by an evil spirit, which caused the fall. As his heart muscle failed, he was unable to breathe, causing the bleeding in the eyes. That may also be why he was unable to call for help, and died," she finished, bowing her head.

Broud stood up and addressed the clan. "We will bury Zoug with all honour today. He was an old and respected member of the clan who will be sorely missed." He quickly assigned hunters to make up a litter to carry the body back into the cave, and then signed to Goov. "Mog-ur, I would speak with you about the funeral ceremony."

Durc stared for a moment longer at the body of the man who had been his mentor for so long, as he was gently laid onto a litter. Then, as Grod covered the old man with his own outer fur, covering his face, Durc gave an inarticulate cry and ran off into the woods surrounding the cave.

Grev found Durc not long afterwards, sitting on a fallen log with his head in his hands, sobbing. Tears wet his face, but Grev was used to his friend's idiosyncracies. He draped the warm fur cloak he had been carrying around Durc's shoulders, then sat beside him and handed him a pair of hide shoes.

"Here," he motioned. "It's still too cold to be running around with bare feet."

Durc glanced ruefully at his feet, which were blue with cold. He hadn't noticed before, but now he realized they ached. Gratefully he stuffed his feet into the shoes.

Together the two young men sat and remembered Zoug.

"He was old," Grev signed at last. "Older than Brun, older than anybody I ever knew. It's not surprising that an evil spirit could attack him."

Durc nodded. "He was so happy when he killed those piglets," he said with a watery grimace of a smile. "And then, that story he told about my mother and Brac! I had heard it before, but not told quite like that. Out in the open, without whispering her name like it was some sort of shameful secret that she saved Brac's life. I'm grateful that Zoug did that. It feels like a parting gift to me."

Grev rose and looked at his friend with concern. "Do you feel up to coming back now? I want to help the others dig a burial hole for him."

Durc wiped his face on the cloak, then heaved a big sigh. "Yes. I will come. We two loved him just as much as Grod and Ovra did. We should help to bury him."

They stood and walked back to the cave together.

It was a subdued clan that left the cave two days later. Zoug had been buried with due ceremony; however the usual light-hearted sense of anticipation at the onset of a journey to the Clan Gathering was missing. The old man's death was on everybody's mind, and it felt as if a dark cloud of ill omen was hanging over the group as they bade farewell to Grod, Uka, and Uka's daughter Ovra, who had decided to stay at the cave to help care for her ailing mother.

Uba had given Ovra instructions and preparations to ease Uka's symptoms, but the medicine woman knew that no treatment now could cure the older woman. Privately she wondered if Uka would still be alive when the clan returned to their home cave in the autumn. Ovra's mate Mog-ur would travel with the family of his mother's mate, Droog, but it was evident to all how much it cost him to leave the mate he cared for so deeply. It was clear to all that, had Goov been just another of Broud's hunters, he would have stayed with his mate and her mother. But as Mog-ur, he had other responsibilities, to the clan, to the spirit world, that took the decision out of his hands.

The host clan for the Gathering this year lived due west on a peninsula of the Black Sea, but the clan needed to skirt the high country and glacial ice directly in their path. They therefore set a course that veered slightly to the north of west, which would change to true west once they were past the mountainous area.

They travelled at a steady pace, following their own shadows in the mornings and squinting into the setting sun in the afternoons. Overnight camps with good water were relatively easy to find, since the melting snow of winter and the rains of spring had caused the birth of innumerable small streams, creeks, rivulets and water holes, many of which would be dry by summer's end.

The clan relied on Brun's memories of his previous visit as a young man to guide them. Goov also knew the way; at the last Clan Gathering it had been decided that Goud's clan on the coast would be the next chosen host to allow the far western clans to participate. During the last Gathering, Goov had been Acolyte to Mog-ur-before-him. The acolytes had all attended a special ceremony with the Mog-urs they served. They had shared memories, and Goov could draw on that collective knowledge stored in his brain. He would have been able to guide the clan if Brun had been unable to.

Every Gathering was staggered like this so that no one clan would have to bear the burden of so many people descending on their territory and overstretching resources more than once in the seven years between Gatherings. Clans at the farther ends of each east-west corridor across the continent held their own separate Gatherings of local clans.

Goud's clan was as far to the west as possible before it would be too far away, and therefore impractical, for the people of the eastern clans, such as Norg's clan, to travel to. Those clans to the east of Norg's clan would have their own Gathering.

The further they got from their home cave and territory, the more the dark pall that had been cast over them by the death of Zoug seemed to lift. As day followed sunny day, most came to accept that Zoug had been very old. He had led a good, honourable life and at least, most people assured themselves, he had not suffered too much in the end. Although he had been arthritic, he had kept his sight, his hearing, his long memory and enough of his teeth to chew his own food. He had been able to talk to others and had not needed members of his family to pre-chew his food for him, a requirement of those people who had lost all or most of their teeth.

Plus the heart attack had been mercifully quick, with no painful symptoms dragging on for days. It was well-known that evil spirits could and did attack the old, the young and the weak, but most people had little to fear from them.

All in all, the clan reassured themselves, Zoug had led a good, useful life and had a relatively easy death. The majority of the clan hoped that Zoug would be content in the spirit world, and would watch over those left here in the temporal world with a kindly eye.

The weather warmed perceptibly as the clan wound their way towards the coast, heading now due west. They had seen a flock of monstrous birds once they had gotten away from the foothills of the mountain, and the biggest was at least three times taller than Droog and Durc, who were the two tallest men in the clan.

Pachystruthio was a massive bird which lived in Eurasia to the Middle Pleistocene. It was estimated as standing 3.5 meters tall and weighing up to 450 kg, making it much larger than the modern ostrich and one of the largest known birds.

But the hunters had been hesitant to attack them – even the juveniles in the flock were fearsomely huge and there was some uneasy mutterings as to whether they were spirit birds and not flesh and blood animals at all. The birds had long necks and legs and apparently no wings, but it was still obvious they were birds, as they were covered with feathers and had fierce-looking beaks. When the flock caught sight of the humans approaching, they stood their ground for a moment, then turned as one and fled, running in an ungainly but speedy manner on their long, strong legs with their necks outstretched and their heavy feet thumping on the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

It was a clear, pleasantly warm day. Durc and Grev were in the rear of the group, walking with Brac companionably. He and Igra had finished their matrimonial isolation period by now.

The three young men wore the short leather garments commonly worn in summer by men, wrapped and tucked at the waist, as they paced lightly along at the back of the main group, where their youth and inexperience placed them until they could earn more status in the hunt as they matured.

Durc carried a pair of plump marmosets dangling from the leather fold at his waist, while Grev had a bird, not one of the monstrous big things they had been seeing more and more lately, more like a ptarmigan in spring plumage. There was still a good assortment of smaller animals living on these poorer soils and the clan did not hesitate to take advantage of them, hunting on the go with slings and bolas so they did not have to rely too heavily on their travelling rations for food.

Grev breathed in deeply. "I'm sure I can smell the sea now," he signed. "And it's so much warmer now, it feels like summer. We must be very close."

Brac gave his younger brother an amused look. "Brun told me we still have some way to travel yet, by his memory, to reach the cave of Goud's clan. And Mog-ur agreed with him."

"How many days?" Durc asked with interest.

Brac looked blank. "As many as there are," he signed at last, with a shrug.

The Clan in general had problems with abstractions such as time, and relied on their Mog-urs for such things as needed to be counted. Brac had needed to be told by Mog-ur that his period of ritual isolation was finished so that he could resume contact with the rest of the clan again. He could think in short time periods, such as hours or even one or two days, or long periods such as seasons, but many days, or weeks, were too difficult. The people of the Clan did not even have words for periods of time like weeks; there was today, tomorrow, and then the rest faded into an indeterminate "future". They could tell what time of the month it was by looking at the regular phases of the moon, but how many days made that up was beyond all but the highly-trained Mog-urs and their acolytes.

"Well," Durc persisted, "Not tomorrow, probably. And perhaps not the next day. The day after that?" He had his mother's ability, which had surprised Mog-ur so much, of understanding such abstractions as time, with no training whatsoever, and with an almost supernatural ease.

"That would make three days," Grev said, proudly using the counting words that Mog-ur had been painstakingly teaching him. He held out his fist with three fingers extended, then signed, "just like the group of us make three people, and the animals we caught this morning, Durc, make three animals. When you put them together."

Brac shook his head. "I'm glad you are going to be Mog-ur, Grev, rather than me. I can hardly understand a word you and Durc were just talking about! I have no idea what people and the animals you caught have got to do with where we're going, or how far it is."

"I will ask Mog-ur when we camp for the night," Grev signed. "Although he did try to share the memory of the journey with me before we left, so I could understand it. I got some of it, and I can feel we are close. I picked up the memory of the sea best of all. And I'm sure I can smell the ocean now!"

By noon three days later, Grev was proved right. Topping a slight rise in the ground, the clan was suddenly dazzled by a vista of bright blue water, sparkling in the sunlight. It was a pleasant spot to stop early to rest. The women gratefully put down bundles and children and began to gather wood for a fire.

Brun, in his capacity as guide, the leader Broud, his second in command Vorn, and Mog-ur all conferred.

"It's difficult to say," Brun mused, staring about with his brow furrowed as he thought back to the joint clan mammoth hunt of his youth. "When we got to Goud's clan previously it was later in the day, the sun was setting. I think we may have been further south then."

Mog-ur nodded. "I agree. In the memory I have, that mountain behind us was further in that direction, just slightly," and he indicated. "I think we need to turn south now and follow the coast until we find them."

They decided to make an early camp in the sandy hills overlooking the sea, and spent the warm afternoon finding shellfish and fishing in rock pools. That night was something of a celebration – their stomachs full of the fruits of the sea, lying on the soft sand under their low-pitched tents and watching the flames from driftwood fires flicker and sway, anticipating the next day, marking the end of their long trek and the fellowship of other Clan people.

5

The sun had set in glorious tones and day had melted into twilight when they found Goud's clan the next day. They had been seeing signs of human habitation in the area all that afternoon while they travelled; cleared spaces and places where trees had been cut with flint choppers; places where foragers had dug up plants and left the ground disturbed by digging sticks; a line of flattish rocks crossing a stream in a way that did not appear entirely natural, that hinted this was a regular fording spot where stepping stones had been added by people.

By late afternoon they saw the spire of smoke from cooking fires, and paths converging and leading onwards, made by human feet. Even though they were all tired, they decided to push on to the end of their journey rather than stop and make camp for the night. They headed on, guided now by the warm glow of a fire visible in the distance.

They topped a final ridge. The sea was visible as a dark amorphous mass in the near distance and there was the quiet regular sound of waves washing ceaselessly in and out. The tired clan saw a large group of people congregated under a rock overhang well back from the high tide level, sitting around several large flickering firepits. Durc stared: he could not remember ever having seen so many people in his life before. He had not learned enough from Mog-ur to have the words, this was hand after uncountable hand! A multitude. Nearly three hundred people were grouped together there. Were there so many clans in the world?

There was a shout as Broud's clan was spotted, then some people detached themselves from the main cluster and strode towards them.

"Brun! Is that you?" asked the man in the lead, holding a lit torch high in one hand.

"Jorg!" Brun exclaimed warmly. Remembering protocol, he turned to Broud and said formally, "Broud, this is Jorg, first son of the mate of Goud, leader of this clan. Jorg, this is Broud, son of my mate and now leader of this clan."

Jorg turned to Broud. "Broud, I am Jorg, now leader of this clan, as Goud was before me. I bid you welcome and invite you to accept the hospitality of myself and my clan."

Broud nodded. With equal formality he signed, "Jorg, I thank you on behalf of myself and my clan for your offer of hospitality. I accept gladly."

Jorg turned and gestured to one of the women who was watching with the crowd of people, all gazing with interest at the new arrivals. "My mate Enba will show your clan to the cave you can use for the duration of the Gathering."

Enba took a torch from a young woman which had been lit from the main fire pit, beckoned, and began to lead the clan towards a low embankment to the side of the rock overhang.

Falling into step beside Brun as the clan gratefully followed Enba, Jorg said, "It has been too long, Brun, since we last saw each other, when we were young men together hunting the mammoth."

Brun nodded, thinking back. Jorg had been quite a bit younger than Brun, just barely a man, and very excited to be included in the hunt. Brun had taken the youngster under his wing then; it still felt odd that he was now fully grown, and a leader in his own right. "Is Goud here?" he asked. "I would pay my respects to him."

Jorg shook his head. "Goud walks the spirit world now," he stated sadly. "We were far out at sea one day, hunting on our rafts, and a storm blew up. Goud was washed overboard and the

waves took him under, despite him being a strong swimmer."

Brun shook his head, in sympathy but also bemusement. What Jorg said about waves and rafts made very little sense to him. However, hunting accidents were an accepted part of life and death in the Clan, on the land and apparently on the ocean also. "I respected Goud very much," Brun said. "Please accept my condolences on your loss."

Jorg nodded. "It was many seasons ago that we lost him. I have been leader since then. And what of the Leader-before-you? He was a brave man, a good leader."

"Like Goud, Doorv is also in the spirit world," Brun answered. "He passed over not long after we returned from the mammoth hunt with your clan. He was trampled by a bison we were hunting. We took him back to the cave, but were unable to save him. Great Ursus called him back." To change the gloomy subject, Brun stated, "You did not attend the last Gathering, held at Norg's clan. I looked for you and your clan, until Norg told me that you would be attending the Northern Gathering instead."

"We had some evil spirits running through our clan in the winter leading up to the Gathering," Jorg replied. "Nobody died, fortunately. But it made us late in starting out, and once our Mog-ur decreed that the evil spirits had been defeated and cast out, it was well into spring. Too late for us to start off for the east. It was decided that we would go to the Gathering held in the north. It is nearer and we have kin there. We sent runners to inform Norg and offer our apologies. Norg sent back with our runners the message that he and his clan would travel here for the next Gathering. They have not arrived yet, but all the other nearer clans are here. We expect Norg any day now."

The clan could see the embankment now, a low hill, about twice the height of Droog and Durc. There was a dark hole in the embankment, and the clan realized that it was an entrance, just above the average height of a man, and curiously regular.

Enba entered and held the torch up as Broud's clan followed her. Inside was a round cave, once again curiously regular, with smooth walls, a flat dirt floor and a domed roof.

A hearth fire was laid ready inside the entrance, with a hole in the roof directly above to let out the smoke. Enba touched her torch to this fireplace and the dry sticks of wood caught, lighting the inside of the cave with a warm and welcoming glow. A pile of large stones were laid to one side against the wall, ready to be moved to demarcate family hearths, with logs and kindling for family fires. Full water skins were set out beside the rocks, with a pile of woven mats for seating to one side. Even dried grass for bedding had thoughtfully been provided, in several big heaps next to the mats. The cave looked roomy and comfortable, with more than enough room for all the members of Broud's clan.

Enba folded gracefully onto her knees in front of Broud and waited for him to tap her shoulder. When he did, she looked up and signed formally, "This is your cave while the Gathering is held. We hope that it will suit you and be comfortable."

Broud looked around, nodding, then signed back to Enba and Jorg, standing beside her, "Your clan is fortunate to have found such comfortable caves. We didn't see any on our way here."

Enba looked down politely, but Brun was puzzled. He turned to address Jorg, who still stood beside him. "I don't recall there being any caves at all, Jorg, when I was here before. Didn't your clan used to set up tents under the rock overhang?"

Jorg looked amused. He gripped Brun's shoulder. "Many things have changed here, my friend, since we hunted the mammoth! And I know you must have questions. But now is not the time. I can see you are all tired, your youngsters half-asleep on their feet. But we will discuss it more in the morning, I promise."

He made a gesture and a young man and woman, who had also entered the cave, walked to his side. Addressing Broud, Jorg said, "This is Goln, one of my hunters, and his mate Ega. They will spend tonight in a tent just outside the entrance to your cave Should you have need of anything, food, furs, anything at all, please do request it of them and they will see you are provided for." Once more he looked at Brun, including him in the conversation. "I look forward to talking to you in the morning. We have much to discuss."

Durc heard a sound, the soft scuff of a hide shoe against the dirt floor, and opened his eyes blearily. Grev and Mog-ur were up in the dim pre-dawn light and about to exit the cave.

Grev saw Durc was awake and held his finger to his lips, then signed quickly, "Mog-ur and I go to meet with the Mog-urs and acolytes who have arrived. Go back to sleep, it is still very early."

Durc shut his eyes, but once they'd left he found he could not settle back to sleep. Instead, he yawned and stretched, then sat up quietly.

His clan was still asleep, all around he could hear quiet breathing and the occasional snore. Banked hearth fires had burned down to embers overnight. Dawn was making its way feebly through the entrance of their cave, and down through the open smoke hole in the roof.

Uba, Vorn and baby Inga were still wrapped in their warm furs, fast asleep, but Durc wanted to be up, to explore more of this clan, and meet some of the other people who had travelled here for the Gathering. Now that he was finally here, he did not want to waste his time sleeping!

Moving quietly so as not to wake his family or the others, he slipped out of his furs, and wrapped the topmost one about his shoulders. It was still early enough in the season for the nights to be cold and he wore only a short wrap about his hips at bedtime. He donned his hide shoes and slipped out the entrance.

Outside, all was quiet and still. To the side of the entrance was a tent inside of which he could see the sleeping forms of Goln and Ega. In the distance he could make out the sea, washing up and back in its eternal dance with the shore, along with a soft, almost subliminal sussuration as the waves broke on the beach.

The rock overhang that protected Jorg's clan was a short way to the right, and now that the sky was lighter, Durc could see that it was not, as he had assumed last night, tents pitched under the overhang, but several more embankments similar to the one with the cave in which he and his clan had passed such a comfortable night. In each of the embankments he could discern darker patches which must be entrances to caves, but they were all so very regular, they reminded him more of communal mud-wasp nests rather than a natural series of caves.

There was a fire going in the firepit he had seen the night before, and somebody was sitting beside it on a log of driftwood. He could make out in the lightening gloom that the person was tending a hide pot and he hoped there was some warm tea available. He headed in that direction.

As he neared, his feet crunched on gravel and the person looked up. She was in the act of putting a stone, heated from the fire, into the hide pot to make the water boil. The stone was held between two sticks. But as he approached, she stopped what she was doing, the stone held suspended in the air above the pot, and frankly stared at him.

Durc didn't think to reprimand her for her rudeness: he was staring at her with the same fascinated gaze. Because the young woman, or more likely, still a girl, had the darkest skin he had ever seen! It was a rich, deep brown. Her hair was jet black and curled in tight little ringlets hanging down past her shoulders. Durc had never seen hair in such long, curly profusion before, and jet-black hair was unusual; the people of his Clan all tended to have straight hair, or at most, wavy, with colouring in lighter shades of brown and rust red. His own was straight and an unusual, although not unique, sandy shade of blonde.

The girl had another attribute which he could see now that she was staring right at him – her forehead had a look to it that he had seen in himself whenever he gazed into the pool of still water outside the cave of his Clan. Like Durc, she had the Clan brow ridges, but not nearly so heavy as the rest of the people Durc was used to seeing. And her head rose up in a dome, just like his did! Her nose was petite, and beneath her mouth, with its very full lips, Durc could see a bony projection, a chin, just like his!

The girl suddenly realized she was staring, and looked down in confusion. Realizing she was still holding the cooking stone, she dropped it into the hide pot and gave Durc a shy look.

"Would like some tea?" she signed to him. "Please, sit down, this girl will get for you."

Durc moved closer slowly, slightly unnerved by her. He knew from conversations he'd had with Mog-ur that he was the result of mixed spirits. His mother had been an Other, but of course the spirit that defeated hers and allowed her to become pregnant with him had been a Clan spirit. Mog-ur had speculated that that was the reason why Durc looked so very different from the rest – to the people he was brought up amongst, such mixed spirits were a deformity, but Mog-ur was wise and had thought deeply about this. He reasoned that the mixing of the different spirits were not so much a deformity as a modification, each spirit vying for dominance and leading to both Durc's body and features showing aspects of both sides of his spirit heritage. Now Durc wondered if the appearance of this girl could also be a result of, not deformity, but mixed spirits.

He sat down on a flattish stone put by the fire and remembered to accept her offer. "I will have tea," he signed back. Then, feeling more was required, added, "This man's name is Durc. I am of Broud's clan."

The girl started slightly and peered at him more closely. "Man?" she repeated. "But … you have no beard …"

Suddenly she looked extremely embarrassed. "Please forgive this girl's rudeness," she signed contritely. "I mistook you for a boy. This girl did not mean to offend the hunter."

Durc waved away the consideration. Athough by the standards of his clan she had been rude, in such unusual circumstances her mistake was understandable, he was very young to be considered a man. Plus he was full of questions to ask her.

"I made my first kill early," he explained. "My beard has not yet begun to grow, although I am included in the hunts and I have had my manhood rites. Tell me, what is your name?"

"This girl's name is Kalli." She scooped out some tea from the now simmering pot and handed him a wooden cup. Taking a cup herself, she sat back and signed one-handed to him. "Forgive me…Durg? Name-word I not know."

"Durc," he corrected. "I was named for the Durc of the legend," he continued, and saw understanding come to her face.

"Kalli knows of that legend," she confirmed, taking a sip of her tea, her fascinated gaze now moderated. "Forgive my presumption in staring so rudely before, Durc. You remind me, a little, of the mate of my older sister. For he has hair similar to your colour, and skin the same colour as well. He is also very tall, like you."

"Would it be impolite of me to ask how your skin is that colour?" Durc signed. "I have never seen such a dark shade before." He found himself fascinated by Kalli's appearance, and as he was becoming used to it, he was not repelled as he had earlier, in youthful arrogance, imagined he'd feel on meeting another deformed person. In fact, she was very appealing, once he stopped trying to imagine her in the shape and colouring of a Clan woman.

"All of my clan have varying shades of dark skin," Kalli replied. "Our ancestors were Clan fisher people, living on the coast of a great ocean far to the south of here. One of our legends tells of how a group of people were on their rafts and were caught in a huge storm. The waves took them far across the ocean and they found another land, where all the people were tall and black-skinned. They were Others. Over time the Clan people taught them to speak in the Clan manner, with hands, so they could communicate and hunt together. The Clan people took mates and made families with the Others. But the Clan people could not speak with the mouth like the Others, yet the Others could use their hands to speak like the Clan. The legend says they were very happy in their new land.

'But then a great famine struck, the waterholes and rivers dried up and the animals they hunted on the land began to die. The families of Others and Clan kept fishing to feed themselves but the famine did not end. So they took their mates and children and kin and returned to this land."

Durc was fascinated by the story. "Did they ever go back, to that distant land of Others?" he asked.

Kalli nodded. "Yes. Now and then, but it was a long way to travel, and hazardous. My clan are now made up of the dark- skinned Others from across the sea, and those of the Clan who travelled over the sea. Their spirits mixed and we all look similar to myself. We are the Sea Kin clan. But Durc startled me for a moment. You have Sea Kin …" she struggled to find the word, gesturing instead to her forehead and then chin.

"Features?" Durc suggested.

"Yes. But Durc's skin and hair colour is that of Clan. Only old Sea Kin people have hair of your colour. But you are not old. This girl was surprised for a moment when I first saw Durc."

Durc was trying to recollect anything Brun might have said about the people of Jorg's clan being so unusually coloured. He was sure he would have remembered if Brun had mentioned such a thing. And a whole clan of deformed people? Mog-ur must be right – it was not a deformity but a mixing of spirits. Briefly it crossed his mind to wonder if Broud would have agreed to bring his clan if he had known of it.

But Jorg looks completely clan," he said, puzzling at the mystery.

A man walked to the fire and sat down by Kalli. "That's because Jorg is," he said, evidently having seen the conversation as he approached.

And for the second time that day, Durc was speechless. The sun had risen over the far horizon now and people were stirring and coming out of their caves, but Durc was stunned by the man sitting and accepting a cup of tea from Kalli with a smile – a smile! The man was an Other! Not a person of mixed spirits, but an Other!

His hair was gilded by the rising sun behind them to a shade of yellow like the grass of late summer. He was taller than Durc, with what seemed amazingly long legs. His beard was a slightly darker shade of blonde than the hair on his head, and his eyes were a strange light blue-grey colour. Durc had no way of gauging his age: he appeared to be a fit and healthy man, no longer young although certainly not old.

He gazed at Durc shrewdly. "This man's name is Tollander," he annunciated the word clearly; the rest was fluently signed. "I was born to a group of Others known as the Dentratii. I was on a long Journey with my family when we came across the Sea Kin, the clan that Kalli and her older sister, my mate, belong to."

Durc's head was spinning, but there was no way he was going to stop listening. He was hanging on to the words.

"Toh…Tl…?" He shook his head, trying to get the strange syllables to fit. He had the nagging feeling that he should know what these word-sounds meant, but it was just beyond his grasp.

The Other nodded understandingly. "Call me Toll," he said. "All of this Clan, including my mate Zeena, do. It's easier to say than Tollander of the Dentratii. And anyway," he amended, "I haven't been Dentratii for many years now, not since I met and mated and decided to stay with the Sea Kin." Now he looked at Durc frankly. "And I see I am not the only one to have mated with a Clan person. Who are you, young man, with your obviously mixed spirits?"

Durc was a little taken aback by the man's frankness, but he sensed no malice or condemnation in the question, only honest interest and curiosity.

"This man's name is Durc," he answered Toll. "My mother was an Other, adopted into Broud's clan when it was Brun's clan. We live to the east of here. It took us a full moon to make the journey for the Gathering."

Toll nodded. "Your mother is an Other, you say? I would be very interested to meet her."

"My mother walks the spirit world now," Durc answered. "She died when I was much younger. I was brought up by Uba, the Medicine Woman of our clan."

"Oh. I am sorry to hear that the Great Mother Trati called her. Oh, excuse me," Toll added, seeing Durc's lack of comprehension at the unfamiliar verbal words. "I mean, that she has gone to the spirit world. I meet with so few Others now, and nobody from the Dentratii ever come this way, it seems."

Kalli nudged him. "You were going to tell Durc why it is that Jorg looks like Clan," she reminded him.

"Oh yes, thank you, Little Sister," Toll said.

Durc looked down at his empty cup to hide his amazement. No man in his clan would ever call a woman that, he would have addressed her more formally as "Sibling". And Toll had said that Kalli was not related to him, but was sister of his mate! And who was this "rardi" that he spoke of? Truly there were many confusing new concepts at this Gathering of the Clans!

Toll was continuing, "Well, Jorg looks like Clan because he is. The Sea Kin travelled from further south, by the Great Waters there. My family were on a Journey to visit relatives in the east, and we met up with the Sea Kin on their travel looking for a new home. Their old home had become too crowded, and some of the younger ones had decided to travel north to find new coastlines.

'We travelled with them for a season. I had become a man and decided to stay and mate Zeena, Kalli's older sister when my family journeyed on. But then the Sea Kin found this coast and also Jorg's clan. Soon trade links and friendships had been established, and matings followed. The Sea Kin now live here with Jorg's clan. People call themselves Sea Kin if their mother is Sea Kin. They call themselves Clan if their mother is Clan. But the two have become one to all practical purposes. There have been a lot of children born here since the Sea Kin arrived, some who resemble Sea Kin, others who look like Clan, and it needs all of us adults to fish and keep their hungry little bellies full! My mate is a mother of four, three daughters and a son, with another on the way. Jorg is leader to us all; and our Mog-ur is one of the Sea Kin."

Many more people had arrived now, gathering about the fire and listening to the story, and Durc could see something he had missed the night before. In the gloom and tiredness of the previous evening he had missed the finer details, but now he could see that the people of Jorg's clan were very much a mixture of colours, sizes and shapes. Some were typically Clan, yet there was a significant portion of people who were as mixed as Kalli. Most surprising to his inexperienced eyes were the older people of the Sea Kin; many had darker-shaded skin than Kalli, but with a shock of curly hair and in the case of the men, beards, gone white as snow with age. It made for an interesting contrast.

The sun was now above the top of the ridge behind them and people were signing to each other, making tea, eating. The day was beginning to warm up and Durc took off the outer fur he'd wrapped around his shoulders and used it to pad the rock he was sitting upon.

Kalli lifted the lid off a woven basket sitting beside her, took out food and offered some to Durc. He accepted gratefully – he was hungry, but didn't want to leave this fascinating group for the time it would take to go and get breakfast with his Clan. He examined the round cake she gave him – it appeared to be crushed grains mixed with dried blueberries and some fat to bind it, probably cooked as he had seen Uba prepare similar, on hot stones. He bit into it. It was very good.

He gazed about him as he ate. A number of the Sea Kin and not a few of the Clan people they lived with were wearing amazing bodily decorations – Kalli saw his interest in hers and obligingly took one off and handed it to him to examine more closely. It was a string of little sea shells, threaded onto a leather thong which had been tied around her upper arm. It was colourful, the insides of the shells had purple, pink and silvery-green and blue mother-of-pearl sheens displayed prominently. Kalli had other sea shell strings, several on her ankles, one more on her other arm, and even a string fixed into her long hair at the side, which swayed with her black curls every time she moved her head.

"What are these … for?" Durc asked in bewilderment. He went to hand it back to Kalli; she took it from him, then, her eyes shining with fun, took his unresisting hand and fastened it to his arm, tying it around his wrist. He gazed at it, touching the smooth shells with the other hand, wondering at the pretty colours flashing sunlight splashes from the mother-of-pearl. It was intriguing: he would never have thought of putting many shells together like that, but having seen it, he wondered how he could get more.

Toll spoke up. "They are just to look at. Pleasing to the eye. If well-made and colourful they are also a great trading item.

'There is another sea to the east of here," he continued, gesturing with one hand in the right general direction. "The clans there live on the coastline of that sea. It is colder there, Ice Mountain has crept closer to the sea there than it has here. The people have no shells, living as they do so close to the ice and the snow. They are happy to trade with us for them. Many suffer from what they call 'Snow Blindness' in winter, where the eyes forget how to see in colour due to the white they live amongst. Those affected can only see in black and white and shades of grey. The coloured sea shells help their eyes to remember what colour is, until the summer comes again."

"What do you get for … trading?" Durc sounded the unfamiliar spoken word out loud. He had an inkling what Toll meant: trade must be like gifts given in kind. His clan had traditions of that as well. He wondered what he had that Kalli might like, since she had given him her arm band.

"We have gotten beautiful white furs in trade, from the Spirit Bears that the people who live in the east hunt," Toll mused. "And meat and fat from the Great Fish, called by the people 'Whale', that they hunt from water platforms that they call 'canoes'. Some say they are sea mammoth, but I've seen them and they are truly fish. Just huge ones!" *

(* Toll is speaking here of the Caspian Sea, the world's largest inland body of water. During the last Ice Age, it had a thriving population of fauna living within it, including porpoises, whales and the Caspian seal. This is known from both fossils and prehistoric rock art found in the area.)

'I visited with the Clan cousins who live east, on the sea there. They call themselves the Denisovs. My mother's mate was a man of the Ramudoi, river people who are great travellers and traders, and I think I must be of his spirit, since I resemble him in a number of ways. Like him, I have the urge to travel when I can." He paused for a second, remembering. "The people there…differ from the clans around this area. They are small, and very tough. They live right up next to the flank of Ice Mountain, where it extends into their sea from its northern end. They speak the same language as the Clan but with more…more mouth words." And here Toll indicated his lips with one finger to illustrate what he meant by the term.

"They say their memories show that they were once Clan, and they call Clan people, and the Sea Kin, "Sibling".

'In spring, once the ice breaks, the rivers run high. The Denisovs make canoes that resemble fish. They can travel fast in those and they are very skilled with them. They come up-river from their sea to trade with us here at ours. One year, I travelled back with them," and here he glanced at Kalli, "Do you remember, Little Sister?"

Kalli nodded. "When Jarna and Oniv mated," she said.

Toll continued, "Oniv, man of the Denisovs, wished to take as mate the first-born daughter of my mate when she became a woman. I travelled with them, I wanted to be sure in my heart that Jarna would be content there before I agreed to the mating.

'I stayed with them for two seasons, and lived amongst them, hunting with them. We journeyed for nearly two full moon's cycle upriver in canoes, it is such a long distance. We reached a place where the river let out into a great sea. On the far horizon to the north one could see Ice Mountain, crowding right up to the water, but the water where the people live beside was not frozen." He paused for a moment, remembering. "Although there were icebergs – even in summer it was still bitterly cold! Not much grew on the land. The Denisovs live there, they build caves made of blocks of snow and animal hides in the winter and and heat them with fat lamps. In the summer they travel to us to visit. They hunt on their sea, for fish, for whale and seal. There are more seals in that sea than there are even here! If it weren't for that sea, there would not be enough to eat. They shave and burn bone for heat and cooking. It is a strange way of life, but the Denisovs, although few, live well."

Durc was hanging on to every word. He had a yearning to see what this man had seen: exotic people and places. Some of the words Toll used were unfamiliar, but evoked a feeling of excitement and adventure.

Toll continued, "I went hunting with them, on that strange cold sea. I saw the Great Fish, spouting and leaping, and the Spirit of Ursus wearing his winter mantle of white fur to hunt seal on the pack ice. The Denisovs are a resilient and admirable people, but there are some things they need that they must trade for. They trade with the Clans living along the coast of their sea to the south, but they also trade with us, here in the west. We trade willow with them – it grows well here, and the Denisovs value the wood to make the skeletons of their boats and for their summer tents. They stretch hides over the wood and the result is a wonderful lightweight boat that can be carried over the ice when they need to. They also use bone, but that is heavier, willow is preferred. They also like the hides of chamois and bison. But those shell strings," and here Toll gestured at the one Durc wore, "are prized above all else."

When Durc had finished eating, Kalli offered to show him around the home of Jorg's clan. Durc guessed it was due to his obviously young age that Kalli did not treat him with the deference a woman would normally show to a hunter; her attitude towards him was more like the familiarity of a girl of the same cave, used to playing together as children and treating each other more casually. He found he preferred her friendly manner to one that was more formal; it made her an easy and interesting companion and he was enjoying talking to her.

"I was wondering about these caves," Durc said, gesturing to the embankments. There were many of them, all with cave openings, all roughly the same size and domed shape. "Our leader Broud said you were lucky to find so many liveable caves. But Brun, who was leader before him, said he remembered that Jorg's clan lived in tents under the overhang, close in to the cliff wall."

"So they did, when my people the Sea Kin came across them," Kalli answered. "I was not born then but Zeena told me about it. The Sea Kin were used to living in tents during the summer months, and travelling. But in winter we like to return to a home settlement. When we decided to stay here and felt how very cold the winter was, we decided to build caves in the way we were accustomed to doing further south."

"Build?" Durc questioned. "How … build a cave?"

Kalli led him to one of the embankments and squatted down on her heels. She scraped industriously at the base with her fingernails and dried dirt fell away, revealing stone underneath.

"We make a circle of stones," she explained, indicating the large block of stone revealed as Durc squatted beside her. "And saplings, with thinner branches woven through for the walls. When we lived further south we had deeper soil, and the saplings were placed directly into a hole in the dirt. But here the soil is shallower, so we use stones to brace the bottoms. The whole gets bound together at the top. This is covered all over with bundles of dried grass, tied to the saplings. Then mud is used to cover everything. It is waterproof and wonderfully warm in winter, with hearthfires burning inside. Each of these," she made a sweeping movement of her hands, indicating the embankements, "are the homes of individual families, and storage caves. For this Gathering we are letting the other clans have them and we are sleeping in our travelling tents under the overhang, as Jorg's clan did previously."

Durc touched the wall and felt the texture of the clay that had been used. Now that Kalli had explained it to him, it seemed so simple and he could imagine in his mind's eye how it had been done. But what prompted them to even think of it in the first place?

As if she had read his mind, Kalli said, "It gets so very cold in winter here! The wind whistles and there are ice bergs floating in the ocean! I'd hate to live in a tent then, even with the overhang as protection from the wind."

"Does it take long to build cave?" Durc asked.

"Not with everybody working together. Old people and youngsters, we can all join in, even if it's only spreading mud about on the walls! It usually takes us about …" she held up one hand, spreading her fingers wide before resuming signing, "this many sunups and sundowns to make one, including cutting down the saplings and gathering enough big stones. And we have to wait longer sometimes for the mud to dry, if it's been wet weather."

Durc gazed at her in amazement. "You can do numbers!" he said admiringly. "My friend Grev is our Mog-ur's acolyte and he has been learning numbers all last winter. He can count to this many," Durc held up the fingers of one hand. "Mog-ur calls that 'five'. I have been learning some numbers from Mog-ur as well, and talking to Grev about it."

"I know this many," Kalli said nonchalantly, and held up both hands with fingers outspread. She said aloud, "One." She touched her thumb with her other hand. "Two. Three. Four. Five. Um, six…"

Durc shook his head in awe after she had continued all the way up to ten, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. She began to start into the teens, but then faltered at thirteen. "I get mixed up after that," she admitted.

"My Clan uses different words for the numbers, all signed," Durc said. "Most hunters can manage to count up to three, like when we hunt a herd of animals. But any more just becomes 'many'. I've never met anybody, apart from Mog-ur, who can count all of those numbers."

Kalli looked pleased at the compliment. A pregnant woman emerged from one of the tents in the overhang a little way from them and called out, "Kalli!'

When Kalli turned the woman signed, "Don't wander too far, Little Sister – I shall need some help later grinding that grain."

"I remember, Zeena," Kalli signed back. She took Durc's hand and led him to her older sister.

"Zeena, this is Durc. He is a hunter of Broud's Clan. I am showing him around."

Zeena gave him a piercing glance, taking in his obvious youth, but answered courteously. "You are very welcome here, hunter. I hope that Kalli is being polite to you."

Durc nodded. "She has been most civil."

Zeena nodded, then as in afterthought added, "Kalli, have you shown Ursus yet?"

Kalli turned to Durc in eagerness. "Oh yes," she signed to him. "You must come see Ursus! We have had him since he was a cub! When we heard at the last Gathering that we would host the next, we spent a lot of time trying to find a young one. Oh, Zeena, do we have anything to give him?"

Zeena nodded. "I saved a bowl from last night's meal," she signed, going back to her tent. She returned and gave Kalli a bowl half-filled with meat. "It is seal meat, he will like that," she said.

Kalli took it, then led Durc further along the beach.

"Ursus has an enclosure built into the cliff wall, above the high tide level," she told him, shifting the bowl a little so it was partly supported on one hip and hand, leaving her able to sign in an abbreviated form with the other. "Be careful not to say his name when you see him, we don't want to remind him of who he really is until the Bear Ceremony."

Durc nodded; he had heard that advice often enough before from his own clan on the journey here. It would be a disaster if Ursus was reminded before the proper time, as no cage or enclosure would be able to hold him. Without Ursus, the Bear Ceremony would be invalidated, and with it, no reason for the Clan Gathering. It was therefore imperative that Ursus was never allowed to know who he really was until the Bear Ceremony.

What is that meat?" he asked.

"Seal. That's a sort of fish that comes onto land to have babies and bask in the sun. We can only catch them during that time, they are too fast for us to catch in the water. But Ursus is known to enjoy seal meat very much."

"I thought he only eats plants?"

Kalli shrugged. "He eats meat here. We couldn't find any young ones in our territory at all, so eventually we traded with some Denisovs on the eastern sea. They had found two young cubs out on some ice floes and were bringing them up. Nobody knows what happened to their mother – I think Great Ursus meant for the Denisovs to find him. They were starving when they were found. But ours has grown so big since then! Oh, and remember to call him 'Seal Slayer' – that's our name for him for now until the Bear Ceremony."

They rounded the overhang and Durc could see the high cliff that backed it. It was a rocky area, full of quite deep pools of water, rough and inhospitable-looking. Around one such pool was a solid enclosure, fully as large as one of the mud caves, made of tree trunks firmly lashed together and roofed over. Piles of boulders had been placed around the base to add strength to the cage. Of Ursus himself there was no sign.

Kalli darted forward to the cage and put the bowl hastily inside. Stepping well away from the enclosure she picked up a sturdy stick placed there for the purpose and began to beat it against a rock. "Seal Slayer!" she called, saying the word verbally. "Seal Slayer!"

With a sudden whoosh! of water that made Durc jump, a massive white apparition shot out of the pool onto the gravel. Dripping wet, it stood and, starting with its head, shook the water from its fur, spraying it everywhere. It then lay on a flattish boulder in the sun and rubbed first its head and then the rest of its body on the sun-warmed rock, rolling over and making low throaty growls as it dried its fur.

But then, thinking back to the massive brute of an animal, so graceful, so sleekly predatory-looking, he wondered if he really wanted to be awarded such a dangerous honour…

Ursus maritimus tyrannus, a late Ice Age subspecies of the polar bear, was a huge animal which habitually wandered farther south than its more northerly kin. It had the powerful body of a grizzly bear with the arctic adaptations of a polar bear and was larger than both those animals. Unlike the true Cave Bear Ursus spelaeus, it was not vegetarian, but an Apex Predator, capable of hunting both on land and sea. It was amongst the largest mammalian land carnivores in history, quite capable of taking down small woolly mammoths.

Seal Slayer got to all fours with a chuff of effort and gazed at the two humans keeping their wary distance. It sneezed dismissively, then padded gracefully across the sand and rock of its enclosure to the bowl of meat, burying its face in it and beginning to slurp up the contents with evident enjoyment.

Kalli beckoned Durc to come closer. Keeping a wary eye on the huge animal, he went to stand by her side. They were both still well away from the enclosure; but Durc felt very vulnerable as he stared in amazement at the massive predator.

"Don't go any closer than this," Kalli warned. "He's vicious."

"Isn't um … Seal Slayer… supposed to be brown?" Durc asked. While the creature was undoubtedly a bear, it didn't look like anything in any of his memories of Ursus. Admittedly the only time he had seen any portion of the real Ursus was the cloak that Mog-ur wore as his robe of office, and that was brown and shaggy, very unlike the silvery white fur of the creature in front of him.

Kalli shook her head, turning her back to the bear so it couldn't see what she signed to Durc.

"This is his winter aspect," she explained. "He wears this fur when he is on the eastern sea so that he may hunt seals amongst the ice without them seeing him. There is little vegetation there, Ice Mountain is too close to that coastline, so Seal Slayer must survive by hunting, as we in the clans do. He enjoys seal meat very much, but he will eat other fish that we have caught for him as well." She paused. "Toll says that when the …you know, the brown one… sleeps away the winter in the south, he dreams of himself on the eastern sea, hunting seals in his sleek white fur."

The polar bear had finished the seal meat offering now, and was nosing at the bar, hoping for more from the two humans. It made soft chuffing noises. Then, seeing that more food was not forthcoming, it turned and padded to a trough on top of the rocks just outside the enclosure. Sticking his head through a gap in the saplings he began to lap up the fresh water left there for him. Then he turned back to the pool, slipping into the water with barely a ripple and submerging completely to escape the day's increasing heat.

Durc found that he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly. "I did not know he was going to be so big," he said in awe.

"I would not like to be one of the three Hunters chosen for the Bear Ceremony," Kalli answered. "Although of course it is a great honour for any young man," she added quickly, glancing at him.

As they walked slowly back to the caves, both were silent with their thoughts.

I could be chosen, Durc was thinking. If I win enough of the competitions, I could be one of the chosen three.

The idea made his heart race, thinking of the glory that could be accorded him. It was considered a massive honour for any of the clans to have a champion competing in the Bear Ceremony.

Wouldn't Uba and Vorn be proud of me, he thought. Grev would be so envious, as an acolyte he doesn't get to compete at all. And Kalli … I wonder, would Kalli watch me, with her dark eyes shining?

But then, thinking back to the massive brute of an animal, so graceful, so sleekly predatory-looking, he wondered if he really wanted to be awarded such a dangerous honour…

6

It was mid-afternoon by the time he got back to the cave his clan was sharing.

He had spent an enjoyable few hours getting to know Kalli's family and finding out more about this fascinating clan with its strange and exotic culture, so different from his own. Zeena had given them lunch, and Durc found that he liked the taste of seal meat very much. He had left when it became clear that Zeena needed Kalli to help her prepare some grain.

He had delayed going back straight away, instead wandering down to the beach for a while to watch the fishing rafts bobbing about on the water, men flinging out and hauling in nets and yes, women diving gracefully from rafts and surfacing a little later with nets bulging with lobsters, crabs, and mussels. The sunlight glinted off wet hair in various shades of black, brown, and red.

The people he met on the beach were friendly, they greeted him courteously and he responded in kind. One of the big activities seemed to be mending fishing nets, and here again this clan differed from his own in that men and women sat side by side on mats on the gravel beach, busily mending and knotting sections of rope. In his own clan, net-mending, like meat preservation, would have been a specialist job solely the province of women.

Children were everywhere, some with the tell-tale features of Sea Kin, others Clan, still others a mixture, curly hair, straight hair, and skin of every shade of brown imaginable, from winter-pallid, through warm tans and dark browns, all of them playing and splashing about in the water, swimming like little fish.

He even let himself be enticed in up to his waist by a couple of boys he got into friendly conversation with, around his own age but not yet men. But he had never learned to swim and was wary of going deeper than he could comfortably stand. He dried off in the warm sunshine as he walked back towards his clan's alloted cave, wandering where everybody from his clan were, assuming they were all out getting to know people as he was.

But as he slipped back inside the entrance to the cave, he saw at once that something was very wrong – all of the men of his clan were sitting clustered around a central hearth, arguing about something with emphatic gestures and angry expressions. The women of the clan were gathered around a few of the hearths, trying hard not to look, not to eavesdrop on what it was the men were discussing with such passion. They looked very uncomfortable.

Grev glanced up as Durc entered, and slipped away from his place beside Mog-ur. He hurried over to him.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his whole demeanour showing worry. "Broud has called a meeting of every man; he is furious!"

Durc felt confusion. "What, because I wasn't here?"

Grev waved that away. He pulled Durc to the nearest unoccupied hearth so he could fill him in on the details in privacy. "No, no. He doesn't care where you went. But he wants us all to leave. Now, the whole clan. Straight away. Mog-ur is trying to calm him down."

Durc felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. His very pleasant day and growing friendship with Kalli and the people he'd met on the beach suddenly felt threatened, and he thought he had a good idea why Broud wasn't happy, given how the man felt about deformities.

"He says," Grev continued guardedly, "that this clan is a sham. He says they are all deformed, not really Clan at all. He says they are full of evil spirits who are trying to tempt us from the old traditional ways and that even their Ursus is not the true form, but a monstrous delusion, an evil fish spirit pretending to be a bear. Broud even stormed into the cave where the Mog-urs and acolytes were discussing aspects of the Bear Ceremony, can you believe that? He wouldn't speak to their Mog-ur at all and was very rude to Jorg, who can't understand what all the fuss is about. Come on," Grev beckoned. "Slip in there beside Brac. But I think you had better not draw Broud's attention, he is angrier than I've ever seen before."

Durc followed his friend back to the group of men and as advised kept his head down meekly until he was seated. Only when he was cross-legged next to Brac on the floor did he dare to raise his head enough to see what was being discussed.

"But Broud," Mog-ur was saying soothingly, "we can't leave now, after we accepted Jorg's hospitality of last night. It would be a grave breach of Custom."

"My acceptance was given without knowing the full circumstances of the offer," Broud snapped back in angry gestures. "If I'd known what Jorg's clan was like we would never have come in the first place." Broud looked at Brun angrily. "I hold you partly responsible, Brun," he added. "You told us all tales of this clan without ever once mentioning that they were all deformed, or that they harboured an Other – an Other! – here in their midst."

Brun glared at the son of his mate angrily. "When I was here before, it was just Clan, no Others or deformities. But as Mog-ur said, what does it matter? They may look a little different, but their deformities do not stop them from being very efficient hunters and providers. They're observing the customs. I have spoken to some of them, they are all polite and friendly."

"I don't care how polite or friendly they are!" Broud responded. "They are unnatural in every way possible!" He gestured at the walls of the cave surrounding them. "Even their living space is an atrocity, something made out of dirt rather than found! What do they know of the Customs?"

"Mog-ur would speak," Mog-ur signed and after receiving Broud's nod of permission, said firmly, "in the matter of Customs, I can confidently advise. I have spoken not only to the Mog-ur of Jorg's clan but to all those clans gathered here. Most of the other clans living hereabouts know of Jorg's clan and were here when the Sea Kin arrived. Many of them have taken mates from the ranks of the Sea Kin. The clans who have done so observed Custom and mated properly and the matings seem to be looked upon favourably by the spirits; there are now many more children born to each family, and they tend to be healthier besides, with more babies living to adulthood.

'It is true that they look a little different to us; but at any rate, Custom only decrees that deformed children be exposed at birth if their deformity be so great that they cannot hunt or work, or if they will be a burden to their clan. Custom does not state that a deformed child must be exposed if the deformity is something minor, like an extra toe or a head that is differently shaped, not if they are strong and can still contribute to the good of the clan. All of these people seem exceptionally healthy; all of the Mog-urs I spoke to today reported robust good health amongst the majority of their population. The clans here in the west have prospered since the arrival of the Sea Kin. And clans joining other clans is hardly new, whether it be a large one splitting into two or several ones with dwindling populations joining together."

"Droog would speak," Droog signed, as Mog-ur indicated that he was finished.

Broud looked at him suspiciously – the master flint knapper too often backed up the son of his former mate in arguments. "Droog may speak," he signed.

"Like Brun and like Mog-ur, I also have been speaking to some of the hunters of this clan. They appear very different to our way of thinking, I agree. But is it really so different? We hunt on the land, because we have an abundance of land animals. But we also hunt the sturgeon in the sea when they migrate every year. The hunters here in the west hunt on the sea; but when they get the chance they also hunt the land animals, like the mammoth," here Droog gave a nod of acknowledgement to Brun, "it is just that the four-footed animals in this area are fewer in number.

'I did not just talk to the hunters of Jorg's Sea Kin clan," Droog continued, "but also to those of other clans living hereabouts. They say that the Sea Kin did indeed introduce change, particularly in the looks of the children born. But it was a slow change, and everybody had a chance, not only to get used to it, but to see the changes as having merit. For instance, Jorg's clan was dwindling when the Sea Kin arrived. There were fewer and fewer children being born. A number of those that were born were…obviously infected by evil spirits. Their deformities were many times greater than the minor differences we see now. I spoke to Yend, the tool maker of Jorg's clan. He told me that his first mate died giving birth to a child with… it's insides outside of the body, no mouth and no eyes." Droog looked uncomfortable. "Fortunately it was also born dead. This was just before the Sea Kin arrived.

'When they did arrive, the season after, Yend took another mate, a woman of the Sea Kin. He said at first he was unsure, but he needed a mate and there were no unmated women left in Jorg's clan. But the woman from the Sea Kin clan was properly courteous and observed the customs. In his opinion the mate he now has has been an exemplary Clan woman who has since borne two sons and a daughter to his hearth. And all are strong and healthy, despite having the head shape and skin colour so prevalent of the Sea Kin. Yend said that he is glad of the Sea Kin's timely arrival, not only so that he may have a mate and children at his hearth to delight his heart, but also to see his clan swell in size and prosper. Droog has finished."

"The issue is not whether or not there are fewer children or healthier ones with deformities," Broud said. "It is whether or not we stay or we go. The final decision is mine as leader, and I…"

"Durc would speak, Broud!" Durc felt uncomfortable as all eyes turned to him.

Broud glowered at him, as if only just remembering that he was here at all. "Well, we all know what you will say," he said dismissively. "You with your deformities, you must feel very comfortable here with all of these freaks." He held Durc's gaze for a beat, but when the young man did not back down he sighed long-sufferingly. "Very well, let us have your justifications for why we should stay."

"Surely we must not act rashly," Durc began hesitantly. "Norg's clan is not yet here. They may or may not feel the same way, but at the moment if our clan leaves after accepting the hospitality of Jorg's clan, we will be seen as acting outside of Custom. We will be considered in the wrong. But once Norg's clan arrives, as the most eastern of the clans at this Gathering, and we have informed them of the situation, they may decide that they also will leave. Then our clan will not be alone in dishonouring Custom. It will be a question of differing values. I would advise that we at least wait until they have arrived. I am finished."

Broud snorted derisively. "Oh yes, Norg's clan. With your mate-to-be travelling with them. No wonder you wish to wait for them."

Durc flushed and looked down, feeling guilty. For Ura had not even entered his mind when he spoke up, in fact he had not thought of the young woman chosen as his mate once all day. It made him feel disloyal, to both his mother and to Ura, but he could not help it.

Dismissing Durc's argument, Broud said, "I now…"

"Brac would speak, Broud."

Broud stared at the eldest son of his mate doubtfully. As the heir-apparent Broud was disinclined to belittle him as he did Durc. He nodded. "Brac may speak."

"I feel that Durc has raised a very important point," Brac said calmly. "But not only because of how it will appear if we abandon all courtesy and custom by leaving this place precipitately. I am thinking more of our status as First Clan. We have been that way for many years, thanks to the good management of leaders past and present," and he glanced at Brun and nodded to Broud, including both men in the statement. "For many of those years whilst we were First, Norg's clan was acknowledged as being an honourable second. But if we leave now, who stands to benefit the most? Not us, certainly. No, Norg and his clan will be most happy to see us withdraw from the competitions, we will not get to compete if we leave in a sullen huff like small children chastised."

Here Brac leaned forward eagerly. "Broud, you competed in the Bear Ceremony at the last Gathering, when Brun was leader of this clan. I have been dreaming of doing both you and Brun proud by winning enough of the competition to compete in the Bear Ceremony myself! I have seen their captive Ursus, and he made my blood run cold with fear and admiration – I believe that he is no mere fish! I saw his teeth, his great claws, and the beautiful silver fur he wears in his eastern aspect!" Brac met Broud's eyes with his own glittering with excitement. "Imagine that wonderful hide going home with the winning First Clan, to be mounted proudly on the wall for all who visit to see and admire – what an honour, what a wonderful tribute to your wise leadership! Brac has finished."

Durc listened in silent admiration: Brac had not only neatly backed him up in his argument, but had also offered a very substantial lure to Broud, who was well known to be susceptible to the kind of glory that Brac was talking about.

Broud was nodding slowly, thoughtfully. Every hunter could see that he was being swayed in his course.

"Ye-es," he admitted at last. "It is true, I was one of the three hunters who earned our places in the last Gathering's Bear Ceremony. And it is true that Norg and his clan would probably rejoice if we left the way clear for an easier victory for them."

"Grev would speak, Broud."

Broud turned to the second son of his mate. "Grev may speak."

"I feel there is still the question of Great Ursus himself," the acolyte stated solemnly. "Mog-ur has not mentioned it yet, but I feel it should be considered. We all know that Great Ursus will catch fish in the rivers sometimes, when the salmon are migrating, he is not exclusively vegetarian. Why then should he not catch it in the sea, if he so wishes, or don a coat of a different colour to catch seals? And have we not all heard the humorous tale of legend about the man who was out hunting when a blizzard blew up unexpectedly and he was wandering about in the night, freezing and lost? How he stumbled upon an abandoned beaver's den, and sheltered in there overnight, only to awake in the morning to find that Great Ursus was also there, hibernating beside him? I know we have all been amused and awed by that story, but there is a grain of truth there, Ursus does not exclusively hibernate inside caves. Perhaps, as Jorg's Clan believes, some travel north-east to hunt seals. And some will take shelter in a built structure, although in the case of the story it was a beaver's den rather than a mud cave! I have finished."

The waiting hunters held their collective breath as they watched their leader consider these arguments, and Durc was surprised and gratified to realize that, like him, very few of the other hunters really wanted to leave this fascinating place.

Finally Broud nodded decisively. "I have listened to all the arguments and I feel that those made by the sons of my mate carry merit. I will now ask every hunter here their opinion, so that all may see that my final decision is fair and even-handed. The question is, do we stay and wait for Norg's clan to arrive, or do we leave immediately?"

Each man clenched a fist and held it in front of their chests.

Vorn," Broud began with his second-in-command, "do you think we should stay and wait?"

Vorn hesitated. Like the others, he was not so resistant to the idea of deformities, especially not with the adopted son of his mate living at his hearth. In his own way he loved the young man and was proud of his achievements. His moved his fist up and down.

"Vorn says yes, we wait," Brun said. "Mog-ur?"

Mog-ur did not hesitate. His fist moved up and down with an emphasis that left no doubt.

"Mog-ur advises to wait," Broud said. "Droog?"

Once more and not surprisingly, the verdict was to wait.

Around the circle of hunters the question was put. One after another, more and more confidently, the preference was to wait until Norg's clan arrived. Only Borg and Crug were the standouts: both men signalled their preference to leave by moving their fists across and back in a definite no.

"I see," Broud said after the vote. "The decision can only be mine, of course. And I am still very disturbed by the… aberrations shown by these western clans. But I like not the idea of Norg's clan supplanting our rightful place as First Clan. We stay until Norg arrives. If they do not agree to leave with us, then we stay for the whole of the Bear Ceremony."

As the meeting broke up, Durc breathed out a sigh of relief. He felt vindicated and happy that they would be staying. He saw with surprise that it was now gloomy inside as the day waned, hearth fires were being lit. As he returned to the hearth he shared with Vorn, Uba and Inga, he hoped fervently that Norg was not as biased against deformities as Broud. He had no wish to leave before the Bear Ceremony.

The three men sat together companionably on a rock above the sea and cooled their feet in the foaming swell. It was a warm day and Toll had been showing Durc and Grev how to catch fish from the shore the Sea Kin way, with a cast net from the sandy patch of beach at this sheltered little bay. It took more skill than it at first appeared to cast the net wide enough to catch anything: so far Durc and Grev had caught nothing more significant than seaweed.

The sun shone directly above them, and the few rafts they could see shimmered in the hot moving air. Now and then women would dive into the swell trailing nets, but they were pragmatic about their work; Durc felt amused when he saw Grev's disappointment at the lack of eroticism he had imagined when listening to Grod and Brun's stories!

Toll had brought some of the cakes of ground grain Zeena and Kalli had been milling the day before. He took them from the rawhide carrier he wore slung over one shoulder and passed them out to eat while Grev filled them in on what had occurred during the Mog-ur's meeting yesterday evening, held after Broud had decided that his clan would stay.

Toll had been included in the two young men's discussion; he was open and friendly, easy to like, and as an Other mated to a Sea Kin woman, he seemed like somebody who could give good advice as an interested third party.

"Mog-ur had to do a lot of work to ease the bad first impression of our clan," Grev was saying now. "I am… disappointed in the man of my hearth," he admitted, looking down. "He is headstrong and likes his own way, but I never thought he would embarrass us all like that, bursting into the Mog-ur's discussion and demanding Goov and I leave at once."

"What exactly is it that he has a problem with?" Toll asked.

"He doesn't like Others," Durc stated when it became obvious that Grev was struggling to answer – Broud was, after all, the man of Grev's hearth and leader of the Clan. It distressed Durc to see his oldest and best friend so upset and made him even angrier towards Broud for putting Grev in that position.

"He hated my mother, because she was an Other, and he hates me because I have some of the features of an Other," Durc continued. "I think he is angry with Jorg's Clan for having anything to do with the Sea Kin, with their mix of Other and Clan features. But I have to admit, since meeting you Toll, that while we have differences, we are also very similar. We have no problems talking to you. Isn't that right, Grev?"

Grev nodded his agreement. "I also feel that way towards you, Toll. If all Others are as you, I wonder why we have not met in friendship before this, rather than avoiding each other."

Toll kicked one leg idly, sending up spray. "I was unsure, when I met with the Sea Kin. But on a journey one expects to meet strange and exotic people, with different customs. And once I learned their language of talking with the hands I realized how similar we really were. Although I had an incentive to learn – I had met Zeena and fell totally in love with her, and I couldn't say any of her words then, and she none of mine, beyond our names!" He gave that strange, disconcerting grimace which he called a 'smile' again, as he remembered. He saw the puzzlement on his young friend's faces at his spoken Other word 'love' and explained.

"It means a deep and abiding affection. I wanted her as my mate." His face grew serious as he continued, "I will tell you, if the Sea Kin had not met Jorg's clan when they did, Jorg's clan would have faded away by now. Their numbers were dwindling, as I said yesterday. The Sea Kin have been like a breath of fresh air, blowing away the dust and revitalizing this clan. I must admit, if Jorg's clan had been more numerous, perhaps they would have tolerated the Sea Kin, but not been so quick to include them into all areas of Clan life." He paused for a moment, mulling it over in his mind. "Or maybe, living on the coast as they do, Jorg's clan and the Sea Kin had enough in common to make it work. It would have been very different, I feel, if the Sea Kin spoke in the way I used to, with sounds alone. Because they use the Clan language of gestures, as well as words, it was easier for Jorg and his people to accept their presence. And once Jorg's clan accepted, it made it easier for the other clans living nearby to do so as well."

Grev nodded. "The Mog-ur of Jorg's clan said much the same thing at the meeting we had last night. But that's part of Broud's problem – he feels that the old traditional ways are threatened. I have heard him say before this that the Others are simply a bad dream, who will disappear if ignored long enough."

Toll sat still for a moment, staring out to sea. "Do you think," he began hesitantly, "if Broud came to a ceremony of all the clans and we all share memories, he might be persuaded differently? If he can see that the Sea Kin may look a little different but essentially have the same memories and follow the same traditions? I've participated in ceremonies and found I can go back to the beginnings of all people. But then my people, who the Clan call 'Others', takes a turn away from the Clan, they diverge and I can't follow along with the Clan memories anymore. I always wake up and feel a little silly watching all the other hunters still deep in trance. But I know from conversations I've had with Sea Kin hunters that they can access Clan memories just as easily as the people of Jorg's clan."

Durc looked at him with interest, distracted from the main problem for a moment. "I can follow the memories," he said. "But like you, I do sense a … a sort of drawing away? I needed Mog-ur's help the first time I did it, but I can follow Clan memories now easily enough."

Grev was nodding slowly, thinking about what Toll had said. "You know," he said now, "that idea might work. Broud has repeatedly stated that it's because of his doubts that the Sea Kin follow the ancient Custom that he wanted us to leave. That's a very good idea, Toll! I will suggest it to Mog-ur."

They all heard a hail from behind them. They turned and saw the son of Toll's mate approaching.

"Tollan!" the young boy said again, then continued in signs. "Mother sent me to get you. Norg's clan have been spotted – they're finally here!"

7

The young woman stared about her as they approached the fire pit under the overhang. A number of welcoming people had come out to meet them on the slope, the leader called Jorg and a group of others. Jorg had offered the hospitality of his clan to Norg and been accepted; Jorg looked like a normal person. But so many of the others here didn't!

Some were pale-skinned but many had darker skins, shading from a summer tan to a deep brown. Their hair as well was in many shades, some with the normal brown or red colours common in her Clan, but many with dark brown or even black hair. And curly! And their heads were subtly different, too. It gave a different cast to their facial features, with chins and more prominent-looking eyes, not so overshadowed by heavy brow ridges. And their noses seemed tiny, almost petite in comparison to the people of her clan.

In all of her life she had never imagined so many variations on the theme of "people". She had only ever seen two who resembled them before this. One was her good friend Rashi, who was originally from the Sea Kin clan, and had mated into Norg's clan the season before last.

And the other was herself, as she had seen her own reflection in a still pool of water.

There were so many that it made her head spin. She stayed close behind her mother. As a yet-unmated young woman, she really should not have been staring about so obviously, it was very impolite. But it was impossible not to, these people fascinated her.

Also, she was looking around wondering if she would be able to spot her promised mate amongst this multitude.

Her mother Oda had told her all about him, even though she had only seen him when he was a baby. She said that he looked a little like her, but longer in the limbs. His name was Durc, like in the legend. His totem protector was the Grey Wolf, but his mother, Aygha, an Other, was under the protection of the great Cave Lion!

Ura often thought to herself that Durc was lucky to have such strong spirits favouring him – her mother had often bemoaned the fact that Durc's mother was unmated, so he would be unlucky. But Ura thought that Durc was well-protected since he had both the Grey Wolf and the Cave Lion in his spiritual lineage. How could he be unlucky, with such strong protectors?

Ura's own totem was the raven, a plucky and smart bird. But it should be no match for a Grey Wolf; she hoped to be able to have a baby in the future after mating with him.

"Mother," Ura said now with guarded signals, "these people – so many look like Rashi!"

Oda glanced at Rashi who was walking ahead of them, just behind the Medicine Woman and the Leader's mate. Rashi had always been an enigma to Oda, a young woman from a frankly weird clan that had settled on the coast not far from them a few seasons ago.

There had been trading and friendly relations between the two clans, but Oda was not comfortable when the son of Norg's mate, Berg, had spent a season hunting with them and returned mated to Rashi! Berg was destined to become leader in his turn after Norg. And the young woman he had mated was acceptable to Norg, she was a hard worker and dutiful to her new mate. Norg could hardly fault her for anything other than her odd looks, but in every other way she was an acceptable young clan woman. She was already pregnant with her first child.

And she was open and friendly to all the women, but had taken an especial interest in Oda's daughter Ura, who looked so like Rashi. Not in skin tone, of course, Ura was light-skinned and had sandy brown hair and like the others in her clan, she lacked a chin. But in the features, the shape of the head, the cast of the face, Ura and Rashi were similar. Oda was glad for Ura's sake; before the arrival of Rashi, Ura had been friendless. The other women were polite, but had kept her at a distance all of her life, as though they feared her deformities would be contagious. With the arrival of Rashi, who had high status as the mate of Berg, the future leader, the others had now warmed to Ura as well.

And now here were a number of clans, and so many of their people were deformed! Not that it seemed to impede them in any way, Oda had to admit to herself. They all looked in robust good health, and they were so numerous and vigorous that she felt as overwhelmed as her daughter. They all intermingled in a curious but welcoming crowd, from wide-eyed children of various shades and shapes, to people who had to be old if their silver hair and wrinkled faces were anything to judge by, but all of whom were straight limbed and sprightly-looking.

Oda glanced at her daughter, staying close by her side. Oda had worked hard to instil in her daughter the importance of being dutiful and respectful. But it was no wonder that the young woman was staring now; all of Norg's clan were.

Ura's eyes were going from one to the other of the gathered clan people, searching for either a tall blonde Other woman or a young man who might be the son, Durc. She had never been able to visualize him in her mind, not really. She had a sort of image of him as a young Clan man, but with a head shape more like hers. But with so many people all with differing features it was bewildering.

She had not seen Others before but there was no doubting that the man she spotted now walking up from the beach had to be an Other! He was approaching the group clustered about the firepit. He was tall and blonde and even though he looked ungainly with such long legs he moved gracefully. He was accompanied by a handsome young hunter with a reddish beard and hair who looked refreshingly normal, a little boy of mixed spirits as deeply coloured as Rashi, and a young man? Boy? He had no beard, but with his blonde hair and tall, graceful body, he resembled the blonde man, and Ura assumed he was the son of the mate of the Other.

The man must be mated to a Clan woman, she thought. She and Rashi had discussed the subject of Others and Clan many times, and both young women had begun to suspect that the assumption of "deformities" was more likely to be a result of mixed spirits between Others and Clan…

The people of Norg's clan were moving about now, breaking away from their strict hierarchical grouping to greet others they knew from past Clan Gatherings, or relatives or friends who had moved to western clans. Ura's mother was fussing now with her two other children, both little boys who were running about and getting in the way of milling people. Rashi saw Ura's confusion and took pity on her young friend, walking over to her.

"Ura, you look a little overwhelmed. Come on with me, I'll introduce you to people!" she offered.

Ura glanced at her mother and the two little boys. Oda was busy and Ura had no wish to be roped in helping her with her two siblings who were, as far as Ura was concerned in the privacy of her own head, a pair of naughty nuisances. She joined her friend; Rashi was not at all overwhelmed, she was calling greetings to others and they were responding with obvious delight. These people were Rashi's Sea Kin, the clan she had been a part of.

But then Rashi gasped as her eyes lit on the tall Other that Ura had spotted earlier.

She raced towards him, then remembered herself and her dignity as a mated Clanswoman and dropped gracefully to the ground at his feet.

Toll had that odd grimace to his face again, his mouth open and his teeth showing, that indicated he was delighted about something. He tapped Rashi on the shoulder and she jumped up and hugged him.

"Rashi! Oh Great Mother, you all made it to the end of the sea then?" Toll exclaimed as they broke apart.

Rashi shook her head, her eyes dancing. "No, Tollan, we kept travelling on and on, and the sea continued on and on! I don't think there is any end to it. But we got tired of travelling and settled far to the east and came across Norg's clan." She tossed her beautiful black curls, looking proud. "I am mated to Berg now, eldest son of Norg's mate," she said. "Oh Toll! It fills my heart with such gladness to see you again!"

Toll could not stop grinning. "Zeena will be thrilled to see you!" He turned to Grev and Durc, who were standing to one side of him and told them, "This young woman is an old friend: she left with a group of the Sea Kin who decided to travel further when we settled here. They wanted to see if they could take their canoes all the way to the end of the sea. Rashi of the Sea Kin, now of Norg's clan, these young men are Grev and Durc."

The young woman standing shyly a step behind Rashi drew in a quick breath of surprise, putting her hands over her mouth. Her eyes roved over both young men, staring at them as if she were searching for something.

Appearing to make up her mind, she dropped to her knees in front of Grev, and, when he had bemusedly tapped her shoulder, she looked up at him with hopeful eyes. "You…are you Durc? Oh, please forgive this woman's presumption, but I am Ura!" she said.

Grev shook his head. "No, I am Grev of Broud's clan, Acolyte of Mog-ur." Suddenly seeing the humour in the situation, he turned to his friend with dancing eyes. "This hunter beside me is Durc! Is he who you are searching for?"

Ura's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement as she looked at Durc. "Oh, but… are you not the son of this man's hearth?" she enquired, indicating Toll. "This woman is looking for the Durc who is my promised mate. He is from Brun's clan. Maybe they have not yet arrived?"

Durc stepped forward. "I am Durc. I think I must be the one you are looking for. My mother promised me as a mate to Ura of Norg's clan at the last Clan Gathering, when I was a baby. But Broud is now our leader, he took over from Brun." He glanced at Toll. "Toll and I look a little alike," he conceded. "But that is coincidence."

Both young people looked at each other, taking each other's measure.

Ura was certainly comely, thought Durc, particularly now that his eyes and mind had become used to seeing the beauty inherent in both types of people, not as deformity but as a mixture of types. She had soft hair and luminous eyes and was trying so hard to be dutiful and respectful, even as he felt a slight pang at the disappointment evident when she had realized that Grev was not who she was looking for.

Ura saw a tall young man who still had the softness in his face of a youth. His hair was blonde and he looked thin to her eyes accustomed to the stockiness of Clan men. But he clearly had a Hunter's tattoo of his totem, marking him as an adult.

Oda had settled her two youngest sons by now and came looking for Ura. She approached and gave polite formal greeting to the young red-bearded Clan man and his two strange companions, the Other and the young man standing beside him who resembled him.

Ura turned to her excitedly. "Mother, this is Durc!" she signed. "And his friend Grev. Broud is now leader of the clan that was Brun's before him. The clan you told me of!"

Oda stared. She had completely mistaken the relationships here – the baby Durc of her memory had now become the tall youth standing in front of her. Then who was this Other man? Had his mother found a mate amongst her own people, then? Were they living here in this clan?

Rashi saw her confusion and indicated Toll. "This is Toll, mated to my good friend Zeena of the Sea Kin. He belongs to this clan."

Oda looked down at the ground respectfully before managing to sign, "I am honoured to meet you, hunter. To all of you hunters." Then she looked at the two younger men. "Is your mother here, hunter Durc?" she inquired politely. "I would pay my respects to her."

"My mother now walks the Spirit World," Durc signed.

Oda felt a pang. "Then you are an orphan?" I knew it, she thought. Any child born of an unmated mother is unlucky. She had lain awake nights worrying that they would meet Durc at the next Clan Gathering and find out that he was an imbecile or had never learned to walk, a constant drain on his clan. Yet here he was, tall and straight and healthy-looking, even if with the odd look of Other and Clan people, similar to the look that Rashi had.

And he had managed to become a hunter, despite his deformity, she thought, glancing at his hunting tattoo. So he will still be able to provide for Ura. And any mate for a young woman is better than none at all…

Durc shook his head. "No, I was adopted by Uba, the Medicine Woman of Broud's clan. She is mated to Vorn, second-in-command to the leader. I still live at Vorn's hearth, while I am unmated."

Oda sized him up again; this changed things for the better in her eyes. Durc seemed to have overcome any bad luck if he had a family of such high status willing to adopt him.

"This woman feels sorrow at the loss of Durc's mother," Oda told the young man. "She was kind to me when I felt friendless at the last clan Gathering. And I believe I met Uba, as well, who was a girl at the time. Is she attending this Gathering?"

At Durc's nod, she said, "This woman would ask the Hunter to please remember me to her when next you see her." She glanced around to where her daughter was standing and then said, "And you would be very welcome to come to share a meal with us at my mate's hearth tonight."

Durc was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable; this was not how he had imagined things would go, events seemed to be moving too fast for him. He glanced at Grev for help and saw to his annoyance that Grev was finding his discomfiture amusing!

Ura saw the glance and spoke up. "Would the Acolyte Grev like to join his friend at our meal?" she asked politely.

Grev looked startled at the sudden invitation, but rose to the occasion and nodded. "I would be most happy to join the meal," he said formally. "I thank you for your kind invitation. I will inform my mother and let her know I will not be having dinner at Broud's hearth tonight."

"Acolyte Grev is the son of the mate of the leader?" Ura asked, eyes widening.

Grev nodded gravely. "I am not the eldest son," he answered, "that honour goes to my brother Brac. And that is also why I can be Acolyte to Mog-ur. I am the second son of my mother."

Oda stared at him. What a pity, she thought to herself, that this young man is not Durc! He is of higher status and will be Mog-ur himself in time, a position equal to that of the leader! His mate will be one of the highest-ranked women in the clan. And he is unmated still, if he lives at the hearth of his mother's mate…but probably such a well-favoured young man already has a mate in mind.

"Come, Ura," Oda said. "I shall need some help with so many attending the evening meal." She glanced at the strange group. "I am going now," she said, in the usual leave-taking of the Clan.

"Yes mother," Ura answered obediently. But as she left she took an unobtrusive sidelong glance at both Durc and Grev.

Durc seems …polite and respectful, she thought to herself. But Grev! With his warm eyes and good humour, his strong body and red beard - oh, how I wish he was Durc!

The afternoon was spent pleasantly on the beach. Kalli had seen that Toll, Zeena and Rashi wanted to catch up and tactfully took her nieces and nephew out of the way so the adults could reminisce in peace.

Grev and Durc took one of the little girls each, hoisted them onto their shoulders and had a running race along the sand, chasing about and splashing through the wavelets at the water's edge, much to the children's delight.

Not to be outdone, Kalli and her nephew joined hands and ran together and it was not surprising that they outpaced the two young men with their burdens.

Finally they all collapsed onto the sand to catch their breath.

"Again, again!" the children urged, but Grev shook his head ruefully, panting.

I'm done," he protested playfully.

The three children, still full of energy, ran off to play in the sand and splash about in the shallows.

"Me too," Durc agreed. "Those children have been eating too much seal meat! They're heavy."

Kalli watched them playing fondly.

"I love them as if they were my own siblings," she said. "Toll and Zeena have an older daughter, she mated one of the hunters living along the eastern sea, he's a member of the Denisov people. Her mate Oniv is tiny, smaller than Jarna! But they developed a real affection for each other when he came west down the river to trade, and she lives in the east with his people of the eastern sea now."

"How is it that you live with Toll and Zeena?" Durc asked her. He had been thinking about that for some time and this seemed a good opening to introduce the subject.

"I was the youngest child of my mother," Kalli answered him. "Both she and her mate walk the spirit world now. They were killed in a mud-slip when I was…" she frowned in concentration and held up one hand with three fingers extended, "this many years. I don't remember anything about it, but we were hunting on the land one year for the giant bird, the Pachees, do you know of them?"

"Is that the flightless bird that is bigger than a man and can run like the wind?" asked Durc with interest. "We saw some when we were travelling here. I've never seen anything quite like them before."

Kalli nodded. "It sounds like them. A hunting party of Sea Kin were tracking them, and the hunters had set up the tents for the evening at the foot of a hill. Luckily I was playing outside when the earth shook and the mud slid. Some of the tents were covered, swept away in the slide. Toll and Zeena and the other adult Sea Kin dug, trying to save those caught by the mud, but my mother and her mate had died in it.

'Zeena and Toll brought me up. I think of Zeena now as my mother as much as my older sister. And Toll is like the man of my hearth. Jarna and the others always feel like siblings to me." She smiled fondly, an unconscious echo of Toll's ability. Both Durc and Grev had seen other Sea Kin with that expression during the day and were becoming used to the odd grimace; although as Grev said, he'd had longer practice, since Durc occasionally forgot himself and would also smile or laugh now and then as well.

"It was Jarna who started calling me her Little Sister," Kalli recalled. "The name stuck!"

They sat talking and watching the children play, and Durc mused on the fact that the strict gender relationships of his own clan were markedly different from the more casual ways of the Sea Kin and Jorg's clan. There was no way that two adult hunters would be so friendly, so familiar, with a girl, not even a woman yet, not of their immediate family. To Durc it felt like a breath of fresh air after being in stifling temperatures. The loosening of strict hierarchy felt…right, correct and freeing.

"I saw Toll telling Zeena that the competitions will begin the day after tomorrow," Kalli gestured now. "How do you feel about it?"

Grev looked at Durc. "Well, I can't compete, acolytes have to help the Mog-urs with too many arrangements. But my brother here will definitely win the sling-casting competition.

And since I will not be competing against him, he will also win the running races, with his long legs."

Kalli gave her amused look again. "Well, he can't win everything by himself!"

Durc snorted. "Certainly I won't win anything where I have to drag along one of those big heavy spears!"

Grev waggled his hand. "Well, you have to allow for Brac to win something on his own! He'll manage that one just fine."

"What about the other Clans?" Kalli questioned, still with that amused look. "Or will your Clan win everything outright?"

"Oh, you Sea Kin can take the win for any of the water challenges," Grev said magnanimously. "Nobody in our clan can swim."

"What, nobody?" Kalli asked in surprise.

Durc shook his head. "We are inland hunters. There is sea in the distance, but it takes nearly a full morning's walk to get there."

Kalli shook her head, as if such limitations were unbelievable. "Well, I am grateful that there are at least a few competitions where Durc and Brac between them will not win! The western clans must have some glory to share!"

As the shadows began to lengthen, Grev levered himself up from the sand. "Kalli," he said, "would there be somewhere around here with freshwater and perhaps some soaproot? This man has been bathing in salt water lately, I'd really like to have somewhere to wash all the salt and sand off. Durc and I have been invited to Ura's hearth for a meal this evening and I'd like to make a good impression of Broud's clan."

Kalli got to her feet gracefully. "There's a freshwater creek not far from here where you can wash, I'll show you," she replied. "And I know Zeena has soaproot stored, I'll get some. She mixes it with dried rosemary leaves, to make it smell nice."

Grev slapped Durc on the arm playfully. "Come on, hunter. You don't want to meet your new mate's family smelling like a grey wolf!"

"I'd sooner that than smell like a horse," Durc responded as he took his friend's proffered hand and stood up. He allowed himself a grin, seeing as he was in such accepting company.

Kalli called the children to her and they left the beach.

Although Durc had not known quite what to expect when he and Grev took their evening meal with Ura's family, the visit went off surprisingly well. The man of Ura's hearth was Cron, a tactiturn man who seemed to warm more to the pair of young men as the evening progressed, helped in no small measure by Grev's polite friendliness.

Durc allowed no eccentric grimaces to cross his face, instead being courteous and respectful to the older hunter, and it was easy to see that Cron had expected a lot less from Ura's future mate and was as a consequence favourably impressed with the reality.

When Grev recounted the funny story of how he and Durc had captured the reindeer for their manhood ceremony with both sling and spear, Cron was moved to nod approvingly to Durc.

"A good hunter uses whatever weapon is available," he signed. "Even if the prey is not killed at the first blow, it can then be tracked and the next blow will do the job."

The meal was delicious, with Ura especially attentive to both young men in unobtrustive ways. She hung on the stories Grev told and watched with admiring eyes when he and Durc talked of past hunts or reminisced generally on their life with Broud's clan.

"And is Grev mated yet?" Cron asked towards the end of the evening, as Ura served the young men a tea of chamomile. "This one wanted to know," he added, indicating the daughter of his hearth.

Ura blushed and looked down, embarrassed.

Oda said, "It would be easier for Ura to move so far from home if she could become friends with the mate of Grev, he is such a good friend of Durc."

Grev shook his head. "There are no unmated young women at the moment in my clan," he signed. "I am ready for a mate, it is time I moved to my own hearth. Maybe I will find a young woman who suits me here at the Clan Gathering." He turned the force of his friendly personality onto Ura and Oda. "It would please me very much to have a mate as commendable as my friend is going to have."

They took their leave when it became obvious that people were settling down to sleep for the night.

The full moon was out in a cloudless sky, turning the sea to silver, nearly as bright as day. The waves sighed over and over as they caressed the beach.

As they walked slowly back to their guest cave, Grev shook his head ruefully. "You are the lucky one," he told Durc. "The spirits favour you, my friend."

Durc looked at Grev with surprise. 'Lucky' was not a word he would have used for himself. "What do you mean?"

"You have such a comely young woman to look forward to mate," Grev replied patiently.

"I admit she will probably make a good mate for me, she seems dutiful and respectful," Durc replied, wondering about Grev's strange mood. "And now my eye has become used to the Sea Kin people, I find her differences from Clan women to be …not unpleasant to look at."

"Dutiful and respectful? Not unpleasant? I found her perfectly appealing," came the reply. "And she is already a woman, ready to be mated, wanting to be mated. You will be able to mate her here at the end of the Gathering and spend your isolation on the way back to our cave. And I have nobody. That is why I say you are lucky, my brother."

"But…you said to Cron, earlier, that you would look for a woman among the clans here!"

"I have done. Only Kalli attracts my interest, and she is not yet a woman."

"Well, why not use the option that Ura will not now need – Kalli could travel back with us and stay at Mog-ur's hearth until she is a woman. Then you could … oh." And Durc stopped abruptly as he spotted the problem.

Grev nodded slowly. "Yes, oh. And so you see my difficulty. Broud would never allow another woman who does not meet his strict ideals of what is 'normal' to join our clan. It took all of Mog-ur's powers to make him yield to your mating with Ura. My only other option would be to stay here. I could perhaps persuade the Sea Kin's Mog-ur here to continue my training, but he already has two other Acolytes-in-training. It's not something I'd want to do. It would leave Goov in the lurch, for sure, he'd have to find another candidate and start training all over again. And Broud did not give a very good impression of our clan, the Sea Kin and Jorg are being polite about it, but I doubt I could get such a big concession from them as to let me stay."

"But you're a hunter, you'd be welcome in any clan!"

"No, I'm only a hunter on land, Durc. I'm no sea hunter, I can't even swim. I'd need to be taught as if I were a baby. On the sea, I'm a liability."

"Surely there must be some young woman here who would catch your eye, one who is not showing the differences of myself and the Sea Kin, and could come back with us!" Durc said.

Grev pursed his lips in thought. "It is true I have not had the opportunity so far to examine all the young women of Norg's clan. But did you notice this evening, when we had our meal with Ura and her family, that most of the women of mateable age already have a partner? The only ones without were little girls. I was trying to be polite, ogling into another person's hearth is not done, so I may have missed one or two. And the women from these western clans, they all have some trace of Sea Kin showing – darker skin, black curls, that little lumpy bit of bone under the mouth, round heads, tall. Enough that Broud would not allow it." He paused, then added, "you know, in truth I would not mate with Kalli, anyway. Even if it were possible."

"Why not? I thought you liked her."

"I do like her, she's very personable. But when I talk to her, I feel more as if I were talking to… to you, or to Brac…"

Durc felt amusement. "Are you saying she's too like a man?"

"No, not at all. I can't quite put my finger on it. It's more like … like my relationship with my mother, or with the Medicine Woman. That's not quite right, either, but talking to Kalli, there is not the feeling of a woman who is dependent on a man to survive. I get the impression that if she had no Clan, no mate, she would still manage to live, not just survive. For instance, she gathers food like the women of our Clan, yes. But it is not plants she gathers, it is clams, and mussels, and lobster. I have seen Sea Kin women use cast nets, not just mend them. And they all talk together, men and women, without the strict formality our Clan uses between men and women…"

Durc could see his friend was struggling with a concept that was never broached in the Clan, but he felt he could understand what he was trying to say. "Kalli is more like an equal to us, someone with her own status, and knows it?" he suggested. "That if she didn't have a man at her hearth to provide for her and give her status, she would still be perfectly capable of surviving?"

"Yes! Exactly. And surviving well. I don't believe I'd feel comfortable if my mate were like that. It would make me feel somehow… less. For a woman is the one who gives birth, who prepares the food, who gives a man a reason to go on providing for her. Without that reason, what good is a man? She does not need him, but can provide for herself and her children quite well. Ura, though, is dutiful and respectful to a man, she showed that tonight. I could see she was impressed that I was not only the Acolyte and future Mog-ur, but the brother of the future leader, as well. She made me feel… valued."

Durc shook his head. "Personally I would feel that Ura and I would be better suited as mates if she were a little more like Kalli," he said. "I feel … comfortable with Kalli in a way I do not with Ura."

This surprised him, he had never actually thought about his feelings in those terms before, but now that he had said it, it seemed perfectly logical. In fact, when he thought of a mate at all, he suddenly realized, it was not of Ura he thought, but of dark eyes, a smiling mouth, black curls adorned with seashells, pleasing to the eye…

This thought astonished him so much that he was quiet for a time, trying to make sense of this strange and unnerving new feeling. He suddenly felt strangely glad that Grev was unable to mate Kalli…

8

A Ceremony was not customary on the night before the beginning of the competitions. But this evening, as a concession to Broud, the hunters of each clan had gathered in the cave of the Spirits to share memories and attempt to show him that the Sea Kin and their relatives were as much Clan as their kin in the eastern population, no matter how different they might look.

Durc sat quietly in his place beside Brac and the younger hunters of a dozen different clans. Grev and the other Acolytes had taken around the bowls of datura prepared by the Medicine Women of each clan, giving all of the men a swallow, and Durc was beginning to feel the effects of the perception-altering drug.

His ears were ringing, and he noticed that the mud walls of the sturdily built cave seemed to be pulsing, expanding and contracting in time with his breathing. The fire glowing in the central pit also pulsed, flickering and moving as if with a life of its own. The light danced on the walls and black smoke curled up to the dark ceiling, vanishing out of the open smoke hole at the top of the domed roof.

Closest to the fire sat the Mog-urs, each man cloaked in his bearskin, each with the skull of their clan's cave bear in front of them.

Through the silence, Durc suddenly felt a sensation akin to the deep pulsing of a foreign blood stream superimposed on his own, as the Mog-urs took control of the trance state of the men, beginning to guide them back…back…back…

Back to their mutual beginning.

The mud walls of the cave flickered fitfully and disappeared. There was no sight now, just the feel of floating quietly in the warm saline water enveloping the infant world, living in the water and on the sunlight and dividing into more individuals.

The period of millions of years seemed to stretch for eternity, and in reality passed by in less than ten seconds.

Then there was a jolt as life diverged, again and again in a great arms race of predator and prey, evolving eyes to see with, jaws to eat with, heavy scales of armour and spines to avoid being eaten. Monstrous creatures swam in the world now, with long bodies and strangely shaped mouths full of teeth. Some of them were the farthest ancestors of humans, some were the prey, all of them joining in the great dance of life.

A divergence, and Durc felt the fear as he crawled across weed in a humid, buzzing swamp, trying to escape the monstrous teeth chasing behind him. He used his muscular front fins to haul his heavy, flopping body up out of the water, gasping in painful breaths and drowning in the humid air before reaching the other side of a small mud embankment and diving back into a tidal pool, safe from the teeth…

Another divergence, and he was out of the water completely now, dipping his reptilian snout in to drink and moving away from the lake to hunt. A little animal ducked away just before he could fasten his jaws around it…

Diverge, and he was a small mammal sheltering in a burrow from huge scaly and feathery monsters outside. There was a pair of mammals in this burrow, actively caring for squirming blind hairless young, warm-blooded creatures. Durc settled down and began to feed her young with milk…

Diverge, and now he was another creature, living in the trees, and coming down occasionally to drink from a tiny pool at the base of the home tree. There were others about, they lived in small social groupings and feasted on the rich fruits and flowers of the canopy…

And now he was standing upright on two hind legs, leaving forelegs free to manipulate, and eyes to see further horizons…

He watched as the land changed from warm to ice and back again, oscillating in a great stately dance. The first true people were black-skinned, and he looked at his own hands in fascination, turning them to see the lighter palms and the darker-skinned knuckles, human at last after elapsed time of billions of years and half an hour…

He reached for a stone at his feet and noticed that it was naturally sharp-edged, and wondered if he could produce the same effect with another stone that was rounded. He hit it against a rock and felt wonder when it shattered and made the same cutting edges as the rock he had found. He decided to keep it…

He and his social group of a few families were travelling northwards during a cold period, following game. They were losing their darker skin tones the further north they travelled, as their bodies adapted to long cloudy days of winter and the risk of rickets due to vitamin D3 deficiency became enough of an evolutionary pressure to develop lighter-coloured skin...

It was at this point that Durc felt the same drawing-away sensation that he had felt before in trance, a feeling that he should leave this group and wake up. He used the technique taught to him by Mog-ur, focused on the Clan side of his ancestry and once again settled deep down into trance.

The Clan people's bodies became shorter and stockier to withstand the colder conditions and they began to wear the skins of animals to survive in the winter. Clans used fire now, spreading out across the land and living in caves…

Ice Mountain threatened, bringing with it an Ice Age longer and harsher than any humans had ever seen. Many of the clans of Europe settled on the coast, relying on the sea for their protein, developing raft-like boats to fish far out to sea. Durc became a strong swimmer, rubbing fat onto the skin of her body to withstand the cold water and diving down deep to collect mussels in her net…

The coastal clan leading to the Sea Kin ventured further and further from shore, and found many small islands where they could stop, rest, replenish water, mend their boats, allowing them to spend sometimes weeks out at sea. Over generations the Clan leapfrogged its way across the Mediterranean…

A group of fishers and divers was caught in a storm and blown far from the island they had been camping on. The storm raged for many days, taking the boat with it. The people on the boat caught and ate raw fish and drank any rainwater they could catch and store in their waterbags. They were becoming desperate and dehydrated, when, on the horizon, a great white cloud was spotted. Birds flew in the air again, their presence also declaring that there was solid ground. The fishers paddled desperately towards the land that the cloud and the birds represented. And Africa was rediscovered, so long after the Clan's ancestors had first left…

The people living there were tall, dark-skinned and had tight curls of black hair. Their heads were differently-shaped from Clan people too, possessing chins and domed foreheads. But there was no question that they were human, and people with fish, willing to share, are welcome anywhere. And arriving in the middle of famine meant that the smaller, stockier, paler apparitions from the sea were welcomed almost immediately, given water and their arrival celebrated. The people feasted on dried fish, both sides almost giddy with relief, the one from cessation of hunger, the other with surfeit of water. The people couldn't understand each other's languages, but there is a universal communication of expressions and bodies and soon enough they were able to talk. The African people picked up the language of hands and the Clan people found they were still able to share memories of their common beginnings with these tall, dark-skinned cousins. Matings took place and many healthy children were born. The famine ended and times were good. Until the next great drought…

The people originally from the Clan, now old, remembered a colder, wetter land with snow and ice but reliable big game. They packed their blended families onto many boats built in a more streamlined, easily-paddled shape, and set sail north, back across the islands of the Mediterranean, to Europe, guided by the memories of the Clan Elders…

Ceremonies were held and the two peoples who had become one, who had become the Sea Kin, found that they could still share memories with those relatives and friends who had been left behind in Europe. The Ice Age continued, but the people prospered, with skills of both sea and land making for a very efficient and prolific group. They spread up and down the coast, finding other Clan people, sharing the results of their fishing and their stories, mating and having families who were as much Sea Kin as they were Clan, a whole greater than the sum of its parts…

Durc awoke slowly, reluctant to leave the trance. It had felt like the best dream he could remember having, a dream of a possible future with people who looked like him, who acted like him, who smiled and laughed and, yes, cried without embarrassment or fear of censure. For the first time in such a ceremony, he felt totally at one with these people.

I am like them, he thought to himself in wonder. We are all people, however different we may seem at first sight. My mother would have liked these people, she may even have found a mate amongst them, have been happy, had other children…

The thought had arisen suddenly, and he was assailed with such an acute sense of loss that it brought tears to his closed eyes; he felt them trickling down his cheeks.

If she could only have lived a little longer, we could be living here, with the Sea Kin, he thought, feelingthe grief fill him. "Nobody would have thought I was deformed, I would have learned to hunt fish on the water and swim. And … Ayla, my mother, would still be alive…"

He lay for another few moments regaining control of himself. He'd never felt quite like this before when they had completed a Ceremony. He accepted his lot in life and usually was happy with it – Uba was his mother, as good as, and Vorn the man of his hearth. He was loved and had friends. He had a mate to look forward to and one day, in the fullness of time, he might become Second to the Leader. It was more than many had. But still… sometimes, as now, he ached for his real mother, the one he could now only remember in small snatches. How oddly poignant that he could remember back to the very beginnings of life, yet only remember his own mother in small treasured fragments.

He took a couple of slow deep breaths and brushed the tears off his wet cheeks with one hand. Only then did he open his eyes. The fire had burned down to embers, but he saw in its glow that other hunters were slowly regaining consciousness, stretching and stirring. Some, in particular the youngest and oldest of the hunters, had curled up and were in a deep dreamless sleep where they had sat.

Brac opened his eyes and met Durc's. Durc could see that Brac noticed his watery eyes but also knew that the other hunter would not comment. He was as used to Durc's occasional eccentricities as Grev, and probably thought it merely a side-effect of the trance. Brac lifted one hand drowsily.

"Well, Broud cannot argue with that," he signed slowly, one-handed. "Sea Kin are Clan and Clan are Sea Kin. Just with added Other! Mog-ur was right, he is always right – the spirits mix, the differences are not deformity at all."

Durc glanced towards where Broud and the other leaders were sitting. Their leader was expressionless but did not look impressed.

Durc signed back to Brac, guardedly, "I don't think Broud likes it, though."

Brac shrugged one shoulder. "What can he do? The Sea Kin follow Custom and always have done. We know that now. Not even Broud can argue with the will of the spirits."

A stray breeze stirred a few loose tendrils of hair, cooling for a moment his sweat-beaded brow, as Durc carefully gauged the distance from the newly-redrawn line of the starting mark to the heap of sand on the beach that was acting as a target.

The tensely watching throng of massed clans lined the periphery of the strand. Kalli, Grev and Ura were there, raptly watching, standing alongside Brac, who had been knocked out of the sling-casting competition early. Brac had been pragmatic about it: the sling was not his weapon of preference and he was not particularly proficient with it. His time would come tomorrow morning, when the running and spear race would be held. Durc was in that, as well, due to his speed, but it needed also proficiency wielding the heavy spear, and that was Brac's weapon of choice.

But Durc had stayed in the sling-casting competition, consistently hitting the target, the only man of Broud's clan still in it. He still used his double-stone technique; the first time he had done it, the Mog-urs judging the competition had looked surprised, and there had been a flashing of hands as people commented on the rapid-fire casting, but nobody had objected. Every competitor was allowed two shots at the target anyway.

Durc had just sped up the process by sending one stone careening after the other in quick fire, so fast that it was hard for the eye to follow. Since the rules did not state how soon after the first stone the second must be cast, he had kept using it as the morning wore on and the field was thinned to the three best sling-casters. There was usually no need for a second stone, as the first stone consistently hit the target he had aimed at. He was now as good as Zoug in his hey-day. Maybe even as good as Ayla when she had lived. He hoped they both were watching from the spirit world and were proud of his efforts.

Rog stepped up to the mark. This young man was Durc's main competition; he was from Norg's clan and they were as much land-hunters as Broud's clan, more used to sling-casting than the Sea Kin and the associated coastal clans. The stocky young man glanced at Durc, then back at the sand, concentrating hard. His first stone hit the sand target and the second, flung after a moment of intense concentration, was also successful. He breathed out and stepped back beside Durc as Voord stepped up to the line drawn in the sand.

Voord looked nervous; the target was at the very edge of his ability. His first cast stone hit the sand in front of the heaped target, a near miss. His second stone was flung in frustration and flew wide of the mark. He returned to his clan watching on the sideline, receiving a few sympathetic pats on the shoulder from friends as he did so.

Now it was Durc's turn. He settled his feet on the line drawn in the sand, and with a movement almost too quick to follow, cast one, two! The muffled thwack! thwack! of stones hitting the target and the small explosion of disturbed sand let him know he had again been successful. As the field of sling-casters had been reduced throughout the morning, the starting line had been moved further and further back, making it harder to hit the target. But Durc found that it was still well within his range, and his nerves had settled as one after another, other sling-casters were eliminated.

Now it was down to two, Durc and Rog. The Mog-ur of the hosting clan stood up and went to the sand hill target, followed by his acolyte, who was holding a large conch shell.

The Mog-ur raised his hands and every eye went to him. "For this deciding competition, the competitors must each hit the sand close enough that the shell moves," he pronounced solemnly. "If the shell itself is hit, then that man is the winner."

He nodded to his acolyte and the young man carefully placed the conch on top of the sand target, carefully patting and smoothing the sand so that the shell stood upright on its fluted end.

Both men withdrew as Rog again came to the mark. He took some time on this attempt, looking at the shell, holding his sling at arms-length lining it up several times and going to some trouble to select the smoothest stone from the leather holder at his waist.

Finally, he let out a deep breath and cast. The stone flew straight and chipped the shell with an audible chink! making it rock on its end. Rog gave a grunt of triumph, then cast again, the second stone hitting the sand just below the shell and making it shift a little on the sand. A smug expression on his face, Rog looked to the Mog-ur that had spoken previously.

The Mog-ur nodded solemnly. "Good shots, hunter Rog. But before you can take the win, Durc of Broud's clan must also have his attempt. If Durc also hits the shell once, then both men must try again."

Durc breathed out in relief; he had feared that Rog would be credited with the win before he had his turn. Because at this range, Durc was confident that he could hit the target.

He clutched the amulet at his neck for a second, sending a thought asking the Grey Wolf spirit to aid him, then strode up to the mark, his hand already holding the two stones he needed.

Taking a moment to sight on the shell, he moved in a blur, sending his two stones streaking one after another towards the heap of sand. The first stone hit the conch, making the shell visibly shift, wobbling unsteadily from its seating; the second one hit a split second later while the shell was still moving, exploding it into dozens of fragments.

Rog was watching open-mouthed at the display, seeing what he had confidently thought was his win brought to ruins with the fragments of shell spattering to the sand. But after a frozen moment, the Sea Kin all began to vocalize in wild applause. It was a curious sound, a long "ooooo" mediated by tapping the mouth quickly and repeatedly with one hand. People from clans with a proportion of Sea Kin also copied the sound, until the whole beach rang to the appreciative applause.

Durc glanced across at his group of friends: Grev, always demonstrative in emotion, was in an excess of exuberance hugging Ura, who looked stunned, but pleased. Then to Durc's astonishment Kalli was beside him, widely grinning, grabbing him around the waist and hugging him tightly. His clan surrounded him as she let him go, Brac slapping his shoulder with a pleased expression, everybody congratulating him on his decisive win, Vorn and Uba beaming proudly, Brun giving him a considered nod of acknowledgement and praise. Durc felt warmed by so much whole-hearted approbation.

Slowly Rog came through the crowd around Durc. Durc braced himself, not knowing exactly what to expect, but Rog lifted his hands and signed, "Good win, Durc, hunter of Broud's clan. Much talent, sling."

Durc felt the sincerity in the other hunter's congratulations. "This man thanks Rog of Norg's clan," he signed back with equal sincerity. "Rog gave this man strong competition. Rog also much talent with sling."

It was the happiest day of Durc's life.

"Durc must keep his head under the water," Kalli remonstrated. "Take your breath to side, like this," and she swam away through the wavelets, as sinuous as a seal, pulling herself through the water with long strokes of her arms, head down, taking breaths to the side in demonstration.

Durc tried again, swimming towards her slowly and clumsily and then treading water beside her as he reached her, flushed with success.

"How was that?" he signed one-handed, using his other hand to help stabilise himself in the water.

"Much better! You will soon be as good swimmer as sling-caster!" And Kalli used both hands to mime an exploding shell, making a "posht!" noise as she did so in imitation of the sound, grinning widely at him at the same time, bobbing confidently in the water. She used lazy strokes from her legs under the water to stay upright on the surface apparently effortlessly. Durc had to concentrate to do the same and still needed to keep one hand in the water to stabilize himself. But he could talk with one hand.

Now he smiled back – he was still a little shy about using that facial expression so freely.

"You always … smile… at me now," he said, using the spoken name for the word the way Toll and the Sea Kin did. "I like it. Nobody else in Broud's clan does that. I know when people are happy, or sad. But this expression with the mouth, before I met you, and Toll, and the Sea Kin, I was the only one who did it."

"I was careful not to do it when you first arrived, because we, Sea Kin, know Clan people not smile," Kalli answered. "I was glad when I saw Durc smile at me. Made me feel more like you were another Sea Kin."

"I'd like to be Sea Kin," Durc admitted. "People are so friendly here. I like it very much that men and women, not related, not within family, talk to each other, can be friends. Broud's clan is very… formal." He was struggling to make his meaning clear; in Broud's clan men and women were not so casual with each other, the hierarchy and gender were always there in the background. The Sea Kin, in comparison, often talked freely to each other, men and women not adhering to the strict social conventions that Durc now felt so constrained by.

"Why not stay?" Kalli asked seriously. "Durc learn to swim now, can learn to hunt our way, also. Or travel with tent, hunt mammoth and Pachees on land. I know Toll and Zeena like you, are impressed by you. With their recommendation, Jorg would be happy to add you to his hunters. And I … I will miss my new friend very much when you leave."

Durc nodded. "I can't say I haven't thought about it," he answered one handed. "But…no. I would miss my family, my friends, too much." And, he thought to himself, I have that offer from Brac, once he is leader, to become his second. "Also, I have Ura to think of now, we are to be mated at the end of the Clan Gathering. It's not fair to settle here with her, so very far from her family. Norg's clan is one moon's travel from my clan's location; but how much further to here!"

"It's quicker by canoe, travelling along the coast," Kalli said. "Rashi is already telling youngsters of the Sea Kin what a good clan is Norg's. Many young adults will probably travel there after this Gathering, in their canoes." She shook her long wet curls out of her face. "Durc is sure he will not stay?"

Her big brown eyes seemed to fill the world, and Durc felt strange conflicting emotions. She was so close to him as they floated together in the warm water, and he wanted to stay so much, he really did! To settle here with Ka… Kalli? he thought. No, Ura is going to be my mate, why am I thinking of Kalli? I don't even want a mate yet! Do I?

With an effort he managed to force himself to look away from Kalli's face, and glanced at the beach. Ura and Grev were sitting there, ostensibly watching them, but facing each other, their hands flashing as they conversed. It seemed Grev was also enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere within the Sea Kin clan to become good friends with Ura. Durc had wondered to himself what would happen when they returned to the more reserved and strict hierarchy of Broud's clan after the Gathering. But now all he could think about was Kalli, her offer of a possible future with the Sea Kin, to stay here, to never have to feel like he was an outsider due to his looks …His head was spinning.

"I don't know why those two insisted on coming along," he said abruptly, changing the subject to allow himself time to think. His heart was pounding strangely fast in his chest, and he didn't know why. "Grev said he wanted to learn to swim as well, but he didn't do more than get wet before he was back sitting on the beach! And Ura hasn't come in at all."

Kalli shook her head, staring at him. "You really don't know?" she asked. The ready smile had gone, she now looked puzzled. "That is another reason I thought Durc might wish to stay here, with me… with the Sea Kin."

"What do you mean, what other reason?"

Kalli looked exasperated about something, but just said, "Let's swim back, I must go help Zeena prepare the evening meal."

Durc spread both hands to say something, bobbed down involuntarily and got a mouthful of salty water. By the time he got himself righted and stabilized again he had forgotten what he wanted to say, and Kalli had left him, heading back to the beach with strong strokes of her arms.

Durc stared after her, then followed more slowly and carefully, wondering. Kalli seems annoyed with me, he thought in confusion. What did I say to upset her?

9

By the next morning Kalli had resumed her usual friendly manner, and Durc was relieved enough not to mention their conversation regarding him staying.

The next few days were busy and full of excitement as the competitions became more intense. The weaker competitors were being weeded out as they progressed towards the final.

Brun had been amongst the top three in the bola throw; the older hunter and former leader had worked hard on his technique with the stones since he had quit the ranks of the big-game hunters; he beat his old rival Nouz of Norg's clan easily. However it was not to be his win: Nakul, a man from an inland clan, managed to beat him, hurling with force and wrapping his bola forcefully around the target stump.

Brun had been so impressed with his technique that as soon as the bola competition was decided, he went to talk to Nakul, quizzing him about how he achieved his impressive results. Durc could see them at one end of the beach, the compact, grizzled old former leader of Broud's clan deep in conversation with the tall, thin, dark-skinned man, both of them squatting on their heels as their hands flashed, discussing hunting techniques with the bola in a meeting of minds and skills.

"Nakul is one of my cousins," Kalli told Durc, Grev and Ura. "He moved inland and mated Mirri of Trig's clan. Their clan specializes in hunting the Pachee – a bola is the best way to catch them. They move fast, but if a group of hunters approach a flock upwind, the flock turn to face them. That way, another small group of hunters with nets and bolas can get behind them downwind and hide in the long grass. When the flock turn to flee from the first group, they then run right into the second group. Nakul excels with the bola – I was not surprised that he won."

Durc nodded. He had been getting used to this idea of "cousins", which seemed to be a uniquely Sea Kin idea. In his clan people were related with complex ties, and everybody knew who everybody else was, and their forebears and relationships, but it had never been given a formal relationship name as it was here.

Durc had learned that a cousin was the daughter or son of a mother's sister and was extended even to her mother's male sibling and any children of his mate. So Kalli had many cousins through the matrilineal line, through her mother she was related to a large number of Sea Kin. Given that the Sea Kin tended towards families with many children, most of whom were exceptionally healthy and vigorous and lived to adulthood, this meant that Kalli had a complex web of cousins, forged through matings and children born from these.

Durc had been fascinated to learn of it, and had asked eager questions. He had learned that "uncles" and "aunts" were the names given to siblings of one's mother. Uncles in particular were considered to have a closer tie to the children even than the man of their hearth, mated to their mother, did. After all, their mother may have swallowed the spirit of any man in close contact with her, but a sibling was definitely related to their mother.

Grev, however, had complained that it made his head ache and how could anybody keep such tangled relationships straight in their heads? For his part he was glad just to have two siblings, Brac and Eda, it made it easier to remember.

"But Grev, I have heard you refer to Durc as your brother, on more than one occasion," Ura commented to Grev. "This woman has wondered about that."

"Every hunter in our clan is considered a brother," Durc told her.

Grev held one hand at waist height, palm flat to the ground and rocked the hand slightly, his lips pursed, signalling equivocal emotion. "That is essentially correct," he said, "but when I use it to you Durc, it is because I consider you to be more than that. My mother fed you milk alongside of me, when your mother was unable to. We took our first steps together and have always been the best of friends. Because of that, we are closer than most Clan hunters. We are more like two brothers-born-together," Grev explained to Ura, before laying one hand on Durc's shoulder. "You are my brother, Durc, just as much as Brac is my brother. Having a different mother doesn't change that in my heart." He gave Kalli an amused look. "There is merit and much to admire in your Sea Kin relationships, Kalli," he said. "But this talk of cousins, aunts and uncles, it still is difficult for me - I sometimes feel as if I need another head on my shoulders just to take it all in!"

It was something which Durc had heard much of lately – since meeting the Sea Kin, his clan were having their ideas expanded incrementally, day by day, beyond the normal range. It seemed that the majority of people in his clan admired the Sea Kin. Broud did not voice his disapproval of them aloud anymore and most people with specific roles, such as the Medicine Woman and the Mog-ur, were quietly impressed with their counterparts. The Sea Kin had a sense of fun which at times seemed almost childish in its behaviour, a youthful joyousness in life that the clan, for the most part, lacked. It was not that they took life less seriously, or did not feel as deeply; but they expressed themselves with a freedom Durc had never imagined before.

Three hides had been brought on to the beach. Each one was laid over a pile of sand, with heavy rocks outlining the edges of the hides to keep them secure. The Mog-ur used his staff in the damp sand to carefully draw lines extending from the hide. The staff had a sharp point of ivory hafted to one end for the purpose of drawing. When the Mog-ur used it as a staff of office he put the butt end on the ground, but now he had reversed it so that the sharp end dug clearly-delineated lines into the sand. Superficially it looked like a hunting spear, but to Durc it resembled one of the lighter spears that he and Grev preferred to use. He wondered idly for a moment what it would fly like, if thrown as a spear.

"Why is he doing that?" Durc asked Kalli.

"That is so the competitors know what they are spearing," she answered. "It makes it more…like a real hunt. That first one, it has four legs, see, and a curved horn at one end? That is meant to be a woolly rhinoceros."

Durc squinted at it and suddenly realized that the apparently random patterns of lines did indeed lend themselves to a suggestion of an animal, albeit one flat on the sand.

"The next one is a Pachee, it has only two long legs," Kalli went on. "The third line is its neck, you can see the Acolyte has put a shell at the end of that line to represent the head. The idea is to make a killing blow with the placing of the spear, not just to wound. The lines help in aiming a blow."

"My clan saw those big birds when we travelled here," Grev said. "I do not think any person would be able to run fast enough to catch one. Certainly not get close enough to spear it."

"Usually they are brought down with bolas or nets first," Kalli answered. "A man would have to be fleet indeed to run them down!"

"And what's that last one supposed to be?" Ura pointed. The Mog-ur had drawn one long line to the basic oval shape of the hide. "Is that a mammoth on one leg, hopping?"

Durc snorted with laughter at the sudden unexpected mental image, and after a second, Kalli joined in. The idea of a hopping mammoth was just too ridiculous, and Durc looked at Ura with new appreciation. She had made a joke, on purpose!

Kalli shook her head, still chuckling. "That's supposed to be a ray," she explained. "A type of fish."

"What's it doing on the land, then?" questioned Grev the pragmatist.

"Floppping about?" Durc suggested, and he and Kalli burst out laughing again. Ura placed her hand in front of her mouth, but not quite quickly enough to hide the slight quirk of her mouth as she tried hard not to smile. Durc felt a quick surge of sympathetic fellow-feeling towards the young woman: how often had he covered his mouth in just the same way to hide his grimace from his clan in the past?

Grev just shook his head tolerantly. "How sad it is for me to have friends who are all insane," he signed. But although his face lacked a smile, still his eyes sparkled with fun.

The four of them quieted as the competition began.

Each clan had chosen one man to compete for this all-important spear race. Broud's clan had lost a lot of ground, and were truly battling now, not to retain their top-ranked position, held over so many years, but simply to stay in the top three or four.

Broud had led the hunt re-enactment the evening before, and it had been enthralling. But Trig's clan had shown a Pachee hunt which was so realistic as to make the watchers feel as if they were participating. Some of the men adorned themselves with feathery head-dresses made from the Pachee plumes and acted the part of the prey, with others playing the part of the hunters. The tall, lithe brown bodies with their plumes twirled to face first one hunter then the next, stomping their feet in the sand, breaking and re-grouping, and finally one succumbed to a dramatically flung, invisible bola, falling down helplessly. The audience groaned in mock dismay, for once wanting the beautiful feathered prey to escape. And when it was over, the audience again burst into their curious whooping applause. Trig's clan had quite decisively won the hunt re-enactment.

Droog's talent as an expert worker of stone was usurped by Gragen of Jorg's clan. He was the eldest son of the Sea Kin mate of Yend, born to the woman before she mated Yend. He had taken the boy into his hearth and mentored him, and apart from Gragen's skill with knapping flint, he also made the most intricate fishhooks of bone or shell. Instead of a simple gorge, the hooks he made were works of art, carved, detailed and polished, with a delicate hole drilled in top for the fishing line.

They were so prized by the Sea Kin and clans along the coast that hardly any were used for actual fishing; instead many people who had one would string it onto leather and wear it as an ornament rather than risk losing it inside of a fish. It was a work of art far more than it was a tool to hunt with. It was unlikely that any of the intricate pieces now would even function as fish-hooks, they were too stylized to be anything other than adornments.

"When a couple are to be mated, it is the custom of our clan for the man to present the woman with a fish hook like that to wear," Kalli had told her friends. "The man usually gives Gragen something of value in return. Zeena has one; Toll gave Gragen two whole wild geese he had brought down with his sling. Zeena only wears it on very special occasions, she is so proud of it. And women will give them to men they care about; the hooks are supposed to ward off danger and protect them while hunting. Gragen never needs to go on hunts anymore; he spends all his time making fish hooks to be worn! He swaps them for whatever he needs. "

For the purposes of the competition however, Gragen had produced a wickedly sharp and definitely fit-for-purpose, beautifully-balanced bone fish hook, had tied a line to it and even caught a small goby in the wavelets of the beach in the time it had taken Droog to produce a passable flint knife.

The wrestling event had gone to a man of Norg's clan. Bron was the younger brother of Gorn, who had gone to the spirit world during the last Clan Gathering, and he was a stocky and muscular man with stamina who beat all the other wrestlers he was matched against.

So Broud's clan had definitely slipped significantly down in the rankings, and even if one of their own won the next race, they could not hope to stay first-ranked now. Most of the clan accepted it; what else could they do? They just hoped to at least not be ranked last.

Although Durc was the fastest young man in his clan, he had never overcome his clumsiness in trying to run while hefting a full-length heavy spear – it tended to unbalance him. Brac had been chosen to represent their clan in this particular event: his stamina was good and his arm was strong with a true aim. Durc was content to watch his friend from the audience; he had, after all, won the sling competition, which he felt was kudos enough for his first year as a man. He felt some relief, as well. It was the three winners of this race who would be included in the bear festival at the end of the competitions. Durc, in his first year of manhood, would be joining the other more inexperienced men as the second line of spear-wielding defence between the bear and the audience, which was more than enough to satisfy him; he had no wish to be one of the three who would face the uncaged monster he had seen on his first day here.

The men chosen for the event lined up in order of clan status, while other hunters, carrying spears, went to the various targets.

The lower ranked clans paired up first, and at a signal from Jorg, two young men dashed for the first target, the woolly rhinoceros drawn in the sand. The spears slammed into the hide, then both men grabbed a second spear from their clansmen waiting beside the target. They sprinted for the Pachee and went to spear it, but one hunter slid on the slippery gravel beneath his feet and missed his target altogether, the spear landing to one side. The man now in the lead made good his sudden advantage and headed for the hide representing a ray, spearing it straight through the middle and lifting his arms triumphantly into the air as he ran past.

By the time the heats had been run, Brac, Toll, and Nakul were the last three to compete. Toll had beaten everybody in his heats mainly due to his longer legs, but he had run four races and was the oldest of the competitors besides. He was tiring against the younger men. The Mog-urs declared a rest period until later in the afternoon, and the beach was deserted as everybody, audience and racers alike, retired to their caves for food and recuperation.

Kalli and Ura walked back together, their hands flashing in conversation. But Grev decided to stay for a while; he joined the other acolytes who were carefully stamping down the sand and fine gravel of the course to smooth it for the final race; it had been torn up with all the running and the carefully drawn lines to the hides had disappeared, the hides themselves the worse for wear. Durc joined him, all of the young men carrying waterbags from the sea to pour on the sand to help repair the course.

Once it was as smooth and as firm as they could manage, the Mog-ur re-drew his lines, making a woolly rhinoceros, a Pachee, and a ray appear once again, where there had just been three heaps of hide-covered and churned-up sand and gravel.

It was late in the afternoon when everyone gathered at the beach again. Hands flashed as people discussed the three competitors – nearly everybody agreed that Trig's clan had given an honourable account of themselves; prior to this Gathering they had been amongst the lowest-ranked clans, and had managed through sheer determination and skill to get up to the first three, with their hunt re-enactment and Nakul's skill with the bola. Jorg's clan were proud that one of their own, even though an adopted Other, was also in the race. And Broud's clan were keyed-up and anxious, since Brac's performance had at least won them a place in the top three.

The three men in the competition stalked along the beach, stretching their muscles and hefting spears to find the right balance. Vorn moved to the heap of sand denoting a rhinoceros with two men from the other clans, while Borg went to the Pachee with two hunters. They each carried a spear for their team mates to use.

Brac, Toll and Nakul lined up three abreast. Compared to the long legs and height of the other two competitors, Brac seemed small and stocky, but the determined look on his face brooked no argument – he was determined to do all he could to win. The three men fastened their eyes on Jorg and waited for his signal. The leader of the host Clan lifted his arm. He dropped it quickly and the men were off.

Nakul sprang to the lead with Toll at his heels, and Brac pounding alongside Toll, just managing to keep up with the longer legs of the Other.

The three spears skewered the heap of sand that was the rhinoceros at almost the same time, and all three grabbed for the second spear from their clansmen. Brac and Toll were neck and neck as they approached the second target, but Nakul appeared to stretch out with his long legs and put on another burst of speed. He outdistanced his competitors and jabbed his spear into the hide-covered sand well ahead of the other two. He grabbed his third spear and raced on.

Now Toll's age could be seen to be against him. Although rested, he was not as resilient as Brac. The younger hunter surged ahead and plunged his spear into the target an instant before Toll's hit.

At this, Durc could not contain himself; he whooped, and began to applaud the effort in the Sea Kin manner, with one hand clapping over his mouth as he yelled. Grev gave him an appreciative look and joined in, and Kalli grinned, yelled, "Toll, go!" and began to applaud as well. Ura risked a nervous glance at her family standing a little distance away, and then joined in with the ululation of her three friends. The applause was taken up by all the Clans, caught up in the spirit of the race, and soon the whole beach was ringing to the enthusiastic sound, spurring on the three racers.

Nakul reached the final target well ahead of the other two. With his eyes shining, he planted his spear in the sand and slowed, doing another lap with both his arms raised in victory.

Brac and Toll were still closely matched, but it was obvious that Brac was one or two paces ahead of the older hunter. He planted his spear clearly before Toll's could hit and the race was decided.

The clans all jostled around, congratulating the runners, slapping them on the back and shoulders and some still applauding with their voices.

Durc knew that Brac could wait for his congratulations, as Broud's clan crowded around him. He went instead with Kalli to where Toll was bent over, his hands on his knees, panting to get his breath back. As Durc and Kalli approached with Zeena, he straightened up, his eyes shining and a big grin on his face, still catching his breath.

"That's the last time I'll be running that race!" he signed. "In the last Clan Gathering, I won all running races easily. But it seems I'm getting too old now!"

"Perhaps your totem wants you to slow down," his mate signed. "But well done, Old Man!"

Kalli caught Durc's eye and grinned; Durc had been amazed the first time he had heard Zeena address her mate in such an off-hand manner, but now he was used to it, he realized that it was affectionately teasing in tone, not meant to be taken seriously.

Toll grinned widely at her and opened his arms in invitation and Zeena gave in and embraced him.

10

The first morning light found the women of the clans working atop the hill behind the mud caves. Several deep, stone-lined pits had been constructed, and fires were burning in them. These would act as ovens once the Bear Ceremony was over, but other food was also being prepared in anticipation. Crushed grass seeds were mixed with water and baked on hot stones, a breakfast that was only eaten for this one day out of every seven years.

Not long after the seed cakes were served, the leaders and their Mog-urs arranged themselves on the strand, quietly waiting for the attention of the assembled clans. Behind them on the rocks was Seal Slayer's enclosure. The great bear was sunning himself on the rocks, occasionally glancing at the assembled throng of humans with a bored gaze. His enclosure overlooked the strand where the competitions in his honour had been carried out. Sometimes he had been too busy swimming or sleeping to notice, but this morning he had deigned to grace the waiting people with his presence. He yawned, showing massive yellow teeth before lazily scratching an itch on his stomach with one clawed hand.

The silence spread out like the ripples of a stone cast in a pond as the presence of the Mog-urs became noticed and the significance realized. Men moved quickly into positions defined by clan position and personal rank. Durc hefted his heavy lance-like spear and went to stand alongside the other younger hunters from the Clans, who formed an inner arc between the experienced and heavily-armed older hunters and the unarmed women and children.

The Bear Ceremony was about to begin.

The acolytes of the Mog-urs began to beat the wooden drums, echoing around the beach and back from the rocky cliffs lining the sand. Throwing sticks were clapped together. The waves rushing up to the beach made a sussurating counterpoint along with the lonely cry of gulls circling in the air.

Then the Mog-ur of Jorg's clan, who was seated cross-legged on the sand beside the acolytes, took up a long, hollowed out tree branch. The man's face was daubed with black manganese and grey ash coated his hair, face and beard. He wore a leather headband holding his hair back from his face and leather armbands encircled both upper arms. With due solemnity he steadied one end of the instrument against his foot and began to blow into the other end. The instrument was this particular Mog-ur's speciality, and its eerie booming resonance, in the skilled hands of the Mog-ur, evoked the sonorous Voice of Ursus, calling the Greatest of the Spirits to bear witness to this final part of the Bear Ceremony.

The bass voice of Ursus died away on an expectant note and an instant later a high-pitched warble could be heard. Its otherworldly ululation raised gooseflesh on the arms of more than a few of the warily watching clan.

Durc stared at the Mog-urs in amazement and saw that one held the hollow leg bone of a bird to his mouth. He was using one hand to stop and unstopper the hole at the open end of the flute, and Durc realised that this sound was something he had been told about by Kalli. As the bigger instrument symbolised the roar of the physical Cave Bear, this smaller flute was the sound of the spiritual voice of Ursus. Durc had been unable to imagine it before, but having once heard it, he knew he would never forget the sound. He spared a thought for Nakul, Toll and Brac. As the representatives of the first, second and third-ranked clans, Durc wondered how they were feeling, as they waited just around the corner of the rocks for the start. Durc was very glad that it was not he who had run the deciding race. He was scared enough just standing here with a lance, his mouth was dry and his legs felt shaky.

Seal Slayer had ambled over to the wooden bars of his cage, apparently intrigued by the noises. He had not been fed since the previous morning and water had been withdrawn at sunset. As a result he was hungry and thirsty. His temper, easily changeable from placid to ferocious at the best of times, had now firmly shifted to annoyed and impatient. He hauled himself up onto his hind-legs and hanging on to the bars gave a few warning chuffs, then roared a complaint at the throng of people standing on the beach below.

Durc was very aware of the mass of women and children standing behind him, watching the tableau in awed silence. They were totally unarmed, and should any of the lancers standing between them and the great bear fall, they could easily be killed. Durc gripped his lance tighter, his knuckles white, feeling his responsibilities as a protector in every nerve and sinew of his body.

In the row directly in front of him stood Broud. His stance showed no fear, and Durc remembered the tales told proudly by Vorn of how Broud had been the first place holder in the last Clan Gathering, when Durc had been a baby. Durc wondered what Broud was feeling now, knowing that the eldest son of his mate was going to be one of the ones to send Great Ursus to the Spirit World. Was he proud of his heir–apparent, or terrified for him, as Durc was?

Durc gripped his totem amulet with one hand and sent a quick plea to the Grey Wolf to help his friend, his brother Brac, in this task. He also added a thought for Toll, who he had grown fond of since they had been there, and then a last one for Nakul, who was, after all, Kalli's cousin.

As he added the last thought he saw that Broud had glanced back at him over his shoulder with a sneer, as if being seen appealing to one's totem was a sign of weakness, before facing the front again. Durc flushed, feeling unaccountably as if he had been caught doing something wrong, fearful and shameful.

Broud had the capacity to often make him feel small and insignificant. And a thought struck him suddenly – could it be that the man was jealous of the eldest son of his mate? This thought was so extraordinary that it took Durc's mind off his own discomfiture. He gazed at the lines of Broud's back, intrigued, suddenly sure of the idea. Something in the man's body language, the way he stood, made Durc acutely aware that Broud sorely missed the glory days when he had been the Bear Champion.

Mov, Mog-ur of Jorg's clan, laid his instrument in the sand beside his drawing staff. Standing, he took a small bowl of water, handed to him by his senior acolyte. He placed the water container down by the bars of the cage and stepped back to the other Mog-urs who were waiting solemnly.

Seal Slayer poked his head through and began to lap thirstily at the water. The acolytes had replaced their various instruments with heavy lances now; they stood to one side of the assembled younger hunters in the second row, representing a united line of defence in front of the unarmed Mog-urs.

Twenty two hunters detached themselves from the main group of men and surrounded the bear's cage. Two hunters from each of the gathered clans had been chosen by their leaders to represent them in this first part of the ceremony, the opening of the cage.

Then, as if in a stately dance, the gathered Mog-urs of the eleven clans began the movements of the formal language in unison.

"Accept your water as a token of our gratitude, Oh Mighty Protector. Your Clan has not forgotten the lessons we learned from you. The caves of rock and mud are our homes, as are the caves of rock and ice to the north east where you shelter in your Winter Aspect. These homes protect us from the snow and cold of winter. We, too, rest quietly, nourished by the food of summer, warmed by furs. Hunting sometimes in the winter in small groups upon the ice, we ambush seal as you in your Winter Aspect have taught us to do. You have been one of us, lived with us, and you know we keep your ways.

'We venerate you first among all the Spirits. We beg you to speak for us in the world of the Spirits, to tell of the people of the sea and the land, of our resilience and determination and fecundity. We beseech you to make a place for us when we return to your embrace in the Spirit world, and beg for your protection from the Evil Ones. We are your People of the land and the sea, Great Ursus, Great Sea Bear, Great Cave Bear, we are your Clan. Go with all honour, Greatest of the Spirits."

As the Mog-urs made the symbols for the names of the great animal in his presence for the first time, the twenty-two young men thrust their spears between the stout trees of the cage, and many pierced the tremendous silvery bulk of the revered creature. Not all drew blood, but the pain enraged the bear. His angry roar shattered the silence, and the watching people jumped back with fear.

At the same time, Nakul, Toll and Brac raced to the door of the cage, scrambling up the sturdy trees to cut away the lashings at the top of the palisade. The pain-maddened bear was still on all fours; it bellowed in anger and loped towards the three men it could see at the top of the palisade. As he reached the men, one side of the enclosure fell away, to land with a crash on the gravel and sand.

The enclosure was now open, the monstrous angry bear was loose!

The people of the Clan now stood with a twin phalanx of armed men between them and their enraged god; and though many felt terror, felt the urge to run, the Clan held their place.

As the bear emerged from its enclosure, Nakul attempted to jump onto its back. However, the bear had resumed its stance on all fours, and Nakul missed in his attempt, landing instead on the rump of the bear, and unable to maintain a grip, slipped off. Feeling the interloper, Seal Slayer turned to deal with him, and Toll slipped in front of the turning animal and hit the great bear on the head with a rock he held, distracting its attention from Nakul before sprinting to the side.

Brac raced a short distance away, and as the snarling bear turned, it caught sight of the running Brac and lumbered after him. Together Toll and Brac darted in front, distracting the bear an instant before it could attack, allowing the other spear-wielding hunters a chance to close in.

A group of boys, not yet at the coveted hunter stage but too old to want to be seen cowering with their mothers, had crowded to the front of the audience, several paces behind the second line of hunters. Several held sticks, pretending they were holding lances as part of the defence. As the massive enraged bear loped around, trying to catch one or other of the hunters baiting it, roaring its frustration, these young boys decided en masse that the bear was just too big for them to want to tackle, and melted back to their mothers and families.

Durc found himself at the far edge of the phalanx of hunters, nearest the rock wall, when he saw movement. One of the young boys, drunk on bravado and peer pressure to join in the pretence of being an imagined "third line" of hunters, had attempted to rejoin his mother.

He had been desperately searching for her in the huddle of frightened people when the bear roared, it seemed right behind him. The terrified child had finally had too much to cope with and broke away from the main group, trying to run back to the imagined safety of the overhang.

The child was gasping and running as fast as he could, but it was away from both the unarmed audience and the armed hunters milling about. The hunters were attempting to get close enough to surround the bear while not being so close that a murderous swipe of its paws would be a danger. The lance blows and subsequent blood loss was weakening the bear, but not enough, and when it saw the child running it took off after him. It may not have wanted to attack the boy, it may just have seen the one gap in the phalanx of heavy lances and was trying to escape, but it was obvious that the boy was not going to be able to outrun the animal.

A woman screamed, and Durc saw Oda, mother of Ura, run to the edge of the crowd, holding one son tightly to her while she gesticulated wildly to her other son to come back, while Ura screamed a name repeatedly. Durc then recognised the little boy as Ura's younger brother.

Almost without conscious volition, Durc drove himself to his limit as he crossed the beach at an angle, trying to head off the bear before it could reach the running child.

He was the closest of the hunters to the child now, and his long legs came to his assistance as he ate up the distance between himself and the little boy.

.

As he closed on the bear he hefted his heavy lance and rammed it into the bear's rump. But instead of a mortal blow, the lance wounded the animal and made it more angry. It staggered, but then recovered and turned on Durc, knocking the blood-stained lance aside with a roar of fury.

Now it was Durc's turn to run for his life. The bear had been sufficiently distracted from the idea of freedom to chase him, but he was now unarmed, and the other hunters were approaching too slowly, they could never cross the distance in time. He took to his heels and headed for the only cover he could think off, the rough rock wall at his back, which was climbable.

As he sprang to the top of the first block of sea-worn and salt-rimed rock, he heard his name yelled. From his vantage he could see that Grev had snatched up the Mog-ur's ivory-pointed drawing staff from its place on the sand and when he saw Durc hesitate, he threw it as he and Durc had practiced for so long with their throwing spears. The staff, lighter than the lances, sailed through the air in a graceful arc and landed quivering a short arms-length away on the rocks.

Durc scrambled for it, the only weapon left to him, and turned just as the bear caught up. Terrified, Durc saw the creature's open mouth full of sharp yellow teeth, smelled its hot, rank breath on his face, and clutched the spear in front of him, its ivory point sharpened from drawing in the sand over the years. The bear's weight bore down on him and as Durc went backwards, his head struck the rock.

The world greyed to blackness, and therefore, Durc did not see the bear hesitate in its destructive rush, nor did he see the almost puzzled look that came into its eyes as its own momentum drove its body onto the ivory point, through its thick hide and chest muscle to pierce the heart.

The bear collapsed slowly, dead even as it landed on top of him, as the other hunters of the Clan came panting up with their heavy spears.

Durc did not see Toll, Brac and Nakul working desperately together to haul the dead weight of the bear off his body, nor was he aware of Uba sprinting up and beginning life-giving resuscitation to re-start the breathing of her adopted son…

…for Durc was dreaming, and far away, flying free through both time and space. A huge grey wolf lay injured on the ground by a small stream. It had many wounds, bite marks all over its body.

That's my totem, Durc thought dreamily, feeling neither doubt nor surprise about it, as he gazed at the graceful animal, now lying panting and hurt on the ground. I am in the spirit world…

And as he thought that, he was suddenly inside the head of the animal, looking out through its eyes and feeling its emotions, sharing its memories.

There had been a battle, with many teeth, as he had tried to save…who? For an instant another wolf wavered in his mind, and Durc thought, no, that's not right. It was Ura's little brother I saved…or…was my totem fighting Ursus for me?

He felt full of wonder at this sudden revelation. His totem, the Grey Wolf, had battled the most awesome and feared of all the spirits to save … him!

He tried to get to his feet, but the pain was too great, and he couldn't catch his breath. He wanted his mother! Mother, pack leader, hunting companion! He wanted his pack, his mother's mate, his friend the horse. Grev's human face flickered for an instant before changing to his memory of a dark brown, shaggy steppe horse…

Suddenly he heard a noise, moving through the screen of trees and bushes, and looked up as he heard a voice crying out, "No! Oh, no!"

And then his mother, his pack leader, was there, cradling his bleeding body. Durc tried to lick her face.

"It's Wolf! He's hurt!" Ayla said. The tears streaming down her face left white streaks through a muddy smudge on her cheek.

"What do you think happened to him?" His mother's yellow-haired mate appeared from the trees.

"I don't know, but we've got to help him," she said, sitting up.

Durc tried to get up too, but fell back.

But deep in his heart, he felt relief. He was only barely following the words that were said, but it didn't matter - his mother was here, the pack leader who would make it all right again. He wagged his tail, but even that hurt.

He tried to sign, found he had paws that didn't work like that. As he felt the dream begin to waver and shift, he used a word, only sub-consciously remembered from when he was a small child, before his mother had left. He didn't want her to leave him again.

"Mama!" he cried out.

A warm hand brushed his forehead and Durc opened his eyes to now-familiar mud walls. It was early evening, and the hearth fire of his family group was burning cheerily. Uba was looking at him with concern in her warm brown eyes.

"How do you feel, Durc?" she gestured.

Durc lifted one hand. "Like a tree landed on me," he gestured back weakly. "What happened, Uba?" Suddenly his eyes widened in alarm as memory flooded back. "The bear! Did it… am I injured?" He had a sudden fear that the bear may have mauled him badly.

Uba waved his concern away. "You have a nasty bump on your head, it happened when Ursus knocked you over and your head hit a rock. No, no, lie back, you are not badly injured! Ursus fell on top of you, your ribs were not broken but will be sore for a while. So I don't want you to exert yourself yet. Great Ursus has been sent to the spirit world with all honour. Not one hunter was hurt, apart from you.

'And Durc! You are credited with the kill! The drawing staff of the Mog-ur was able to do more than all the lances of the other Clan hunters!" Her eyes glowed with her pride in him.

Durc became aware of shadows moving behind Uba and as his eyes focused he realized that there were any number of other people present, sitting or standing silently about the cave entrance.

Uba looked at everybody, her stance respectful but still slightly reproving, with the confidence of a Medicine Woman who was treating her patient. "All right," she gestured, "You can all see for yourselves that my son lives! But I must insist, as Medicine Woman of Broud's clan, that you return to the Ceremonial Feast so that he can rest this evening. I'm sure he will have enough strength to talk to you all tomorrow."

With this promise, the crowd began to dissipate, and Uba, still sitting beside Durc protectively, reached for a wooden cup. "Here," she motioned, handing him the cup. "It is the blood of Ursus. Drink it all, it will give you strength."

He gulped it all down, and as he handed the cup back to Uba, saw that two men had not left the cave. Mog-ur was standing at the entrance beside Grev.

"Respected Medicine Woman," Goov said formally, "may my acolyte and I impose for a few moments with Durc? I promise that it will be quick."

Uba nodded, relenting. Moving to her bed place, she sat down beside the sleeping toddler Inga, but she did not lie down or close her eyes. It was obvious that she was not going to leave the area of the hearth while Durc was recovering, but she turned her face away subtly to allow the three men some privacy.

Grev moved quickly to Durc's side, eyes scanning his face. "Are you really uninjured, my brother?" he enquired worriedly.

Durc nodded his head reassuringly. "Uba says so. Apart from a throbbing headache and a few aches and pains I feel well. But," he added seriously, "I would be walking the spirit world now if it hadn't been for you tossing me that spear. I could never have hoped to out-climb Great Ursus…"

"No other spear would have had any hope of reaching you in time," Grev answered solemnly. "But the drawing staff was about the same size and weight as the spears we have always practised on, I knew I could throw it far enough. I hoped that it would fly to your hand. I am sorry I could not have been beside you when you needed me."

Now Goov knelt beside the pair. He was holding something, which he extended to Durc. It was the Mog-ur's spear, still stained a rusty red with the dried blood of their god.

"Mov, Mog-ur of Jorg's clan, asked me to give this to you," Goov motioned. "He said it now rightly belongs to you, since it helped you to send Great Ursus to the spirit world."

Durc took the proferred spear, touching one fingertip to the bloodied point reverently. He looked back up at Mog-ur.

"Mov told me that it can never be used as a mere drawing staff ever again," Goov said. "It would be disrespectful to the staff's spirit to do so. It is now a powerfully magic object."

Durc laid it beside him. "I wish it were small enough to put into my amulet," he said. "I feel as if it were a sign from my totem." As he said that, the memory of his dream returned to him. "Mog-ur," he said, "I … I think my totem fought for me. I had a vision. I saw… I was? … a huge grey wolf, the biggest I've ever seen. It … I was wounded, and I saw my mother in the spirit world come to me. Not Uba. I mean my mother Ayla."

Mog-ur stared at him. "I will need to meditate on this – I feel there is great meaning in a dream like that and would ask for more detail once you are healed," he said. "But I will say that your totem must be determined indeed to attempt to fight Great Ursus. Usually once Ursus has been impressed enough by a hunter that he wishes to take him, very little can deter him. Perhaps he was testing you, through your totem."

"It would have been an honour to join Ursus," Durc motioned slowly, "But I am glad that my totem wished me to stay here. Perhaps I am not ready for such an honour yet."

"The honour will be yours for as long as you live," Mog-ur answered. "You are one of the select few who can now claim two totems – your own Grey Wolf totem and Great Ursus! Tomorrow I will present you with one of the teeth of Ursus to put in your amulet. You will have great protection throughout your life, with two such strong guardians watching over you."

As Mog-ur stood preparatory to leaving, Grev suddenly said, "Oh! I spoke to both Ura and Kalli before I came here. Ura wishes me to tell you that her little sibling is well, although he was badly frightened and has been told in no uncertain terms that what he did could have been disastrous. She says that she now owes you her sibling's life and will never be able to repay you. She was quite upset about that. She wanted to be here but she is helping her mother, who was so shocked by what nearly happened to her child that she is unable to leave his side, even though he is quite unharmed physically."

Durc nodded. "Tell her not to concern herself," he gestured. "I do not think Ursus really wanted to take a little child with him to the spirit world; if he had, nothing I did could have stopped him. I think it was a test to see if I was worthy to go." He glanced at Goov a little guiltily. "Not that this man knows anything of the ways of the spirits," he added formally, with a deprecating gesture.

"I think you have as much right to give an opinion as a Mog-ur," Goov answered gravely, "considering how close you came to leaving this world." He turned to go.

Grev also stood up to follow but before he left he pressed something into Durc's hand. "Kalli sent you this," he gestured quickly. "She said it was something she traded six strings of shell beads to Gragen for, and she wanted you to have it. She said you should wear it around your neck and if ever you decide to put yourself in such mortal danger again, it will remind you of her and maybe deter you!"

As Grev left Durc opened his fingers and looked at the object on his palm. It was an intricately-carved ivory fishhook. It gave him a warm feeling inside to see it and he smiled.

"Uba?" he said softly, so as not to wake the sleeping toddler beside the medicine woman.

Uba looked up quickly. "What is it, Durc? Are you in pain?"

"No. But would you find me a leather thong, please?" With his mother, adopted or not, and particularly since she was Medicine Woman, it was wise for a son to ask politely. He held up the fishhook in explanation. "I have something I wish to wear about my neck."

Durc was rather overwhelmed by all of the attention his escapade at the Bear Ceremony had accrued for him over the next few days. Many people visited him, and many left him small gifts or tokens so that quite a pile had accumulated along with the Drawing Staff beside his bed fur by the time Uba allowed him to get up and walk about again. Uba wrapped the lot into a leather package that he would be able to carry back with him when they left for their Cave.

However, of the two tokens that Durc was proudest of, one was worn about his throat hanging from a leather thong beside his amulet. He had thought of putting the fish hook inside his amulet, but felt it was better to display it proudly, as did the Sea Kin people. The other he carried with him, the Drawing Staff that had sent Mighty Ursus to the spirit world. Durc was unsure how much of the attention belonged to him alone and how much was due to the new reverence for the holy object. Everybody he saw wanted to touch the blood-stained ivory point at least once. And although Durc was cognizant of the honour of owning such an object, over the next few days he carried it because it was of practical assistance to him. He had badly twisted one ankle in his desperate run, and the pain of walking was eased by leaning on the staff as his leg healed.

His amulet was heavier now, as well. A huge incisor from Ursus had been given to him with due solemnity by the Mog-urs in a ceremony before all of the clans at the Gathering. Vorn had helped him from his bed, and leant his shoulder as a crutch, seating Durc on a log at the front of the mud cave, while everybody gathered around respectfully to watch the honour.

Durc had not felt any great surprise that Broud had absented himself from that ceremony, leaving his Second, Vorn, as his representative. What did surprise Durc somewhat was how little he cared for the Leader's rude absence. And how warmed he felt when he saw the glow of undeniable pride in the eyes of Vorn.

The huge white hide of Ursus, with head still attached, had been cleaned and was now stretched out on the wall of the Spirit Cave, watching over all of his Clan in these last few days before leave-taking. That too would be travelling back with them to their cave.

11

Although the rankings of each separate clan had now been determined and the Bear Ceremony was officially over, there remained one more event that the Leaders, in particular, were anticipating. All of the Leaders present, along with their Seconds, were to go on a major land hunt, a Pachee hunt.

Any of the big birds caught would be kept by the hosting clan as a thank you for the use of their land during the summer. The meat thus provided would make a difference in the loss of hunting the host clan had suffered while the Ceremony lasted. The Leaders and Seconds made for a formidable group of hunters in their prime, and each clan was hoping for at least one bird credited as their kill. It was a matter of pride as much as a thank you, once again a subtle vying for status.

Several Medicine Women were also going in case of injury, Uba amongst them, and the Mog-ur of the Host clan would be there to see to the spiritual protection of the group.

However, for the most part, the other hunters were not required, and in fact too many would be a hindrance. The Pachee could easily be spooked if they saw too many humans following. Once a flock of Pachee were sighted, the humans would make camp a safe distance away and then small groups of three or four, with bolas and spears, would set out to get behind the flock. When all were ready, the birds were driven in the direction of the ambush.

So the majority of the hunters stayed behind and relaxed as the Leaders and Seconds got ready to depart overland.

Durc had just come back to the cave after a walk outside to strengthen his injured ankle. It felt much better and he was considering leaving the Spear behind next time he ventured out.

Uba was busily checking her medicine bag as he sat down at the hearth.

"I saw Vorn practising with his bola with the Leaders and Seconds," he commented to her. "What a pity Brun won't be going along – the bola is his best weapon. I'm sure he'd get a Pachee."

"I just hope Vorn will be alright," Uba answered. "Those big birds scared me when we saw them on our way here. I know Mog-ur said they are of this world, but I can't help feeling that there is something unnatural about birds as tall as that."

"I wish I were going too," Durc said. "I've been talking to Nakul. I thought maybe my method of throwing a light spear might work, but Nakul said that the Pachee have thick overlapping feathers. He wasn't sure if a light spear would be effective. But I'd like to try."

"Well, you couldn't go on this hunt, it is only for the Leaders and Seconds," Uba reminded him.

"Yes," Durc answered. But he thought to himself, with a private smile, that perhaps in a few years, once Broud stepped down as Leader, the Clan with Brac at its head may come back this way. Then he could join the hunt for Pachee as Brac's Second. It was a dream worth waiting for.

The cave entrance darkened slightly as Kalli slipped inside. She waved a brief greeting to Durc, but looked distracted, and her expression when she saw Uba changed to one of relief.

"Uba!" she said, then sat politely beside her and continued, "Respected Medicine Woman of Broud's Clan, could I ask you to come with me to attend my sister Zeena? Her labour has begun. It is early and we are worried for her."

Uba looked surprised, but nodded. "Did you not call on your own clan's Medicine Woman, Kalli?"

"Toll went to get her, but Siya is old now and her sight is not as good as it was. She has asked that you could attend as well, just in case."

"Of course I will come. But the girl Siya has been training had promise, I thought. Could she attend?"

"She is treating a child with fever and would prefer not to leave him yet."

Uba stood up. "I'm happy to help. However, Zeena told me that all her pregnancies before this have been easy deliveries. I don't expect there will be any problems." She beckoned to her toddler daughter who was sitting next to Durc. "Inga, come."

Durc got awkwardly to his feet. "I will take her, Uba. That's one of the reasons I came back – the older women are about to start telling some stories for the youngsters, and I thought Inga might like to see it."

"That would be nice, Durc. Inga, go with your sibling and mind you do what he tells you."

The little girl nodded gravely and took Durc's hand.

They all left the cave, and Uba and Kalli went in one direction while Durc and Inga turned and headed for a patch of beaten earth surrounded by grass where people and children were gathering. An older lady was standing in the centre, waiting for the last few stragglers to the story-telling to sit.

Durc spotted Igra in the group and walked over to her. He could not yet sit comfortably cross-legged, needing to stretch his injured leg out in front of him, so placed Inga beside him on the grass. Brac's mate was fond of little Inga and the child immediately climbed onto her lap happily, receiving a warm cuddle in return.

"Uba has been called to Zeena," Durc explained quickly to Igra. "And I thought Inga might like to see the story telling. She can follow story lines quite well now."

The woman in the centre of the expectant group, apparently satisfied that everybody was settled and watching, began to tell a story in dramatic pantomime.

"The Spirit of Light Dry Snow took the Spirit of Granular Snow as his mate and after a time she gave birth to a Mountain of Ice far to the north…"

Inga looked at Durc excitedly. "You story!" she gestured, then settled back down to watch the well-known legend.

Durc nodded, settling in to watch. He knew the story well, and Uba had told him that it had been his mother's favourite. He wondered what had happened to the original Durc in the story. Privately, he liked to think that Durc and his followers had gone not east, but west. He liked to think they may have founded one of the coastal clans, maybe even the clan that was now Jorg's, that led to the eventual formation of the Sea Kin.

As the story ended, Oga jumped up from her spot and moved to the centre of the group, before anybody else could claim the story teller's place.

"I have a story," she signed. "It is a story that is very special to me personally. This story is not one shrouded in the mist of time. It is one that occurred in my clan, and that is still within the memory of living people, men and women. All but the youngest in my clan know of this story, because they lived through it."

The watchers leaned forward, their interest piqued. A new story?

But although Durc was watching just as intently, he already knew what the story was. Zoug's recounting had been hard-wired into the brains of everybody in Broud's clan, and now Oga – Oga! Broud's mate! - was about to ensure that the other clans also knew of it. The story of Ayla and Brac.

Oga took a deep breath, revealing her nervousness, but then plunged on, motion for motion perfect with Zoug's first retelling. "The Spirit of Cave Hyena hated the Spirit of Wolverine…"

Durc could not watch. The sudden sharp stab of grief for Zoug was tinged also with his more long-standing grief for Ayla. Maybe in the fullness of time he would be able to watch with equanimity, but not now. Quickly, he signed to Igra, "Would you mind taking Inga to Uba when the story-telling is finished? I …um…have something that I need to do."

Igra nodded assent, before turning her attention back to the story. She had been told of it but not seen it enacted before, it having occurred during her mating isolation. Durc clumsily got to his feet, then surreptitiously slipped away from the group, who didn't notice his exit, so entranced were they by the new story…

Durc left the circle of the story-tellers and headed for the wooded region behind the clan settlement. He began to calm as he walked, the turmoil in his mind quieting. The late summer day was pleasantly warm and the shade from the trees felt soothing, a light warm breeze ruffling his hair and cooling his hot forehead. Bird song echoed cheerily, and insects buzzed. A dragon fly landed on a long stalk of grass, swaying in the slight breeze, the sunlight flashing rainbow colours from its wings.

He leant at a stream to dip a drink of water from his cupped hand and saw a human footprint in the mud of the bank, showing that somebody with bare feet had been this way recently. Recently enough that the footprint was still clearly-etched despite the tinkling water of the stream beginning to crumble it away. But it was still clear to see, the shape so familiar because it was a print that Durc knew as well as he knew his own. Grev had been this way in the past few minutes.

Durc felt an overwhelming sense of relief. His friend was just the company he needed now. Perhaps they could do something normal and familiar, maybe do some hunting (and here his leg twinged, reminding him that probably wasn't a practical idea), but maybe they could just laze about together talking. It would take his mind off the grief he was feeling for his old mentor, and Grev would understand.

Durc was a good tracker, certainly not as experienced as some of the men, but he could follow the trail of bent grass and occasional footprints left by his friend and began to follow. It appeared that Grev was walking with somebody else - there were parallel tracks of another unfamiliar person beside his. They did not meander or cross over, but were, to a tracker's eye, unambiguously two people walking side by side.

After a few moments, Durc caught sight of Grev in a small clearing in the forest up ahead. He was standing, face to face and deep in gestured conversation with Ura. Ura had a woven carry basket sitting on the ground beside her feet. A digging stick lay beside it, but the basket appeared to be empty.

Durc grinned and was about to step out from behind some screening bushes with the idea of surprising them, when he stopped. For something about the postures and body language of the pair suggested that they were unhappy about something. And not just disturbed, but deeply, wretchedly unhappy, in some sort of shared moment that they were discussing.

Intrigued, Durc stopped moving and watched their conversation. It made him feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, as if this was a shared private conversation, and the Clan stricture against watching conversations between others was strong, ingrained after a lifetime. However, this was not a conversation held inside another's hearthstones, so could not be said to be entirely private.

And especially not when Durc heard his name mentioned. He froze, watching intently.

"Durc is my brother," Grev was saying. "I would sooner cut off my own head than hurt him…"

Ura was gazing at Grev beseechingly. "I also am … fond of him. He has been kind to me and he saved my little sibling's life. Oh Grev, we should not speak of this. Durc is to be my mate..."

Grev's expression was equally miserable. "I know. But it is so difficult for me, not to let him see how I feel. It is not… usual… in my clan, for a man to let it be known publicly that he feels such affection for a woman. We do not speak of it. But to have deep feelings for your own mate is one thing, to yearn so strongly for another man's mate is against all Custom. I feel as if I am betraying Durc by not mentioning my feelings about you, Ura. Yet how can I hurt him by telling him?"

Ura nodded. "In my clan also, it is not usual. Although I do believe that most men and most women do come to feel deeply about their mates. But we can never be mated, Grev. Firstly, there is the Mother's Promise to consider. But perhaps more importantly, would your leader, the man of your hearth, accept me if it were not for that Promise?"

Grev shook his head sadly. "No. He has let it be known that nobody he thinks of as deformed will ever be let live if they are within his clan. Last year one of the women gave birth to a son, he had three of his fingers in the left hand fused together in a webbing of skin. The woman's mate, Droog, begged the leader to let the child live, he spoke for him and said that he did not think the deformity would stop him from hunting or being a productive hunter for the Clan. And the Medicine Woman was consulted, she said she thought that with exercises the skin between the fingers could be stretched as he got older and eventually cut, to free the fingers. He was otherwise healthy. But Broud refused to allow it, and the child was exposed to the elements to die. But Ura," and here Grev took her hands quickly for a second before resuming, "to me you are not deformed, any more than Durc is! You both are Ura and Durc. That is how you look, and if you look a little differently from the rest of Broud's clan, how much more difference is there between Broud's clan and the Sea Kin? Yet he accepts that they are Clan."

Ura looked down for a moment, then back up at his face. "Grev, my heart aches to think of this! What will happen to any children I have once I am mated to Durc and living in Broud's clan? If they look like me, or if they look like Durc when I swallow his spirit, will all of my children have to be exposed and left to die? Will Broud cast them out? I would sooner die myself than have to give up all my babies because Broud thinks they are deformed!"

Grev nodded gravely. "I have been thinking deeply about this lately. It has not been easy for Durc, growing up with Broud as leader. Durc is brave and a good hunter, but Broud refuses to see that. I have spoken about this to my older brother Brac. He suggested the best thing you could do would be to mate Durc but then both of you could join Norg's clan and return to the east with them. Norg, and particularly Berg, the son of Norg's mate, seem to more accepting than Broud of people with different abilities and appearance. Berg himself is mated to a woman of the Sea Kin. I am sure they would find my brother a worthy hunter and addition to their clan."

Ura buried her face in her hands abjectly for a moment. When she took them away to resume the gestured conversation, Durc could see that her eyes were wet with tears.

"But that means I will never see you again, Grev! I can bear it if I know that I will see you every day in Broud's clan. But I can't stay in that clan if my babies are all to be taken from me. I have tried so hard to be obedient, I have done everything my mother told me I must do, to have a mate and to have…children…" The last ended on a gulped sob, and then Ura was in Grev's arms, with him patting her back in awkward consolation.

Durc's mind had been racing while he watched their conversation. It had been a revelation to him that Grev and Ura cared for each other so deeply, but he could not dispute the observation that it was common, although certainly not stated openly, that men and women could love each other. He himself had observed the love that Uba and Vorn had for each other. Vorn was not given to outspoken bursts of passion any more than Uba was, but all in their Clan had seen how concerned he had been for his mate when she was pregnant after two previous miscarriages, and he had been overjoyed when Uba had successfully given birth to her healthy daughter. Some of Broud's cronies had even grumbled that it was not the done thing for a man to be so happy when his mate had given birth to a daughter rather than a son. But living at their hearth had allowed Durc to see the closeness between the couple that was not publicly displayed.

But Durc had never even thought about what would happen, after he was mated to Ura, what the fate of her children would be. He was appalled at his lack of foresight, knowing exactly what Broud's reaction would be. As Grev had suggested, perhaps it would be for the best if he continued east with Norg's clan. But that would mean that the promised status of one day being Second under Brac's leadership would never happen.

And, there was a small dismayed part of himself that realized to travel so far to the east would put him, perhaps forever, out of range of the fascinating Sea Kin. Unconsciously, his fist closed about the small carved bone fish hook hanging from his neck. He would never see Kalli again…

Plus he didn't want Grev to be hurt. Durc felt the same about Grev as Grev did for him – they were brothers, more than just hunting partners where every man in the clan was considered as brother to the other.

This whole situation was a dismal prospect – Durc did not particularly want to mate Ura, although he had no objection to her, and felt how unfair it was that Grev loved her so much but could never have her as his mate.

But when this thought occurred to him, he thought to himself, "Well, why not? If Broud is the problem why cannot Grev mate Ura and then they both join Norg's clan? The Mog-ur there is quite young and has not yet begun to train an acolyte. My brother would be warmly welcomed, with so much training already."

Durc felt a strong pang at this, he would miss Grev sorely, but he suppressed it. It was for the best, after all. Ura could have her babies, Grev would not lose his position as future Mog-ur, it was the best for all concerned. Ah, that just left the Mother's Promise. Durc stepped out from behind the screening bushes into the clearing.

For a moment the tableau held: Grev with his arms about Ura, hugging her and comforting her as if they were in the privacy of their own hearth. Both of them started at Durc's sudden appearance.

Durc held all expression off his face as he approached them. "Were either of you going to tell me about this, seeing as I am, at least in a small way, concerned in it?" he motioned.

Ura walked to him hesitantly, her head bowed, and crumpled abjectly to the ground at his feet. When Durc tapped her shoulder, she looked up, pleading in her eyes. "Durc, please do not think badly of us! Or at least, do not let this ruin your relationship with Grev. We neither of us meant for it to happen. I promise I will try to be a good mate for you, if you will still have me…"

She trailed off, and Grev was about to speak, no doubt in defence of Ura, but Durc held up his hand. His leg was paining him but he would not speak of such a thing at the moment. Instead he pointed with his staff at some fallen trees which had probably caused this clearing in the first place. "Let us sit over here," he suggested. "I wish to discuss this further."

Suiting action to fit word he stumped across and gratefully lowered himself on to one of the trunks. Grev and Ura hesitated for a moment before joining him, facing him on the other logs.

"There is nothing to discuss, my brother," Grev began. "Nothing has fundamentally changed, you are still to mate with Ura…"

"You are wrong, Grev," Durc interrupted. "Everything has changed. Excuse my discourtesy," he added. "I should not have watched your conversation. But now that I have seen it, I realise to my chagrin that I had never considered how Broud would react to any children Ura would have. Unless they looked exactly like Clan babies." He gestured to himself. "And as I, and Ura, and in fact all of the Sea Kin can attest to, once the spirits of Clan and Others decide to mix, there is an undeniable difference to how the babies look. Of course, Broud would order them to be exposed."

Ura wiped the back of one hand on her face to brush away the tears that had begun to flow again.

"And," Durc continued, "how could I be happy knowing that my mating Ura would make you both so unhappy? Don't you know how deeply I care about the both of you? Seeing each other is hardly the same as being mated to each other in a committed relationship. As I watched you discussing this matter, my own mind was busy on the problem as well. I feel I may have a solution that would satisfy everybody."

He gazed at Ura's eyes, wet with tears. "I know you will be a good and dutiful mate, Ura. I can see that you are a model Clan woman who would make any man proud of you. Yet you are in an impossible situation." Now Durc gazed at Grev. "And Grev, you deserve a mate who will be supportive and care truly for you, as you do for her." Now his gaze fixed on the pair of them. "I am willing to stand aside so that you may mate. And although it will break my heart, I will also recommend, Grev, that you be the one who accompanies Ura back with Norg's clan. I am sure they will be happy to have a strong hunter and future Mog-ur with them, especially one who was trained by Goov."

Grev and Ura stared at Durc in shock. Whatever they had been expecting, be it recriminations or outrage, it had not occurred and for a moment they could not take it in. Then, slowly, the possibility dawned on them.

"We could … we could mate?" Ura said softly, hardly daring to believe. "But, but what about the Mother's Promise?"

Durc nodded. He felt he had a solution for that, as well, one that would satisfy Custom. "I am my mother's heir," he said solemnly. "Any promise she made on my behalf, I can do with as I see fit. And I am content to let the Mother's Promise be broken. After all, Ura, you will still have a mate, albeit not me! Of course, your mother would have to agree, I have no power over that. Do you think she would object?" He asked this perfectly seriously, although he already guessed the answer – Ura's mother would think that the huge jump in status if her daughter mated a future Mog-ur would quite recompense the loss of a strange-looking young hunter with no especial attributes, particularly one whom the leader did not like or value.

"Oh," Ura breathed, her eyes widening as if she could read his mind. "No, my mother…would not object, I think," she motioned. "But…can you break your mother's Promise, just like that? I have never heard of a Mother's Promise ever being broken except by the mothers involved."

Durc felt that a small demonstration, a little ceremony, might aid both Grev and Ura in taking the final step and accepting that they could really be mated. After all, it was common amongst the Clan for one to speak to their totem spirits in private, and Durc had no memories against what he wanted to do, essentially gesturing his thoughts so that Grev and Ura might see them.

He stood slowly, less from a sense of dignity and more for the fact that his leg had stiffened up after sitting. He raised his hands. Both Grev and Ura, sensing the solemnity of the occasion, also stood up, side by side, wide-eyed, staring at him expectantly.

Durc stood silently for a few seconds, ordering his thoughts, then, with great solemnity, he motioned, not to Grev and Ura, but to the air itself, as he had seen Mog-ur do many times before in ceremony, silently calling on their totems, the spirit of Grey Wolf, the spirit of Horse, and the spirit of Raven, to attend them. He did not call upon Great Ursus, fearing that presumption might be going too far, but felt he was on sure ground in calling upon their totems alone to bear witness. When he had finished, he addressed himself again to his human audience.

"The Clan Gathering before this one was hosted by Norg's clan," he gestured formally. "At that Gathering, my mother Ayla, Medicine Woman of Brun's clan, met with Oda, woman of Norg's clan and mother of Ura. They entered into a Mother's Promise that myself and Ura would mate at the next Clan Gathering, provided we were both old enough. If either one of us was not yet adult, it was stipulated that Ura would travel back with Brun's clan and we would mate when we both reached our adulthood.

"However, circumstances have changed," he continued. "Brun's clan is now Broud's clan. Ayla has passed on to the Spirit World. I am not yet an adult, although I have attained the status of a man, one has only to look at my face to see I do not yet have a beard or the physical robustness of an adult. And Grev and Ura, both adults, wish to be mated despite all the difficulties ranged against them." He paused again, then addressed Grev.

"Grev, will you protect Ura against Broud himself if need be, will you join with Norg's clan if there is no alternative, and will you speak for her children and care for them as the children of your hearth, even if they resemble her more than they do Clan?"

Grev nodded, equally seriously. "I will."

Durc then turned to Ura. Usually a woman was not asked for her preference, but Durc wanted to be absolutely sure that this small private ceremony breaking the Mother's Promise would satisfy all concerned before their actual mating.

"Ura, will you care for Grev, anticipate his needs, and keep his hearth comfortable? Will you see to his food and clothing and relieve him of his physical needs?"

Ura nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with surprise and pleasure that her opinion was sought. "I will."

"Then I say, as Durc son of Ayla, that the Mother's Promise is hereby broken." He chopped one hand across, signifying the deed as done. "May our totems with the aid of Great Ursus protect us and watch over us and bless your mating."

Grev and Ura turned to each other, wondering delight on their faces. Grev laid one hand gently on Ura's cheek and she turned her face into it, holding the palm against her face lovingly.

Durc could see from their reactions to each other that his presence was no longer needed or required, and indeed Grev was showing evidence of wanting one particular physical need relieved by Ura soon.

Durc coughed to get their attention, then said, "I will go now to inform Mog-ur of this, so that he may perform the mating ceremony as soon as he is able. Oh, and I will inform your mother, Ura, that you have been released from the Mother's Promise. I feel sure she will agree that it is for the best…"

But the young couple were no longer paying him much attention, and Durc smiled a little wistfully, grasped the staff and walked away, leaving them to enjoy each other.

"What you suggest, Durc, is impossible! Surely you must see that."

Durc stared at Mog-ur in disbelief. He had just come from telling Oda about the new situation and she had agreed, with transparent happiness, to break her part of the Mother's Promise. She could not hide her glee that her daughter would make such a good match, mating a future Mog-ur, and the status that would bring to both Ura and any children she had. Durc could see that it had not occurred to Oda, as it had not to him, that there would be any trouble in a clan accepting Ura's children, so he did not mention it. He still hoped that Broud would be reasonable and accept the mating of the second son of his mate, once he saw that there was no alternative.

As a result, Durc had been feeling rather proud of himself as he went to find Mog-ur for a private word. They had returned to their empty mud cave and seated themselves at Vorn's hearth. When Durc related the events of the afternoon, however, he was dismayed to see that Goov appeared more worried than pleased.

"What is impossible, Mog-ur? That I have renounced the Mother's Promise? Or that Grev and Ura wish to mate?" Durc asked it uncertainly, not sure what the problem was.

Mog-ur stared at Durc for a moment, gauging his body language. Seeing that it was an honest query with no sarcasm involved, he gestured irritably. "You have put me into an impossible position, young man. I had to use every custom and memory I could find to make Broud accept you and Ura mating. I don't think you realize just how hard it was to get him to concede the point. Do you think I can just walk up to Broud now and say, 'That mating that I was so insistent had to go ahead because of the Mother's Promise? It is now no longer required. Oh, and by the way, you will still have to accept Ura as a woman of your clan because my acolyte wishes to have her as his mate.' He will never agree to it, Durc."

Durc shook his head. "But Mog-ur, the leaders and their seconds are going on an extended hunt tomorrow at dawn. Once they've gone, you can then mate Grev and Ura. Or the Mog-ur of Norg's clan could do it, if you'd rather not. And then, once Broud gets back, it will be done and Grev and Ura will be in mating isolation. What can he do?"

Mog-ur threw up his hands in exasperation, pacing back and forth before gesturing, "What can Broud do? Broud, the leader of our clan? He can dissolve the mating, that's what he can do! The leader of any clan has that prerogative, Durc! He can force both Grev and Ura out of the clan, even have them cursed with Death! He cursed your mother with Death on a pretext! He refused to accept Aga's last child for a small deformity that Uba was sure could be healed, forcing Aga to expose her baby! He argues with me over every tiny detail, things that custom and memory are perfectly clear on! With Broud, it is as if I am walking on sharp flint chips strewn about, with no shoes to protect my feet, never sure if the next step will take me forward or slice my feet open!"

Durc watched wide-eyed. He had never seen Mog-ur, calm, steady Goov, so worked up before. Mog-urs were respected members of their clans, high-status individuals who interceded with the spirit world, that shadowy realm that even leaders trembled before. And this Mog-ur had been trained by the First of them all, the very best. But Goov was getting no respect from Broud, who cut him out of all decisions whenever he could. Everything was now an argument, and Durc could see that Mog-ur was fed up with it.

Durc lifted his hands placatingly. "Grev discussed this matter with Brac, as future leader," he said. "It was Brac's suggestion that…Ura's new mate could join her in Norg's clan, if Broud really refuses to accept them…"

"Oh, he will refuse them, Durc. Make no mistake about that." Mog-ur's body language was grim. "However…" he continued slowly, thinking in gestures "…if they are mated as soon as possible, they could start their isolation by returning to our cave ahead of our clan. It may be a handful of days before we are due to leave, depending on the Hunt. If they were to be mated tomorrow, after the leaders leave for the Hunt...they would get back ahead of us. And from there travel on to Norg's Cave. Oh, but it is such a long way from here to the cave of Norg's clan, for one young man and woman to make alone…" He stopped and his eyes fell on Durc.

"I could go with them," Durc suggested, guessing what he was thinking. "We could have an arrangement whereby we share a fire at night but I would respect their isolation during the day and travel several steps ahead of them! Like we did with Brac and Igra on our way here. And maybe I could persuade one of the other men to come as well. I'm sure Brac would offer. That would make five of us, with Igra."

Mog-ur stared at Durc. "Ye-es," he conceded. "Yes, it might be a good idea if you are out of Broud's path for a time. He's sure to blame you, even though it is not your fault."

Then Mog-ur heaved a resigned sigh. "But Durc, this is going to cost me a good acolyte, one I put a lot of time and effort into training! However," he resumed, "all that is by the by. I will still have to observe the Customs and go and tell Broud that you and Ura are no longer to be mated while we are here at the Gathering. I will avoid mentioning that Grev is to mate her instead, but Broud as leader must be told of this."

Durc stared. "Must he really, Mog-ur? It would be easier not to tell him anything until it is done."

Mog-ur shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. Custom must be observed. When a man decides for whatever reason that his future mate is unsuitable, the leader must know of it. I do not have to mention that it is because she will be mating the second son of Broud's mate, instead. I think that Broud will be satisfied that the mating will not go ahead. I hope he does not question me for any more detail than that, or I will of course have to tell him everything."

Durc nodded. He was beginning to come down from the excitement of the idea; his leg ached abominably and he was trying not to think about how lonely the cave of Broud's clan would be, once his best friend was living with Norg's clan, far to the east.

Mog-ur glanced at his face. He put one hand on the lad's shoulder. "I believe you were led to your actions by the best of intentions," he conceded quietly. "If Broud does ask for more detail, and forbids the mating, I can see no other option than for Grev and Ura to go to Norg and ask if he will accept Grev as part of his clan. They can be mated at Norg's cave. But if Broud orders me to curse Grev with death," and here Mog-ur held up one hand, forestalling Durc, "not that I think he will, but the possibility must be considered, then I will have to obey him, despite my personal feelings in the matter. It is best that Broud doesn't question why the mating will not go ahead."

Durc tried to agree with him. But it was a hard bite to swallow. He felt suddenly very weary. The women would soon be gathering in the cave to make the evening meal, but he did not feel in the least hungry.

Mog-ur read his dejection in his body language. "I am no Medicine Woman, Durc, but I would advise you to lie down and try to rest. I will speak to Broud and let him know that the mating is no longer required. I am going now."

At the entrance to the cave, he turned back for a last word. "And who knows, maybe this is what Ursus wills. The ways of the Spirit World are ineffable to mere humans. Even to Mog-urs!"

Mog-ur found Broud deep in conversation with Vorn. The leaders and their Seconds were all grouped about the firepit, drinking tea while they discussed which weapons would be best to take with them on the hunt, and which to leave behind as unsuitable for Pachee.

"Excuse the interruption, Broud. May I have a private word with you?"

Broud looked up from the discussion with annoyance. "What's so important that I need to leave, Goov? Can't you just tell me here?"

Mog-ur swallowed his irritation; the use of his personal name was allowed within his Cave, or by family members. But in front of all the leaders and their seconds from other Caves it was a subtle insult not to acknowledge his position.

"Very well, I will tell you here, Broud," he motioned. "It's about the mating between Durc and Ura. I need to tell you…"

Broud interrupted with an impatient look on his face. "I don't want to talk about that misbegotten man and his deformed mate-to-be," he said with decisive gestures.

Mog-ur saw Vorn, sitting next to Broud, frown at the derisive comment about the young man of his hearth, and Norg and his second both glared angrily at Broud for speaking about the young woman of their Cave in that dismissive manner.

"But Broud, I have some new information that needs to be discussed with you," Mog-ur tried again.

Broud was rapidly losing patience. "Goov, I said I don't want to hear it! Surely you've performed enough mating ceremonies to be able to arrange this one! Why do you continually pester the leader about details? Manage it yourself, I am too busy to be bothered with it!"

Mog-ur took a deep breath. "Do I understand that you wish me to go ahead with the mating as I see fit?" he asked quietly.

"Yes! Finally, do what you will! In fact, I wish you not to talk about it to me again. Now do go away, and let me get back to my important discussion."

Mog-ur nodded acquiesance. "Very well, Broud. You are the leader and that is your decision. I will not mention this matter of mating in your presence again."

Broud turned back to the others, pointedly turning his back on his Mog-ur.

Mog-ur gathered his dignity, but as he went to withdraw from the group around the firepit he caught the eye of Brun, who was sitting quietly with Droog and several of the older hunters on the other side of the firepit. They had all borne witness to the exchange. Meeting Mog-ur's gaze, Brun nodded slowly to him, almost as if he could read his thoughts, before turning back to his discussion. Mog-ur had the unmistakeable feeling that Brun was encouraging Mog-ur to do whatever he felt was best.

Mog-ur withdrew from the group expressionlessly. But within, he was well pleased. The leader wished him to arrange everything and not speak to him about it? That suited Mog-ur perfectly.

He strode away from the group and went to find Brac, Grev and Durc to discuss their arrangements for the following day. Mog-ur had decided that the ceremony would be held just as soon as the Pachee hunters were well away from the settlement…

12

The leaders of the various clans and their Seconds had disappeared into the shimmering haze heading north as Brac and Durc gathered up the people from both their own clan and Norg's to attend. They did not say what was intended, only that there was to be a ceremony for those two clans. The young men's body language communicated excitement and people from other clans as well gathered to see what was about to happen.

The Mog-ur of Broud's clan and the Mog-ur of Norg's clan stood in front of the firepit. When everybody had gathered and were watching, the two holy men raised their arms in the silent formal language of the spirits, calling them to attend. The Mog-ur of Norg's clan held the bowl of yellow ochre, and hands flashed in the audience as people realized the significance of the paste's colour. This was to be a mating ceremony! But, Grev was standing in front of the Mog-urs, why was he not acting as acolyte? And the only ones due to mate were Ura and Durc. But Durc was still in the crowd, watching proudly.

The crowd parted as Cron brought forth the daughter of his mate. Oda was beaming happily as she watched her daughter make a match she could never have dreamed of. Ura was dressed in a fresh new wrap, and she watched her feet carefully as she walked forward closely behind Cron. But her demurely lowered face could not obscure the happiness she was feeling. She sat down cross-legged in front of Grev, keeping her eyes down.

The audience was in an uproar of flashing hand signals and murmured words, craning forward to try to work out what was going on. Goov stepped forward with hands raised for attention, and every eye fixed on the Mog-ur of Broud's clan.

"We have gathered today to bear witness to the mating of Grev and Ura," Mog-ur stated, and then had to wait until the fresh spate of surprise had died down. Usually this sort of statement was not required, as matings were expected and proceeded sedately, there was never any question of who was mating whom. But this one, he felt, required more explanation so that there could be no mistake. He also was under no illusions as to Broud's reaction once he arrived back from the Pachee hunt, but on this he was steadfast – Broud had ordered him not speak of it and to arrange it as he saw fit. And that was what he was doing. Custom was satisfied.

He turned to the Mog-ur holding the bowl of yellow ochre and dipped his middle finger into it. Carefully he drew the sign of Ura's raven totem over the scar of Grev's horse totem, symbolising the union of the spirits. Another fingerful of ochre, and he painted the totem of a horse over Ura's Raven totem, blurring the outline to show Grev's dominance.

"Spirit of Horse, Totem of Grev, your sign has overcome Spirit of Raven, Totem of Ura," Mog-ur gestured. "May Ursus allow that will always be so. Grev, do you accept this woman as your mate?"

Grev leaned forward and tapped Ura on the shoulder. When she looked up with shining eyes, he motioned to her to follow him. Ura got to her feet gracefully and followed behind her new mate as they went into the mud cave together to collect their personal belongings. They planned to leave at once.

Durc leaned down and picked up a roll of hide holding everything he wanted to take back with him. It was knotted at the ends and he slung it over his back and one shoulder to make it easy to carry. He carried his sacred spear in one hand, as he still needed to lean on its support a little. He glanced at Brac, standing beside him. Like Durc, he was carrying everything he

needed and Igra was similarly burdened.

Durc's eyes swept the crowd once more. He had been trying all the morning to see if Kalli would be there. He felt badly about just leaving without saying a last few words to her, she had been his true friend all that summer. But she was still with Zeena. Her older sister had given birth to a strong and healthy boy, but the birth had left her exhausted and Kalli was not going to leave her side until she was sure her sister was recovering well.

Durc had visited their tent earlier in the day, but it was to find Kalli, Zeena, Toll and the new babe all fast asleep and the old Medicine Woman of Jorg's Clan sitting outside by the fire. She requested him silently to leave without waking the sleepers. She assured him that she would pass on his good wishes.

The three sidestepped the people gathering around trying to question Durc and Brac and went to stand by the mud cave entrance.

As he stood there, Durc saw Brun detach from the crowd and approach, and he eyed the former leader of their clan with some apprehension. Durc admired this man more than any he had ever met, and regarded him, in many ways, as a father-figure. It was he who had taken on his training as a child. Old Zoug had taught Durc to use the sling; but it was Brun who had answered his seemingly incessant questions and helped him to understand the often confusing ways of the Clan with great patience.

Brun indicated the travelling pack on his back and on Brac's and addressed the young men. "You are both to accompany Grev?" he stated rhetorically. "I think that is a good idea. Broud can be expected to be…very angry when he learns of this. Oh, I know," and he held up one hand to forestall Durc's comment, "that it was not your doing. I was privy to the discussion Mog-ur and Broud had last night, and I guessed some of what had been happening. Although I did not think that Grev and Ura would be mated now! I had it in mind that it was some plan you and Brac and Grev had come up with that Broud would be known to disapprove of. It is a pity that Grev will probably have to leave for Norg's clan. Broud will likely disown him as his son and ban him from coming back. I think that young man would have made a very good future Mog-ur for our clan. However, that cannot be helped now. It is done, and Norg's gain is our loss."

He looked at Brac. "I will explain to Broud that you accompanied Grev as his brother and will resume your place once you dispense that duty."

He clapped one hand to Durc's shoulder and allowed his genuine affection for the youngster, so like his Other mother, to show. "You are as close to me as the son of my hearth," he said. "As deep in my affection as is Brac and Grev. But you must know, Broud may hold you responsible for breaking the Mother's Promise. He may ban you from the Cave of our clan."

Durc nodded. "I would prefer to resume my place as the youngest of his hunters. But if his displeasure with me is too great, I have already resolved to join the Sea Kin, if they will have me."

Brun gazed at him with compassion. "I hope it will not come to that, and I will do all in my power to persuade Broud against any course of action where we will lose a capable hunter. Only remember, Durc," and here Brun glanced at Brac significantly, "Broud will not always be leader of this clan. It is the Custom that all leaders must in the fullness of time pass their role on to the younger generation."

The newly-mated couple emerged from the cave with their belongings and Brun stepped back, unable to signify that he had seen them. He signalled quickly to Durc and Brac, "When you are able to 'see' Grev again, after the isolation period, tell him that I wish him well. Go with Ursus, all of you."

Durc, Brac and Igra turned away as if they could not see Grev and Ura, who followed sedately at a small distance, maintaining the customary illusion of isolation. Durc glanced quickly at Mog-ur as they passed him. The man raised his hand and gestured silently, "Walk with Ursus."

Then the five young people set out on their long journey to the east.

The journey back felt like a curious inversion of the trek west in spring. Once again, Durc was travelling with a newly-mated couple to whom he was not allowed to speak. But instead of Brac and Igra, who were now walking at the front of the small group with him, it was Grev and Ura who were walking behind them and who he had to pretend weren't really there.

The weather was still unseasonably warm, but the nights had begun to feel chill. Often Durc went to his bedroll in the evening with the fur cover thrown to one side, only to wake the next morning to find himself curled into a ball with the fur on top of him and the tip of his nose cold.

They made good time. By the third day they were able to pick up the pace as Durc's leg strengthened and toughened and the two women found their travelling speed, unencumbered with babies or children to care for. Durc's leg was essentially healed and in any case they were not in any great hurry. But unhindered by older people, or little children, they were able to set a good pace. The small group of young, healthy trekkers were not heavily burdened; they had taken the chance of the weather staying clear and had not bothered with taking along heavy tents. The odd night or two when it did rain, the group were able to find shelter under a rock overhang, and once in the massive hollow of the trunk of an old dead tree that had fallen to the ground. When they had cleared out the spiders and insects and lit a fire at the front, it made a surprisingly cosy space to spend the rainy night and day that followed.

The young men hunted small game as they travelled, Durc mainly using his sling and Brac his bola, while Grev used a light spear and the two women foraged, finding more and more edible autumn food the further they got from the coast and Clan area, as the essentially dry plains became more heavily wooded.

They ate two meals a day, in the morning and the evening, stopping beside creeks and waterholes, and chewed travelling food during the day. A wide variety of rodents made their homes on the wide plains of fescue, feather grass, and makija shrubland, including gophers, hamsters, and jerboas. The major bird species were black and hazel grouse, owls, gulls, and partridges, as well as many wild geese, ducks, and storks.

The group disdained to catch fish in the rivers, many now shrunken to streams after the long hot summer, since they did not wish to take the time, and twice they crossed paths with flocks of Pachee, who stood their ground here more than their brethren in the west who had learned to fear human hunters. The small group of humans were able to get quite close to the birds before the animals turned as one and disappeared in a cloud of churning dust.

The warm autumn days blended so well into each other that it felt to the group of humans adrift on the wide plains that their journey would never end, a strange dreamlike feeling of sameness as day melted into endless sunny day. However, one morning Durc awoke before the others and went to stir up the banked fire.

It was cold and he shivered while he began to brew some mint tea, smiling to himself as he did so, since he was the only man in the whole of Broud's clan who would condescend to do

so, if there was a woman present who could do it for him. But he enjoyed taking care of his own needs, and was used to looking after both himself and Vorn, even cooking for them if Uba should be busy at another hearth using her healing magic. His food was not up to the exacting standards of his adoptive mother, but quite palatable for all that he was born a male. He might lack the "memories" of how to cook from his ancestors, but he had watched Uba do it often enough and had learned, with the easy facility of his Other ancestry.

He sat quietly, watching the sleepers, not having to pretend for the moment that Grev and Ura were not with them. On his own side of the fire, Brac and Igra lay together under their furs. Durc had picked up more than cooking by watching Uba, he also had enough of her medical lore, through observation and things that he had overheard, that indicated that Igra was showing early signs of pregnancy. Durc felt glad for the young woman; he was fond of Brac's mate and knew she loved children. He wondered if she had told Brac yet that she was with child? Surely he must have guessed; if it was obvious to Durc it would be even more so to Brac that she no longer isolated at her hearth with the Woman's Curse. But nothing was said; it was customary to wait as long as possible so as not to tempt malice from evil spirits who might try to do harm to the mother or the baby. Only when it was confirmed by the Medicine woman of a clan that the pregnancy was securely attached would the news be acknowledged and celebrated with everybody.

Across from where Durc was sitting, Grev and Ura lay in a loose tangle of entwined limbs. Durc had never once regretted his impulse to stand aside from his claim on the young woman. There was a true affection and consideration between the pair that could not be denied. Grev would make a far better mate for the young woman than he ever could. Durc liked Ura, but he could not say that he wanted her for his mate.

His hand went up to his face and he rubbed at the fine silky growth of hair which had begun to emerge from his face during the trek back. He was finally growing a beard! He thought back over the years, trying to work out how long he had been alive, but the math defeated him. Then he thought to just count the Clan Gatherings. There had been one towards the end of his birth year. And this one. Surreptitiously he pressed five fingers of one hand against his leg, then two of the other hand, as Toll had once shown him to do. This many years had passed since then. He added another finger for good measure. Five fingers and three fingers. He was this many years old!

He knew it was late for a man of the Clan to finally start to show signs of maturation, but Toll had assured him once that it could be a lot longer for men of the Others, and men of the Sea Kin were equally uncertain in the timing of their maturity. So Durc had always been confident that he would be a man in fact as well as in status eventually. When Durc had questioned Toll, he'd answered by holding up both hands, putting all the fingers up, then put one hand behind his back, folded three fingers of one hand down and left up two, in a number way too complex for Durc, at that stage, to even begin to understand.

"I began to grow a beard then," Toll had said, "In the language of my former people, the Dentratii, I was twelve years old."

The word meant nothing to Durc, but he gathered it was the name for the number of fingers he'd been shown.

"And then the Great Mother Trati began to visit me in my dreams," Toll continued. "So I knew I was a man then. But amongst the people I grew up with, it is not such a big expectation."

"What means that word, Toll, Deng…Denghz…" Durc had asked curiously, trying to sound out the unfamiliar word with its many syllables.

Toll had given him his amused face, clearly pleased to be asked. "Dentratii are my former people, the people of my mother, who live to the south-west. The man of my hearth was a man of the Ramudoi River People who live in the east. He was on a trading trip with his family when they came across a Summer Camp of the Dentratii. That's like a Clan Gathering, but held once every year. He and my mother taught each other their languages and in the end he decided to stay with the Dentratii and mate with my mother. Trati is the name we give to the Great Earth Mother. I revere Ursus now, but I was brought up to believe in the Mother. Perhaps they all dwell in the Land of the Spirits, who can say?"

Durc had just had to shake his head ruefully, utterly defeated by so many strange-sounding words and ideas. Durc really liked and respected Toll, but sometimes the man could come up with the most outlandish notions!

The fire made a loud snapping just then, as one of the logs shifted slightly, and Grev sat up, pushing the furs away bleary-eyed when he saw Durc sitting quietly sipping his tea. He got up and went to join him, settling down with a sigh.

"It looks like it will be fine again today," he commented nonchalantly.

Durc snapped back to full attention, suddenly remembering that Grev was supposed to be isolating. Grev gave his version of Durc's amused grin, a baring of the teeth that was a conscious imitation of his friend's smile. "Relax, my brother!" he said. "Yesterday was the last day of my isolation with Ura. You may safely 'see' us again."

Durc raised his hands uncertainly. "Are you sure?" he asked, glancing around nervously, as if the wide empty plains were crowded by malignant spirits just waiting for a deviation from Custom to swoop.

Grev nodded. "Quite sure. I have been making a notch in a stick every day since we left, as Goov showed me, and last night I was able to fit the fingers of both hands plus four more in the marks. Any evil ones will have dissipated overnight as our protective totems hovered."

Durc nodded, reassured. Grev had so much training now that he was nearly at Mog-ur status himself – if he said they were safe from evil spirits, then they were.

"Mog-ur has taught you well," he commented. "Do you remember, on our trek west, you were so proud of yourself, because you could count to three?"

Grev nodded again, happily. "Mog-ur has been teaching me the ceremonies and customs and memories until I have no room left in my head! He said that I should learn everything that I can so that one day I may replace him when he is old. I may be going to Norg's clan now, but I will still one day be Mog-ur in my own right. Which would make my mother proud." He glanced fondly at his new mate, now just emerging sleepily from her nest of furs. "And it would make Ura proud. And, speaking of being proud," he gestured, "that is a good start you have made on a beard! Not a fine red like mine, but not bad."

"What colour is it?" Durc enquired. He had been unable to make it out in any of the fast-flowing creeks and often muddy waterholes they had passed since it began to grow and was a little self-conscious to display his interest in front of Brac, in any case.

Grev considered. "Hmm," he said. "It is…rather like Toll's actually. That same slightly darker shade of yellow than the hair on your head."

Just then Brac joined them, and Igra and Ura began to bustle about getting breakfast for them all.

Grev looked at his older brother. "Brac, this area is familiar to me, we must only be a short distance from the cave of our clan..."

Brac nodded, stretching and yawning, but paying close attention.

"So I was thinking," Grev continued, "Should we break our trip at the cave of Broud's clan, wait for the others and hope that Broud will be reasonable once they arrive? Or should we assume his displeasure, bypass it and continue on to Norg's clan?"

Brac considered, taking the tea held to him by his mate and deliberately taking a sip as he turned the thought over in his head. He rubbed one hand over his own well-grown rich brown beard as he looked at the idea, and Durc was reminded suddenly of Brun, who had been the leader before Broud. He wondered if this was unconscious imitation on Brac's part, or just that the former leader and the future leader were alike in so many ways by coincidence. Brac gave all questions due consideration and Durc had never seen him brash, hasty and boastful as was so often the case with Broud.

Finally Brac said, "I think we can guess at Broud's reaction accurately. However, it would be a shame to bypass the cave altogether. We have enough of a start on the others that we can at least drop by for a day or two, they may need some replenishment and we could go hunting for them and at least let Grod know that the others are on their way. And it is still many days travel to the cave of Norg's clan. But hopefully we can do it in plenty of time before the snows of winter begin."

"If winter should come early," Durc put in, "we can take travelling tents from our cave. It will slow us down a little, but could be useful to us if the season is colder than we think. Because we don't really know much about the environment around Norg's cave. It could be more bitter, or more clement, than we imagine."

"Ura has told me what she knows," Grev added, "but she has no comparison to our area, having only passed by once on the way to the coast."

Brac nodded. "That is a good point," he conceded. He gave an approving nod to both Grev and Durc. "Both of you have made very good points."

Grev had an amused look on his face. "Look at us," he gestured. "You, Brac, planning out routes to take and what is best for everybody, a true leader. And Durc, busily working away at the details to implement your plan! We are like a mini-clan all on our own!"

"Don't forget your contribution, my brother," Brac said, his own expression showing how pleased he was by the compliment. "Here you are, having calculated days and times and able to understand what they all mean. If I am the current leader of our miniature clan, then I rely on the sound advice of my good Mog-ur and my Second, Durc!"

Durc sat back while the other two talked, pleased with this acknowledgement that Brac still rated him highly enough to become Second. Suddenly, the strangest idea struck him. A wave of strange presentiment swept over him. Because didn't the legend of Durc, the first Durc for whom he had been named, tell of some young people who had left the land of their mothers and clan to travel to a place where Ice Mountain could never find them? Why could they not found their own small clan, like those travellers must have done? It could be Brac's clan.

But then he shook his head, amused at his own fancy, and glad that Brac and Grev had not noticed his sudden abstraction. For how could a mere three men and two women found a clan of their own? There were just not enough people.

"Although," Durc thought with a sudden pang of yearning, "we are not so very far yet from the lands of the Sea Kin, and we know where they are. Maybe we could bring some of their youngsters here to start a new clan, halfway between Broud's clan and the Sea Kin… But no. It is impossible. I will begin to think like Toll soon, with all sorts of far-fetched notions!"

But still, the thought of Brac's clan returned to him several times over the next few days of travel, refusing to disappear, nagging away at the back of his mind…

13

There was a pleasant surprise waiting for them when they reached the cave of Broud's clan a little less than a week later.

The majority of the clan had left early the previous spring, leaving three people, Uka who was too ill to travel, her mate Grod and Uka's daughter Ovra who had stayed to look after her sick mother and mother's mate. But as the mini-clan, as Durc now thought of themselves privately, came in view of the cave mouth, he saw, not only the same three people, but an Ovra who was very definitely pregnant as well!

It looked like a miracle had occurred – the long warm spring and summer, freed of the hard work that was usually a woman's lot, had worked a transformation on Uka. Though she was still thin, she had lost the fragile appearance of approaching death. But more than that, it seemed, was the miracle of her daughter's pregnancy.

Ovra had been prone to miscarriage for many years after her mating to Goov, and had never had a live child. But now she almost glowed with health, and it seemed her transparent happiness had spilled over and had wrought a miracle on her mother. Uka now had a reason to go on living, so that she could be there for the birth of her daughter's baby.

Before the Clan had left on their trek, the women had got together with their digging sticks and dug over the ground where they were confident that Uka would be laid to rest by the time of their return. This was not a callousness on their part, rather it was a practical way to help ease the burden a little on Ovra,who would be expected to bury her mother as well as dealing with her own grief. They did not exactly dig a pit, but had softened the ground enough to make the eventual burial easier on the woman.

But here was Uka, standing and walking, a little unsteadily and leaning on her daughter for support, but undoubtedly alive, and stonger than she had appeared for a number of years.

Grod also was pleased to see them, but his look of pleasure turned to worry when he could not see the rest of Broud's clan approaching. He went to Brac and after formal greetings, gestured, "Where are Broud and Brun and the rest of the clan?" His body language conveyed his concern.

Brac hastened to reassure him. "They will be along presently, the leaders and their seconds decided to go on an extended hunt to thank the host clan. We," he gestured at his companions, "decided not to wait for them and left early to accompany Grev and Ura to Norg's clan. Grev mated Ura during the Gathering and he will be joining Norg's clan as acolyte to their Mog-ur."

Durc mentally hoped that this was true, since they hadn't actually discussed this with Norg. However, Goov had revealed the plan to Norg's Mog-ur and been reassured by him that he would be more than happy to accept Grev as an acolyte. Grev, after all, had been trained by Goov, who in turn had been trained by The Mog-ur, the most powerful holy man the Clan as a whole had ever known. Norg's Mog-ur was almost beside himself with delight when Goov had told him that the young man with such prestigious antecendents would consider becoming his acolyte, a position which had not yet been filled.

Grod turned and stared at Ura. "Ura? But…but isn't Ura the name of the young woman who is to be mated to Durc?" he questioned.

Brac nodded. "Circumstances changed while we were away. As I can see yours have as well! Could we impose and stay for a day or two before we contine on our way east? I and Igra and Durc of course will return from Norg's clan once we see my brother and his mate safely there."

"Of course!" Grod was reassured by this explanation. "Come on in, Ovra has just made us a midday meal, but I'm sure more can easily be prepared…"

Durc held up a pair of ptarmigan he had brought down with his sling that morning. Igra and Ura had plucked a bird each at their last rest stop by a waterhole. "We do not arrive empty-handed!" he gestured.

Ovra received the birds happily. "Thank you, hunter," she said formally, then slipped into casual language. She had, after all, known Durc since he was a baby, and had been a good friend of both Ayla and Uba. "These birds were always your mother's favourite!"

The birds were only small, but Ovra spitted them efficiently and set them to cook on the fireplace of Grod's hearth, where she had been living since the clan had left. She hurried around fetching birkbarch bowls, serving a helping of clover roots, chopped nuts, and sliced mushrooms covered with a sauce of meat broth to each person while the birds roasted.

Hands flashed in abbreviated sentences as the clan members settled down to eat, with Brac recalling some of the happenings and the outcome of the Bear Ceremony to the three who had not been there.

By the time Ovra broke up the cooked portions of ptarmigan to serve, most of the Ceremony had been recounted. Brac seemed to be having a little difficulty addressing the matter of Ovra's pregnancy however; while it was acknowledged that a woman could swallow any man's totem spirit to begin new life, it was considered a little indelicate to acknowledge that her pregnancy must have been started by the man of her hearth, he being the only male whose spirit was available at the time.

Before he could bring up the subject, Grod began to speak. "An odd thing happened here while you were gone," he said, taking a bite of drumstick and chewing while he spoke with one-handed abbreviated gestures. "It was perhaps a moon's cycle after the clan left, the weather was still cold at night. A man arrived."

"A man? What clan?" asked Brac, intrigued.

"He told us that they are currently camping south of here, by the coast," Grod answered. "They had only settled there this spring, they'd been forced to leave their traditional lands further north because the animals they hunted had changed their traditional migration routes and there was only small game to be had. Also, there had been some trouble with Others – more of them seem to be about all the time, and with poor hunting, there was not enough for everybody." Grod's expression was troubled. "But … they seemed to be a clan whose spirits had deserted them," he said uncomfortably. "For they also had suffered a burning fever and coughing before they left their first home. They lost many members to it, including their leader, his mate, and the son of his mate. Their Second also died, as did their Mog-ur. The only people left were two hunters, one of them the young acolyte to the Mog-ur, a handful of women, and a few children. It was the acolyte who came to us, he had been hunting small game, trying to get enough to feed his clan, when he saw the smoke from our fire."

"We gave him food, and a few other supplies," Ovra put in, as Grod took another bite of meat. "He stayed with us for one night, and I am no medicine woman, but we all could see that he was in poor condition. He told us his clan are not eating much, as they cannot find enough food, with so few men, to hunt big game, and the smaller prey are elusive. They are living on what the women can forage, but Zorn – that was his name – was saying that they have not been able to find any suitable caves, and two slings are not enough to catch food to fill hungry bellies. The children are weak and he fears what will happen with winter coming and no shelter."

Grod nodded. "They have been living in their tents. Out on the beach, without adequate food and not much in the way of supplies. And nothing put aside for winter. I…hope I did not err, Brac, but I offered them the shelter of this cave, at least until Broud and the rest of the clan arrive back. But my offer Zorn refused, with thanks, but still, refused."

"Why do you think he refused?" Durc asked, puzzled that this Zorn would not jump at the chance to provide for his clan.

Grod considered. "One instance of bad luck can be explained as just that, bad luck," he said at last. "But this clan seems to have had lost so much – Others moving into traditional hunting grounds, animal migration changing, and then a killing sickness. I think Zorn believes that their totem spirits have deserted them. When such a run of bad luck occurs, it generally means that they have lost their totemic protection, leaving them open to whatever malicious spirits decide to prey upon them.

'I must admit, I was glad privately that Zorn decided to refuse my offer of shelter on behalf of his clan. I did not want them to come here and infect the rest of us with malign spirits. But I had to make the offer."

"Of course you did, of course," Brac assured him. "You did the right thing, Grod, be easy on that score. We have all heard stories of individual clans which lost their protection and died out completely, although it makes me cringe inside to hear of it happening now, and so close to home."

"He stayed at our hearth," Ovra said. "I offered him food and fresh clothing and relieved his needs twice – he has no mate and is still very young, only just having achieved manhood."

Everybody relaxed subtly at the cause of Ovra's pregnancy thus revealed. This Zorn must have sprinkled his spirit inadvertently while he stayed at Grod's hearth, and Ovra had swallowed it and her totem spirit had been defeated. Durc thought to himself that Zorn's spirit must be very strong; Goov had been mated to Ovra for as many years as he could remember, and she had not borne life, her Beaver totem was just a little too fierce to be defeated.

"He was very uncomfortable even about accepting the little help we offered," Grod continued. "No, I feel that clan is doomed, tragic as it is. What can anybody do for a clan whose totem spirits have deserted them?"

"I'm not convinced that their totems have deserted them," Durc said. "I was just thinking that Zorn's totem must be very strong to have overcome Ovra's. But that means that his totem must still be there, if he could sprinkle it for her to swallow."

Grev looked at him with approval. "That is excellent reasoning, my brother, you debate like a Mog-ur!" he commented. "It may be," Grev continued, "that they are having such bad luck because their Mog-ur died of fever, so that they have nobody but a young and inexperienced acolyte to intervene and drive the evil spirits away. I wonder..." and here he glanced at Brac, "…it is only a half-day's walk to the coast from here. We could perhaps make a slight detour, take them more food, at least?"

Brac turned to Grod. "How are supplies here? Still adequate?"

Grod nodded. "We have enough stored to last our clan the whole of the winter, if need be. I've been out nearly every day since you left, hunting small game for the three of us, and we hardly needed to touch the stored food."

"I know for a fact that we have several old tents that are not used," Durc spoke up. "Maybe we could take them with us and offer them to this clan."

Brac nodded. "But would it open us to malicious spirits and bad luck?" he mused. "I know what Broud would say if Zorn had arrived while he was here: he would have been told to leave and take his bad luck with him."

Everybody nodded. They all knew the current leader's views on bad luck.

"I'm thinking that I know enough now to help dispel the evil ones," Grev commented. "I have learned from Mog-ur to be able to call on our own totem spirits for help, and if we were to stay for a few days with Zorn's clan the pair of us could perhaps get rid of the bad luck they have experienced and let their spirits return to them."

Brac took his time once more, thinking the matter over carefully. "We can only offer," he said at last. "And we can travel on to Norg's clan once the evil spirits are overcome and Zorn's clan has enough food to help them get through the winter months."

He stood decisively; having made his plan it was obvious he was eager to see it through. "Durc, let us go and inspect the tents. We can decide which ones to take with us. And Igra," he turned to his mate, "we will need baskets to carry dried food. Take as much meat as you can, if they have been living on what they have been able to forage, they probably need meat and fat more than anything now."

"No, wait!" It was Uka who spoke, gesturing suddenly as they all began to stand.

Everyone turned to look at the old woman, and she looked suddenly scared, scared that she had spoken out but also fearful of something else. She quailed a little before their questioning gazes.

Brac knelt down beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. "What is it that you wish to say, Uka?"

The old lady looked up into his face with anguish. "Oh, Brac! Is it really, truly safe? This may…this may be Ovra's only chance to have a healthy child! Can we risk angering evil spirits, maybe bringing their wrath down upon us, maybe even harming… harming the baby?"

Brac nodded. "My brother, acolyte to Mog-ur, assures us that it is safe." He glanced at Grev, who nodded emphatically. "But Uka, more than that, these people are Clan. It sounds like they desperately need our help. If we were in their situation, wouldn't you want some help from fellow Clan people? I don't think our spirits will be angered over what is a kindness."

There was no hint of reproach in Brac's voice, only gentle understanding of the old lady's fears.

Uka looked down at her hands, abashed, and nodded. "Yes Brac," she answered in subdued gestures.

Grev stood up. "Before we go, Uka, I will conduct a ceremony to invoke protection, speak to our totem spirits and ask Great Ursus for help. They will watch over this cave and not let any evil ones through to harm you, or anybody here. I promise you that, as a future Mog-ur."

Uka looked up at him with relief. It didn't matter to her that he was still technically an acolyte only. "Thank you, Mog-ur," she replied. Nobody corrected her unintentional slip of title; at that moment, it seemed, Grev had assumed the role of Mog-ur and it was comforting to think that they had their spiritual guide, their holy man who could intercede in the frightening world of the spirits on their behalf.

Igra got to her feet. To break the uncomfortable pause that had fallen, she motioned to Ura. "Come, Ura, I will show you where baskets and stored food is kept in this cave."

"I will help also," Ovra said. She turned to Uka, who was getting slowly to her feet. "Mother? You don't need to help…"

"I'm not so old that I can't pack a basket with food," Uka answered. She drew in a shaking breath, lifting her chin. "Brac is right, we must help other clan people when they are in need. It is the right thing to do."

The five young people left on their mission of mercy just after dawn the following day. Grev had performed a protection ceremony before they left, calling on their spirits to attend and pleading, in the silent language of the Clan, for the protection of Great Ursus, to watch over them all and keep them from harm.

Grod had offered to accompany them, but Brac had thanked him and declined, arguing that it would leave the two women at the cave unprotected from wild animals.

Privately he told Durc and Grev once they had left that Grod was older and slower now and the hike of several hours to the sea coast could overtax him and slow down the younger group, even burdened as they were now with tents and baskets of supplies. As there were only five of them, the men were also carrying a basket each, all of them cooperating to carry a load that would have hopelessly overburdened the two women.

Durc settled the tump line of his basket more comfortably; he was unused to carrying a basket and the material tended to chafe. As he did so, he reflected privately on the conundrum that Brac could reconcile two apparently conflicting statements in his head, while both statements he had made remained essentially true. Brac had just not told the whole truth. This was something that Durc had seen him do more than once previously, such as the day before when he had made it seem that the younger people had simply come ahead of the main group of clan because they had further to go to get to Norg's clan while the weather remained clement. It had been a reasonable explanation, and true in its own way. And it had reassured Grod. But it was not the whole truth.

"Perhaps it's the mark of a good leader," Durc thought to himself, "to think of another's feelings and then only telling the most palatable part of the facts, rather than the whole thing."

He wondered if he could do the same thing himself if he ever needed to, before remembering with some surprise that he had – he'd never in fact said that he didn't want Ura for a mate, after all. Instead he had satisfied his responsibilities to his mother's memory while at the same time appearing to Grev and Ura as both magnanimous and selfless.

It was a startling revelation, and occupied his mind for some time.

14

It was an easy walk to the coast and they picked up the location of the refugee clan just before midday. A thin plume of smoke from a fire showed in the sky, and they turned slightly more westerly to follow it. It was not long before they topped a slight rise in the ground and looked down on what had to be the campsite.

There were a few ragged hide tents standing in the lee of a cliff face, protected from the wind. A central fire burned brightly. The fire was the only cheerful spot in the whole setting; there were people sitting around it, their thin bodies giving mute evidence of a long period of malnutrition, if not outright starvation.

Durc silently used his version of counting, with his fingers held against his side: one, two, three…there were seven women sitting around the fire. Four children, all with huge eyes and stick-thin bodies. And a listless-looking little skinny baby, lying on a hide beside one of the working women.

The women were preparing vegetables, peeling and cutting them before putting them in a communal hide pot slung over the fire. It looked like a very meagre meal for eleven hungry people, and that was not counting the men, who must be off hunting.

Durc realised with a shock that there was a big bunch of wilted clover leaves being added to the pot. While the clan regularly ate the bulbous tap roots of clover, they rarely bothered eating the slightly bitter older leaves of the plant, particularly in autumn when the new growth was finished – it was considered a subsistence food only, to be eaten when there were no other greens available, usually in the meagre springtime. To see the pile of clover leaves being cooked so late in autumn showed that this clan was indeed in deep trouble. It was food, yes, but bitter and tough and unpalatable. A food of last resort.

The small group turned at a sound behind them and saw three people emerge from the forest. The two groups stopped and frankly stared at each other.

There was a young man, and Durc thought that must be Zorn. Ovra had said he was young, just barely a man, but he possessed that indefinable sense of one trained as Mog-ur, respectful but unafraid of the spiritual forces ordinary people could only guess at, one who could fearlessly tread the line to intercede between the corporeal and the spiritual worlds.

With him was an old man, hobbling along with the help of a staff. Durc looked closer: the man was an Other! And he looked to be at least as old as Zoug had been, fully the oldest person Durc had ever seen. In one hand the old man of the Others was casually holding a sling, and from his belt thong hung the limp body of a squirrel. But he must be a member of the clan, for he wore a Clan amulet around his neck.

Durc stared, trying not to be obvious about it. For the amulet was fastened with a leather cord, but the cord had strung along it what looked like the teeth of a large carnivore of some type. Rather like some of the objects he had seen amongst the Sea Kin, who liked to decorate their bodies, too.

With the two was another young man, hardly more than a boy, really, he had no beard as yet. And it was this person that Durc could not tear his eyes from – they looked enough alike to be brothers! Durc had an instant's weird feeling that he was looking at a reflection of himself in a clear, still pool of water.

The boy was staring at Durc in the same way, his eyes wide and wary as he took in the similarities of their features.

His hair was a shade or two darker than Durc's sandy blonde. But it was the conformation of his head that was the giveaway to his heritage. This young man had a receding but definite chin, and his forehead rose up in a high dome just like Durc's did, with no occipital bun. His jaw was almost gracile in comparison to Clan people, with a small nose. And he was tall. In fact, were it not for the shading of his skin, Durc might almost have imagined the young man to be a member of the Sea Kin, with their mix of Clan and Other characteristics.

As it was, he resembled Durc to an almost uncanny degree, not so much as if they were two born together from one mother, but rather as if they were an example of two of a type, two of the same kind of people.

Brac broke the impasse. He strode up to the man Durc took to be the acolyte.

"Zorn?" At the young man's cautious nod, Brac made a friendly gesture of greeting. "I am Brac, son of the mate of Broud, leader of the clan to the northwest of here. My group left the Bear Ceremony a little earlier than the others. We arrived at our cave yesterday. Grod told us of the difficulties your clan have faced and we decided to visit with some food to assist you."

Zorn looked overwhelmed; help was obviously something he had not expected to be offered. By now the women and children sitting at the fire below had seen the strangers conversing with their men and were crowding around.

Igra put her basket on the ground and took out a large wrapped package of concentrated and nutritious travelling food, pemmican cakes of fat and ground meat mixed with dried fruit.

She offered one to the nearest woman, who stood at the front of the women with her baby in a hide held to her chest. She stared at it for a moment, then with a hand that shook she took the cake and tasted it. Her eyes widened and she began to chew eagerly. Suddenly all four of the children were clamouring around this kind lady who was offering food, little hands reaching up mutely to the offering, silently pleading with their eyes for a share of this largesse.

Ura swung her basket from her shoulder and also opened a packet, handing portions around to the women who were shyly hanging at the back of the group. People sank to their haunches, chewing as fast as they could work their jaws.

Durc held up his hands; he knew enough of the Medicine Women's teachings to know what could happen. "Slowly, eat slowly!" he admonished. "Take little bites, and chew it well. It does nobody any good vomited straight back up!" He was pleased to see his warning heeded; the hungry horde began to take the time to swallow a bite before stuffing the next into their mouths.

By this time Zorn and his two companions were also eating. The youngster who had so intrigued Durc paused long enough to gesture, "My stomach is shrunken and wants to rebel. But I not let it!" He showed another similarity to Durc as he smiled.

After taking another bite, he added, "My name Bard. This," and he indicated with respectful formality the ancient standing beside him, placidly chewing, "Seld, man of my hearth, mate of my mother." He ended with a gesture to the man that invited him to introduce himself.

The old man also smiled, revealing only three or four teeth left in his mouth. "I have that distinction," he said. His gestures were as confident as Toll's had always been, showing he was completely comfortable with the largely unspoken language.

Then he added, "S'Eldakarn, formerly of the S'Armunai, my full name is. Bardelmarn," and he indicated the young man beside him, "is son of my mate." He saw the uncomprehending looks of the group as the multisyllabic spoken names rolled off his tongue, and added helpfully, "Seld and Bard, Clan people call us."

Having eaten, the people of the refugee clan became much more open and friendly to the strangers that had suddenly appeared in their midst. They led Brac and his small group to sit by the fire and served them tea. Durc sipped from his cup and was grateful to find that it was mint, rather than clover!

Most people's immediate hunger had been sated by the rich travelling food they had eaten, but a few still chewed on tougher strips of dried meat from the baskets. One of the smaller children went to his mother, crawled into her lap and fell asleep. None of the older children appeared inclined to want to leave or play, instead staying in the area of the fire and watching the visitors, their eyes huge with interest.

After a polite interval while they sipped their tea, Brac resumed his conversation with Zorn.

"I was…surprised…to hear that your clan refused Grod's offer of shelter," he commented. His gestures did not indicate censure, just interest to know why the offer had been refused.

Zorn looked down for a moment before again meeting Brac's eyes. "I was sorely tempted to accept, my friend," he said at last. "My refusal had more than one reason behind it. Firstly, when I first met Grod at the beginning of spring, my clan had just settled here. It seemed to be a good area, with herds of big game close by.

'Unfortunately, myself and Seld were the only adult men, and although Bard has grown to man-size this past year, he has not been trained in the methods to hunt large herding animals; he is still to have his manhood hunt. Still, I thought we might have been able to use ambush techniques to catch something, with one of us scaring a herd to run towards hidden hunters, but for some reason the herds in this area are very skittish and will run before anybody can get into position."

Brac nodded. "That may be my clan's fault," he admitted. "My clan live on a major animal migration route. The animals that reached this area have been hunted before by us and have learned to be afraid of humans. The older animals, certainly, even though we were not there to hunt them this summer. But the hunted have long memories and would recognize humans as a danger. That would cause them to run, and with only three hunters, you were at a disadvantage."

Zorn nodded. "Secondly, I was hesitant to accept an offer of shelter since your leader was not there to agree," he continued. "If the offer had been made by the Leader's Second, or even by the Mog-ur, I would have accepted, gladly. But I could not reasonably expect my people to make another march to a prospective home and then have the leader disagree and tell us he could not accept a people whose spirits had deserted them."

Grev spoke. "I am only an acolyte, and not yet finished my training," he gestured. "But Durc made an interesting observation regarding that." He turned to Durc. "Tell them your idea, my brother," he urged.

Durc felt a little uncomfortable being the centre of attention as all eyes around the fire turned to him. "Well," he began, "when we arrived at the cave, we found that Ovra, who had stayed to be with her sick mother and to care for her mother's mate, was pregnant." At the polite but uncomprehending look that Zorn gave him, he added, "this is significant, since Ovra has been mated to our Mog-ur for as long as I can remember. And she was pregnant once or twice but always miscarried early on. And then she just stopped getting pregnant at all. She has never once given birth to a healthy child."

'When we learned that she was pregnant, and so far along with an apparently healthy baby, we were a little uncomfortable, since while it is not against Custom for a woman to become pregnant to the spirit of the man of her hearth, it is not looked upon with favour. But then she mentioned that you, Zorn, had stayed with them for a day and a night. Forgive me if I am making too large an assumption here, this man knows nothing of the ways of the spirits, but I felt it was safe to assume that it was your spirit that she swallowed. You must have sprinkled it while you were staying with them."

"In which case," Grev broke in, unable to resist, "not only has your spirit not deserted you, but it is very strong, as well! Ovra's Beaver totem has always overcome all other male's spirits attempts to make her pregnant! Her mate is our Mog-ur, and not even his Auroch's totem, with the assistance of Ursus, had not been able to succeed!"

Zorn looked a little stunned. "But… then…our spirits are still with us?" Suddenly his expression brightened with relief, as if a huge weight had been taken from his shoulders. "Oh, my friends, you don't know what this means to us! Not only your timely arrival with food, but you have brought us hope as well! We were dwindling, convinced that we were doomed to go the way of those clans of legend who lost their spirits! When Mog-ur who was training me died, when we lost our leader and the son of his mate, I was convinced that we were doomed!"

He turned to his raptly-watching clan. Their expressions mirrored his, with hope, relief, and a renewed sense of purpose. "Do you see that, my people? Our spirits are still with us! They wanted a new home!"

Clan people do not applaud, with the exception of the Sea Kin's strange ululations, but hands began to flash as the people started to discuss what this meant for them.

Brac turned back to Zorn. "Were those the only reasons you refused shelter?" he questioned.

Zorn looked a little uncomfortable. "There was one more reason," he admitted. "It was not long after we decided to start looking for a new home. I had meditated long and hard about which direction we should go. To the west and east are many of the people the Clan call Others. Some of our more recent interactions with them have been – unfortunate. Although some had learned to speak our language, not all had, and we had never learned theirs. So I meditated upon north and south as alternate directions. It was while I was sitting by the fire, meditating and recovering from the fever that had taken so many of us, that I had a … vision. At that stage I thought we still had the favour of Ursus and I believed it to be a vision from him to turn south. I saw this area, by the sea, this exact area."

He indicated the cliff they were sheltering by. "Do you see, at the top of that cliff is a rock shaped like a sleeping Cave Lion?"

The visitors all looked, and sure enough, the large formation of the cliff top, if viewed from a certain angle, did look like a Cave Lion with its head on its paws, one eye closed.

"That is how I knew this was the right area," Zorn continued. "My vision showed the Cave Lion rock as a landmark, and I saw there were many people living here, they had a number of strange caves like large muddy mushrooms sprouting from the ground."

He frowned as he attempted to describe his vision. "They were Clan people," he added, then turned his eyes to glance at first Durc, then Bard. "But their features were subtly different, resembling more Bard and your clansman Durc. They all seemed to be healthy, well-fed, and happy. The men had apparently just caught a great fat bison, and the women were busily skinning it while children ran around playing. It was…idyllic. I felt that here we could find a place to call home, with our dwindling numbers."

He sighed at the happy memory, then frowned once more. "Unfortunately, it must have been a fever dream, not a true vision," he continued. "For after struggling here with many privations and never enough food, we found only the cliff with its rock shaped like a Cave Lion. There are no caves anywhere around, shaped like muddy mushrooms or inside a cliff. I should have realized it was not a true vision, for the people within it were not exactly like Bard and Durc. For they were odd, having very dark skin…"

Durc gave an audible gasp, it burst out before he could stop it. He blushed as every eye again turned curiously towards him, but he leant forward to Zorn eagerly.

"It was a true vision!" he gestured emphatically. "When we went to the west, the clan hosting the Gathering called themselves the Sea Kin. And the people you just described, they had to be Sea Kin! They too have dark skin and features like mine!"

Durc was unable to sit still. He jumped to his feet. "Tell me, Zorn, if you could, where would you situate a cave here, on this camping ground?"

Zorn looked bemused. "What are you talking about, Durc? There is no cave, you can see for yourself."

Durc thought about how to phrase something that he could see clearly in his mind's eye but which he knew a Clan man would have difficulty comprehending.

"Tell me," he tried again, "when you had your vision, whereabouts was the cave shaped like a mushroom?"

Zorn got up and paced a circle from the cliff wall. "It was… here. It was very clear in my vision, and one of the reasons I was so disappointed to see nothing when we arrived."

Grev had been watching Durc with a puzzled expression, but suddenly he seemed to realize what his friend was getting at. He took his light hunting spear from its place by his side. "Ura, do you have a length of twine or sinew?" he enquired of his mate.

Ura rummaged in her basket and held up a long narrow strip of leather, a roll of it used for binding on leggings. "Will this do?" she asked.

"Perfect." Grev took the length of hide and the spear and went to stand by Durc. "The mud caves?" he questioned with a quick gesture.

Durc nodded, relieved that he did not have to try to explain this difficult concept completely by himself.

Grev drove the spear point down into the soft loam and tied one end of the leather strip to it. Then, unrolling it to its full length, he walked in a big circle around the spear, using the leather to maintain the circle which he scuffed in the dirt with one foot so that it would show. Grev too had listened to Toll's explanation of how the mud caves were built; he had obviously paid close attention when Toll had shown them how to pace off a mud cave's dimensions in this exact same manner.

Durc explained to the watching people, "The Sea Kin make their own caves from mud and saplings when they cannot find any suitable natural caves." He thought back to when Kalli, and later Toll, had explained the construction of the mud caves.

"They use stones to brace the saplings and holes dug in the soil. I think the soil here looks deep enough to work and I can see there is plenty of broken stone at the cliff base. The saplings go in holes dug around the edge of this circle. Once the stone has been used to brace and hold them in place, thinner, more pliant saplings are threaded around the supports, like a very loose, very large carrying basket. And then mud and dried grass is added to make the walls waterproof and windproof."

He paused, trying to remember how he had been told that the roof was constructed, but the memory eluded him for the moment. But then, as his eyes roved about the dilapidated tents that made up the campsite, another idea came to him, one for which his brain, adept at logical jumps, made easily. "Then, when the mud walls are strong and dry inside and outside from the sun and from an internal fire, we cover it over with tent hides, supported by more light sapling poles on top! If built properly, it can be waterproof and last for many seasons, with only a renewal of fresh mud and straw every season."

Grev joined in enthusiastically. "I can see you are puzzled, Zorn, but the Sea Kin are amazing and have such structures. With mud caves they do not have to rely on natural ones, and can build however many they need, to whatever size is required, as their clan expands. We stayed in one for the whole of the Gathering, and I can attest that it was as comfortable and as dry as the best of caves. They have a hole that serves as entry and exit, and a hole in the roof to let out the smoke from the fires, which can be covered over if it rains or snows."

Zorn was looking overwhelmed. "But … but how could I have seen it in a vision, if it is not here?"

Grev answered, "I think that you experienced a vision, not of what is, but what will be," he said. "I think perhaps it was a message from Ursus that your spirits were unhappy with their other home, for whatever reason. Perhaps the people who died of fever were needed in the spirit world. But it is your clan which will build these mud caves."

"And perhaps some of the Sea Kin will travel this way," Durc added. "For they are great travellers and journey far. But they are still Clan, they keep to the Customs. We had a ceremony when we arrived and their Mog-ur took us back in memory and proved it to us, since there were some who doubted."

"If some of the Sea Kin were to come here, your clan would indeed prosper," Brac added his recommendation. "Their men are excellent hunters and their women can forage both on the land and in the sea. They are very skilled swimmers. And here, by the sea, is exactly the sort of environment they favour."

"Maybe, if we had a man to spare from hunting small game, we could send a runner to them asking for some of their people to come and help us build a mud cave," Zorn said, then his expression changed. "But it will be winter soon, we cannot hope to build such a thing in time, and we can't do it by ourselves, I can only barely imagine it, though I saw it in vision. I wouldn't know where to start."

Brac, Grev and Durc met each others eyes and all knew they were thinking the same thing.

"We could delay our trip," Brac said slowly. "There is no pressing need for us to leave straight away. How long do you think it would take to build a mud cave, Durc?" he asked.

Durc spread his hands, accepting that he did have the most knowledge of it and was therefore being accorded the status of expert in their small group. "Kalli and Toll both said it took around two handsfulls of people," and he held up his fingers quickly to illustrate the concept, "one handful of days to erect a suitable cave such as we were housed in. The most time is spent cutting down saplings and gathering vines and grasses, the construction itself is straight-forward enough. Then perhaps two or three days for the mud to dry enough inside and outside to be habitable."

Brac nodded, considering. "We can all cut down saplings," he said. "And while we wait for the mud to dry, perhaps you would allow my brothers and I to go hunting with you, Zorn? Large game, too. With more of us it should be easier. Not only that, but both Durc and Grev have new hunting spears which are lighter and can be thrown at animals that are at a distance. We do not have to run the prey down and use heavy lances against them. I am sure even the most wary of animals can be caught with spears that fly through the air. Let us help to see you sheltered and with enough food to last the winter," he added. "It would be good to know of a clan living so close to us that we are on friendly terms with."

"Springtime would be soon enough to send runners to the Sea Kin," Durc said, unwilling to let the matter of the Sea Kin rest. "I am sure if you offered them shelter and food, some of their younger people would be happy to come here and join your clan."

Ura got up and approached Zorn a little diffidently, kneeling gracefully in front of him, showing that she wished to add something significant to the conversation.

When he tapped her shoulder, she looked up and gestured, "I come from Norg's clan, Mog-ur, to the east of here. I see that your clan has a number of young women; did they lose their mates to the fever?"

At Zorn's nod, she continued, "Norg's clan has a similar problem; we have more men than women and some of the hunters do not have mates. If you were to tell them that they could come here and join you, that you could guarantee them a respectful mate, I am sure some would be eager to relocate. I know it is unusual for a man to join another clan, more usually it is a woman who leaves her clan for her mate's. But it is not unheard of."

Zorn thought about this, nodding. "What a thing that would be for us," he motioned, "for more hunters to join our ranks. And babies would be born again, since our spirits have not deserted us." His face, normally set in grim lines of responsibility for such a young man, was now alight as he thought of the possibilities. "Oh, my friends, how fortunate it was that I saw the smoke from your cave earlier in the year! You have rejuvenated us!"

The remainder of the afternoon saw everybody who was strong enough wielding flint axes to cut down saplings. Most of the women and a couple of the older children joined in with the effort of felling and stripping off branches, and by sundown they had a good pile of long slender poles lying beside the fire. They all ate another meal provided from the baskets, sitting around a good warm fire.

Bard mentioned how, when he had been out hunting small game earlier in the day, he had spotted a herd of elk (Megaloceros giganteus). "They were grazing along the verge of the forest where it meets the plains. I watched them for a time - they had massive antlers," he added in awe. "And they were so big! I wished then we had more hunters; I would have loved to have an elk credited to me for my manhood hunt."

Brac nodded solemnly. "The elk is a worthy prey animal for any hunter. We have not seen too many around our cave, they are an animal who are at home both on the plains and in the forest. It may be that the herd you saw is not used to humans and would not be as wary." He thought for a moment. "The weather seems still to be unseasonably fine – I wonder… we can leave the women tomorrow to dig holes along the circle to place the poles, and we men can try hunting one of the elk you saw, Bard."

"Elk are fast," Zorn commented. "And as likely to disappear into the trees of the forest as run onto the plains. We are still only a small hunting party, we could not hope to run them to ground on the plans, and we will certainly lose them if they decide to make for the cover of the trees."

"We may not need to run them down," Brac said. "Grev and Durc are very skilled with the light throwing spears. They may make all the difference in a hunt, I have seen them do it. And the amount of meat one elk would provide would be a good start in provisioning this Clan for the winter. I think it would be worth taking the risk of a day to try, at least."

The small group of hunters became enthused by the possibility, leaning together and discussing possible strategies for the next day intently.

"I can take you to where I saw them last," Bard said. "And if they are no longer there, we should be able to track them, being such big animals."

Seld shook his head. "I would just slow you down," he said regretfully. "My old legs are not so quick anymore. I think I had better stick to small game with my sling tomorrow."

"If we are not successful," Brac said soothingly, "then small prey is better than none at all."

"And even big game can be brought down with a sling, can they not, my brother?" Grev said to Durc with an amused expression on his face. "Remember the reindeer we caught for our manhood hunt?"

Durc rolled his eyes. "I will never be allowed to forget that! My sling did slow it down, but…"

Brac held up his hand, his eyes twinkling. "Durc, do not spear my illusions! I remember it fondly! Grev's spear or your sling, who can say what finally killed that reindeer?"

Durc smiled. "Perhaps it was ill!" he gestured. Casting about for a way to change the subject, he said to Seld, "I would be interested to know how a man of the Others comes to live with this clan, if Seld wishes to tell."

Seld nodded agreeably. "I am originally from people called S'Armunai. We lived in a group of caves some way north-west of here. The S'Arunai lived near a clan, and since we did not share or overlap our hunting territory we did not have friction. They tended to hunt to the east and we concentrated mainly on the animals of the west. Over time we began to trade commodities: the clan made exceptionally soft furs and they liked our beaded ornaments, particularly those that had animal teeth added. I was told, as a boy, that we once made a present of a fine necklet of cave bear teeth to their leader in exchange for some sturdy hunting lances which we used to hunt mammoth. Of course, back then we didn't know that the Clan revered Great Ursus! But it made a very good impression. So the two peoples got on at least as well as any other.

'I have travelled somewhat as a young man – I had siblings living to the west. I heard that some of the western tribes regard the Clan as animals, but that is ridiculous! Anybody can see that Clan are as human as Others. Personally I think that story got started because we tend to hunt the same animals and use the same caves, and there has been conflict over that. You don't feel guilt if you force an animal out of their territory, so perhaps to believe the Clan were animals made them feel better about their own bad behaviour.

'But we S'Armunai lived comfortably in a big warren of caves, we could not hope to occupy it all, while across the ridge the clan had a similar set of caves. After a long period of such contact, some of us learned to speak with the language of the hands and body. We would even join together to hunt mammoth in the late autumn, and share the meat! It was not uncommon for a man of the S'Armunai to mate with a woman of the clan. Often he would join the clan although sometimes he would bring his mate to live with him in the cave of the S'Armunai."

"Did men of the Clan mate with women of the Others?" Durc asked with interest.

Seld shook his head. "No, I never saw that. I think S'Armunai men were drawn to clan women because of their submissive and pliant natures; but S'Armunai women are used to speaking for themselves. We revere the Mother of All, and believe Her embodiment is Woman, so the Clan males more…strict…approach did not appeal to the S'Armunai women at all. Whenever we hunted mammoth together, it was made clear to us that the Clan would not participate if women also hunted. But S'Armunai women often came along and helped Clan women butcher and preserve the meat. Then we all took a share.

'I was mated for many years to a S'Armunai woman and she gave birth to three children, two girls and a boy, who grew fine and strong. All three mated. Two left the area to live with other tribes of S'Armunai, and one daughter mated and went north to join the Mamutoi hunters living there. But my mate, Rosanona, sickened one winter and died of the coughing disease, do you know of the one, where blood comes up with the coughing?"

Durc and the others nodded sympathetically; tuberculosis was unfortunately too common and tended to attack the older members of the Clan.

"I grieved her loss for some time. For over a year I had no heart for anything and would spend a lot of time roaming the forests hunting by myself with my sling. One day I came across a woman of the Clan. I learned later that she was a Medicine Woman of some renown. That particular day she was looking for the plants to work her healing magic. Thanks to so much time spent hunting in the woods with my sling, I was able to conceal myself and watched her. She fascinated me; such focus on the plants, her general demeanour when she thought herself alone I found very appealing. It was as if a grey cloud had suddenly lifted from my heart and become a sunny day.

'I returned the next day to the same spot and she had returned. I think she must have known I was there, but although she was wary, she was not afraid of me, she knew our two peoples were friendly.

'I grew bolder and stepped from concealment and spoke to her in her language of gestures. I knew it, from shared hunts, enough at least to converse with her.

'I asked her what her name was and she told me it was Irai. I found myself seeking her out every day after that and she did not seem averse to my attentions. Spring became summer and by the time autumn arrived, I was as fluent in Clan speech as I was with S'Armunai. And eventually I could not deny that I had feelings, strong feelings of affection for Irai, and admitted it to her.

'She told me that she had been mated, but her mate had died in an accident. She was expecting to be made second woman to one of the other men soon. She had a daughter who she was training to become a medicine woman. A few times she brought her daughter with her to meet me."

Here Seld indicated a woman sitting across the fire from them. She had been nursing the baby, who had fallen asleep at her breast, and as she saw Seld indicate her, she made a subtle gesture indicative of affection and respect which adult Clan women give to the man of their hearth, mate of their mother.

"Oona is the daughter of my hearth, even though she was born when Irai was with her former mate. Oona had just finished her weaning year when I first met her mother." Seld gave Oona a fond smile then continued with his narrative. "I went to the leader of her clan with gifts and asked for Irai to be given to me as my mate. He seemed bemused, but also gratified, that I thought highly enough of her to give gifts, but it was the custom of my people to pay a Bride Price for a mate and I knew no differently.

'I said that if they agreed, I would live with them and learn their ways, my own cave at that time being too full of sorrowful memories of my last mate to return to. I was accepted into the clan, given into the protection of the Dhole spirit," and here he touched his

amulet, strung with animal teeth, before resuming. "I have lived with them ever since.

'Irai gave birth to a son and asked me to name him in the S'Armunai fashion, so I called him Bardelmahn, which the Clan say as Bard. In the language of the S'Armunai it means Sparkling Waterfall. His totem was found to be the Hawk Spirit. My own name means Fleet Footed, although I have not been for some time! We lived for many years happily, joining in mammoth hunts with my former people from time to time, occasionally trading. Ah, it was a good time, a golden time full of happiness." Seld sighed, then shook his head. "But then the killing fever struck.

'Many Clan people died of it, as did the S'Armunai. It seems when we shared a hunt the sickness spread between the two peoples and many sickened and died. Some of the S'Armunai were from western tribes; they said that the Mother was angered by the matings with Clan we had been indulging in and had sent the fever as a punishment. They were more numerous than our clan by then and not as weakened; they drove us away. We travelled south following young Zorn's vision of a new home by the sea."

There was no movement for a while, broken only by the flickering, dancing flames of the fire.

Finally Durc said, "Your mate, Irai? She was the Medicine Woman, you said?" The past tense in the gesture used had not been lost on him.

Seld nodded sadly. Durc was surprised to see a single tear run down the old man's cheek, a sign that he was truly born an Other. "Yes. My Irai, my sunlit day. She tried so hard to save her people. But it was not to be. She died, but not of the fever. I woke one morning and found she had gone to the spirit world during the night. I believe she died of a broken heart."

15

The five young men making up the hunting party had been tracking the elk herd most of the morning, and caught up with them when the sun was high in the sky.

The animals had been browsing along the periphery of the trees. The leaves that they relished had mostly fallen, and they were grazing the grasses and sedges which grew on some wetter ground bordering the woods.

They were a bachelor herd of mostly young males, with a few elders of truly massive proportions and antlers amongst them, gleaming and healthy after the summer of good grazing. They were aware of the group of humans watching them but seemed unperturbed, merely moving a short distance away before returning to their leisurely cropping, confident in their ability to outrun anything that might give chase.

"That herd has not encountered people before," Brac signed. "That will make it easier to catch one. I had not realized how very big they are, if we are successful it will take all of us to get it back to camp! I think we should concentrate on one of the younger ones, it will be lighter to move. Durc and Bard, go wide around and camouflage yourselves in the long grass at the other end of the herd. Grev, you go into the woods and on the other side in case they go in that direction. Once you are all in position, Zorn and I will start to move them."

With brief nods of acknowledgement the hunters set off to take up their assigned positions.

Durc and Bard ran away from the herd, then when they deemed they were in the right position, they crouched low and veered back towards the animals, trying to move without disturbing the high grass concealing them too much. There was a slight breeze ruffling the tops of the grass, which helped, and the grass had shed its seed earlier in the season, so the remaining stems were standing stiffly upright and not bowed over under a heavy burden of seed.

Durc had two light spears in one hand while Bard still had his Clan spear, heavy and thick, meant to stab into an animal rather than be thrown. Bard was having a little trouble with the lance – like Durc, he was taller but lighter in muscle than Clan youngsters of the same age and it made it more difficult to manoeuvre the lance through the grass without a movement that would alert the herd.

Finally Durc estimated they were close enough to be effective, and Bard took his cue from the more experienced hunter. They crouched in the grass, waiting for Brac's signal. Durc peered through the long stems concealing them but the grass was too thick to make out the herd. Waiting was always nerve-wracking but Durc knew that Brac was estimating and weighing up just the right moment to start the drive towards the concealed hunters. He had one spear in each hand now, and gripped them tightly.

Glancing across at his companion he could see that Bard was trembling and felt a moment's empathy, remembering his own manhood hunt. The success or otherwise of this hunt had greater significance to the younger man than merely food and other resources necessary for his depleted clan's survival this coming winter. If he failed he would not become a man, and probably they would have to move again, seeking another place where the spirits would be happier.

Durc felt more sure that they would be successful. But still he felt the tension, building.

Then he heard both Brac and Zorn yelling, and poked his head cautiously above the level of the grass. Both men were shouting, waving their arms and lances and running towards the

herd, which had bunched up in alarm and now began to run towards what appeared to them to be open plains.

They approached fast, and when they were almost upon Durc and Bard, both hunters stood up suddenly, spears held ready. Durc's light spear was in flight almost immediately, heading towards an elder in the front of the thundering herd, with a huge rack of antlers on his head.

Just at the last moment, the animal swerved and the spear caught it, but not through the neck as he had hoped. It hit the animal in the shoulder as it turned, and glanced off without inflicting more than a scratch. But the lead animal's movement to the side caused those immediately behind it to collide and one younger and inexperienced beast could not correct itself in time. It was knocked over in the ensuing melee of panicked animals.

Before it had regained its feet, Bard had darted in amongst the thundering hooves with his long lance ready and speared the young elk through the side just as it managed to regain its feet. The heavy lance proved its worth, piercing the hide and organs like a hot flint knife cuts through tallow. The beast bellowed once, then sank to its knees and fell lifeless to the ground.

As the rest of the herd pounded off into the distance, Durc ran to Bard, who was standing, panting and staring at the dead elk in disbelief.

Durc clapped Bard on the shoulder, feeling great pride in the young man's achievement. "Well done," the gesture eloquently said.

Bard gazed at Durc, still feeling stunned, then a tremulous and wholly Other grin lit up his face. Durc let his own face relax and grinned back at him.

Bard was exultant. He reached for his deeply embedded spear sticking upright from the animal's side and yanked it free just as the other two hunters came panting up to them, and Grev emerged from the treeline.

Durc stared. His friend seemed to be wearing a heavy, loose-fitting fur jacket. As he approached them, Durc saw that Grev was not empty-handed. He had a woolly goat slung across his shoulders, staggering slightly under the weight.

He saw Durc watching and signed happily with one hand, "When you all started shouting, this animal got startled as well and ran right into me. I was able to get it. I see you caught your elk. Look at the size of those antlers! Well done."

There was another shout, a hail from behind them. Turning, they saw Seld coming out from his concealment in the trees. Durc blinked, the man was certainly very adept at camouflage.

"I could not stand to stay behind and miss the manhood hunt of the son of my hearth," the old man gestured. "But I did not want to interfere, so I stayed in the background."

He strode up to Bard, put both hands on his shoulders, then in an excess of exuberance, hugged the young man to his chest. As he leaned back again he signed, "Son of my mate, you are now truly a man! I am so proud!"

Bard hugged the old man back affectionately, then turned to Zorn. "Mog-ur, this means that the spirits are happy with us, doesn't it?" he pleaded. "We can stay here in this country?"

Zorn nodded slowly. "I think it must mean that our spirits have not deserted us. We were meant to come here to this new home. So long as the mud cave our new friends told us about can be successfully built, here is where we will stay!"

It was lucky that Seld had decided to trail the hunting party. With Grev burdened by his goat, that left only four of the original party to carry the heavy elk back to the Clan. Seld was given the head of the animal to carry wrapped in the cloak he had worn against the chill. With the antlers it made an unwieldy bundle, but manageable, and he carried it with immense pride, as if he had made the kill himself.

The men tied the legs of the elk together well above the knee joints, and three long spears and a fourth sapling hastily cut down from the forest were bound together to make two reinforced poles, passed between the forelegs and the hind legs, horizontally across the great beast. Bard and Brac took the front while Zorn and Durc took the rear. At Brac's signal the four men heaved forward and between them managed to lift the heavy animal slightly off the ground.

Then came the long slog back to the camp of the clan. The men strained under the load and they made it only after many stops to rest and to catch their breath. But as the sun hovered just above the western horizon, they at last made it back.

Oona was watching for them with her baby in her carrying cloak. As they neared the Clan, the rest of the women and children trooped out to meet them, walking beside in silent acclaim, their eyes wide at the mountain of meat and rich resources ensuring their Clan's survival for that winter. Bard's position in front of the victorious men announced to all that he had made his manhood kill.

"The son of your mate did well, Seld," Brac motioned, when they had eased the great beast down on the gravel before the fire pit. "Your Clan now has a new hunter to be proud of."

"He showed courage and a strong arm," Durc agreed. "He raced out amidst the flying hooves of the elk to put his lance in just the right position. I would not have ventured to try that."

Everybody was examining the mightly elk with admiration.

"Grev also has done a good job," Brac motioned. "Look at that fat young buck of a goat he managed to catch!"

Grev made a dismissive motion, but it was obvious to all that he was pleased. "Nothing like that elk you have. Its antlers are tiny," he said. "But it will be good to have it. Goat meat is one of my favourites!"

The cave construction continued the next day, although only the men and the children laboured at it, since all the women were busy processing the meat, hide and organs from the elk and goat.

There was a clear and reasonably deep creek a little downhill from the encampment, tinkling as it raced over rocks on its destination with the sea. Here a bank of sticky mud was dug and the children happily helped the men to mix dried grass into it before dragging balls of it up the slope on a ragged hide, the tattered remnant of one of their old travelling tents.

Meanwhile Durc directed where the poles should go in the holes dug by the women the previous day and found to his satisfaction that the tents would not be needed to cover the roof. The poles were thinner as they neared the top and could be bent and tied to a central pole, forming a domed roof to the circular cave such as he had seen in the Sea Kin's home. Rocks and thinner, more flexible saplings interlaced and helped to fill in the spaces between the poles and then the men and children, all covered in mud and having a great time despite the seriousness of their efforts, slathered big handfuls of mud onto the structure, forming walls. They left a space at the front as an entry and exit, and a hole in the roof for smoke from fires to escape, but the rest of the walls filled in rapidly with the enthusiastic help. A fire was lit inside to help speed up the drying of the thick mud.

Durc was gratified to notice that the children were not nearly so lethargic as they had been when he arrived; they were still painfully thin, but there was a light in their eyes and their faces were alive with the novelty of this new game as they joined in helping their elders.

Also, once started, Durc could see how the whole was supposed to look in his mind's eye. This was a huge relief, as he had feared he might falter, never actually having seen a mud cave built in person. However, Toll and Kalli had been good teachers and he remembered their explanations well and could put them together logically step by step as they progressed. The others appealed to him often for his advice, and he could see that he was now the acknowledged leader when it came to mud cave construction. Little problems were worked around, and slowly throughout the first few days, then faster and faster as the women finished their other tasks and could join in, the mud walls of their new home grew higher and higher.

It was not neat, by any means. In fact, it was rather lumpy and ugly, like a huge misshapen mushroom pushing up through the earth, with bits of grass and branches still sticking out here and there. Certainly it did not have the smoothly rendered appearance of the mud caves built by the more experienced Sea Kin. But it was not for its aesthetic that it was valued. It was shelter, it was spacious inside and it represented life through the long winter ahead.

Moreover in the long term, it represented an idea that would free the Clan to live in areas where there were no natural caves, even though other conditions such as hunting, foraging, etc were ideal. With the knowledge of building their own sturdy shelter, they need never again fear to move.

The base of the walls were the thickest and were drying well, and the whole was taking on the appearance of a river embankment, built there on the gravel clearing beside the creek. Durc, Bard and Seld had to duck their heads to get inside the entrance, but it was more than adequate for the others in the clan and with the internal fire helping to dry the walls, made for a warm and surprisingly spacious room. Foot grips had been notched into the sturdy central pole, allowing a person to climb up and work on plastering clay on the roof, and other wooden supports were added to the outside so that the same could be done externally.

As it could be seen to be taking shape, Zorn became effusive. They had warmed waterproof baskets of water with hot stones next to the firepit one evening and everybody was naked, men, women and children alike, all washing the mud off their bodies, as the creek water was by now way too cold to bathe in, with ice forming in some spots.

Zorn gestured to Durc, "We will soon be able to retreat inside for the cold weather! And you know, this is exactly what I saw in my dream from Ursus!"

"You foresaw this?" Durc questioned.

"I saw this one, and at least," he concentrated, then held up one hand with three fingers extended, "this many others, as well! And such a big clan, with many people, some with darker skins, some lighter, all working peaceably together. And the children! So many, all of them playing and chasing and squealing happily, none of them looked ill or hungry. All seemed well-fed and happy."

"Then this is the start of it," Grev gestured judiciously, approaching them with small clean hide squares to dry themselves with. Durc took one and noticed the slight stiffness of another tent, cut to make cloths. The Clan was now so confident of their ability to shelter in the mud cave that they were happy to re-purpose their ragged old travelling tents. "You will soon have a full-sized clan again. Ura and I will travel on to Norg's clan once you are settled in the mud cave, if Broud remains intractable in his opposition to accept people who look a little outside the norm. Ura tells me that there are a few hunters, at least, in Norg's clan, who have no mates and would most likely consider moving here to join you."

"So long as they don't want to take their mates and rejoin Norg's clan," Zorn said.

"You must stipulate that it is a condition of their mating that they join this clan," Brac said. Now clean, he began pulling on clothes quickly; the exertion of the day left them warm enough with only light clothing, but the nights were now uncomfortably chilly, and all were looking forward to being able to sleep in their new warm shelter when it was ready.

"I can do that," Zorn said, then added, "but it is difficult to make such pronouncements when I am not the leader. The people here know that I had almost finished my training as Mog-ur when the fever struck, and are used to following my lead. But I would rather have a strong leader beside me who has been trained and has an aptitude for leading. I am far more comfortable with the spiritual side of our clan's life."

Now his eyes met Brac as he gestured, "My friend, you and yours have done so much for us. And I have observed in you signs that you would make an excellent leader. You think of others and have the best interests of the Clan always in mind. You tell me that your current leader is still hale and healthy and may live for many more seasons yet before deciding to step down, may Great Ursus will it. Would you consider staying here and becoming our leader? Permanently?"

Brac stopped in the act of settling a fur cloak about his shoulders, his mouth open in surprise.

Durc could see that the stoic young man had not contemplated such an offer before and it had momentarily robbed him of speech. In truth, Durc himself felt as surprised. He was used to thinking of Zorn as the leader of this clan, but as he had said, he was trained as a Mog-ur, it was the necessity off fate that had thrown him into the dual role and he was not comfortable with it. It was against all Custom for a Mog-ur to also be leader of a clan.

But Zorn had not yet finished. He turned now to Durc. "And what of you, my friend? You thought of building the mud cave, you have been the guiding force behind its construction. Without your knowledge and foresight, we would have ended up with a pile of mud on the ground, had we had even thought of the idea in the first place! Brac has been trained as a leader from babyhood; but who here in this clan has the knowledge and the finesse to put Brac's orders into solid form, to guide us in implementing them? You are patient and generous with your explanations, taking the time to find working solutions to problems. In you I see an extremely capable Second to the leader."

Grev, always quick to see the humor in any situation, although no less flattered by the sincere offer, put in, "It is perhaps a good thing that my services are already promised to Norg's clan, or I can see that you would have me become your acolyte, Zorn!"

Zorn looked momentarily surprised, before gesturing, "You would be most welcome, Grev! But I still think of myself as an acolyte, rather than a Mog-ur, despite what the rest of my clan say."

As usual, the rest of the depleted clan had been watching the interchange. Some of them were nodding encouragingly to Brac and Durc, in agreement with the opinion of their holy man and urging them to accept. They, too, wanted a permanent leader and second. Departure from Custom always made Clan people insecure and uncomfortable. Having a working clan hierarchy would go far in settling their fears of the future and making them into an efficient unit once more.

Everybody finished dressing and moved to sit on the logs, stones and woven mats around the firepit for their meal. Brac was silent, considering Zorn's offer. He accepted the bowl Igra handed to him, but he had a preoccupied manner as he ate automatically.

Durc likewise felt his mind whirling. It was one thing to dream of being Second to the leader sometime in the future. But to make it official now?

Still, it seemed to him that the position only needed somebody who could think ahead and anticipate what would be needed. He acknowleged that he had that ability and had in fact used it all his life. He didn't know why other people in the clan found it so difficult to synthesize information and innovate in the way he did, and sometimes he had felt frustrated with their reliance on Custom to solve problems, as in the matter with the development and use of efficient throwing spears. For him such concepts were simple, rather like hopping over a small creek. But he had seen the difficulties his clan had, as if the creek were an impassable canyon. While they could learn new concepts, and would never forget them once learnt, they had long ago lost a great deal of their ability to innovate, something which Durc was intrinsically adept at doing.

He had felt a definite fellow-feeling with the Sea Kin. Their way of looking at the world was so compatible with his own. But for his affection for nearly everybody in his clan, but for Brac's offer, he had seriously considered staying with them, even if only as the lowest-ranked hunter, due to his lack of knowledge of fishing.

His musings made him realize just how much he had matured in outlook in the past year, and he rubbed at his thickening beard with a slight smile. Of course he could be Second in this clan! He had certainly been acting as one since they had arrived here, to Brac's leadership, without even thinking about it. The realization was something of a shock.

His thoughts were interrupted as Brac raised his hands to speak and everyone's attention focused on him.

"This man," he began formally, "has been extremely touched by this clan's confidence in him, and I am well aware of the honor given. While I feel that I could take up your offer to lead your clan, still I am hesitant to accept outright. I am still bound by my feelings of…responsibility…to the clan of my birth. I am not refusing, but I would ask that we defer the decision until we have finished building the Mud Cave. I will need to return to Broud's Clan to discuss this with them, since it is a matter which will affect their future as much as my own.

"I have always meant to return to the clan of my birth once I had delivered my brother and his mate to Norg's clan. With winter progressing, we may even have to stay for the season with Norg, if he offers shelter. So I still have some prior responsibilities to be dispensed before I can give you a definite answer, Zorn."

Zorn nodded acknowledgement. "We will discuss it further, Brac. Until you are ready the offer stands, both for you and Durc, and also," here he cast an amused look at Grev, "your brother, should he consent to be my acolyte in truth!" Zorn's expression became serious again. "Once your clan returns, I would be most grateful for the chance to speak to your Mog-ur. There is a ceremony which promotes an acolyte to Mog-ur. If he feels that I am ready, he would perhaps consent to confirming me to the office. I would certainly feel more secure in my mind knowing that I am no longer an acolyte."

"I think there should be no difficulty with Goov," Grev spoke up. "From my experience, you appear to me to be well-trained and further along than I am. I have been glad to have the opportunity to learn with you, Mog-ur."

Zorn shook his head in amusement. "Not Mog-ur yet, Acolyte Grev! But I thank you for your kind words."

Durc felt contradictory emotions at the decision to defer, even for a short while, the decision. Personally he felt ready to take up the challenge, but at the same time it had happened so fast that it had a strange unreal feel to it, like the quality of a dream.

Perhaps, he decided with a yawn as he rolled up in his sleeping furs for the night, it was better to wait. With so much happening in so short a space of time, who knew what the future might bring?

16

The future, by the next morning at least, brought snow. Durc awoke to see snowflakes drifting down. By mid-morning the wind had picked up, making it bitterly cold. The clan shivered as they hurried through the last steps needed to make their mud cave habitable.

Durc suggested to Brac his earlier idea that they use one of the waterproof hide tents to cover the last part of the roof so far not secured, since it would take too long for a new mud roof to dry, particularly in the snow.

Accordingly, the least ragged tent was given a makeover as a roof, with Durc, Bard and Grev standing on supports and staking the edges to the mud walls with spear points driven on a diagonal through the hide and deep into the mud wall. A hole was left in the top to let out smoke from internal fires.

Smaller vents had been left at the top of the wall in places to let in fresh air without sacrificing too much precious warmth.

Pine boughs with their needles left on were cut and laid on top of the tent in a layer to provide extra protection from rain and to help keep the warmth inside, and these were lashed to the wall supports at one end and tied to the central post when Grev climbed up the pole from inside.

Two sturdy branches on either side of the entrance pointed skyward from the walls and a pole was put across this. To the pole the last of the depleted tents was hung in folds, to keep the warmth inside.

Finally the cold, shivering people were able to go in.

It was warm and cosy in the space, thanks to the central fire pit. Large stones that had been brought in previously marked out individual family hearths, each with their own fireplace. There was more than enough room for everybody, and an ample amount of space for storage besides.

Durc went to the hearth he was to share for the time being with Brac and Igra. Laying his sleeping furs down, he scraped at the mud wall of the cave and found it had dried well, it was solidly constructed and resisted his fingernail scratching at it. Not stone, of course, but definitely more than mud.

It was dim inside, lit only by the central fire, augmented by the grey daylight seeping in around the smoke hole, the small vents and the edges of the doorway, but Clan people were used to low light levels in winter.

The storage area did not have much in it as yet. Dried meat and fat sausages were stored there in a rock cairn and some vegetables, grains, seeds and nuts in woven baskets, along with the rolled up hides of the elk and the goat, waiting to be scraped and tanned, and the finished hides of a few animals caught by the clan here during the summer – mainly smaller prey killed with a sling – foxes, rabbits, hares, hamsters.

There was another storage area, outside, a deep hole dug in the ground and lined with stones, to allow meat to be frozen in winter once it was caught. Most of the elk and the goat were stored there, cut into rough pieces until the women had the time to process it fully.

The cave also held wood, a lot of it, collected and stored in a neat pile by the inner back wall. Much of it was from branches cut off the saplings used to make the walls themselves, others wood and logs gathered over the past few days. The woods here were as plentiful as the area around his own cave. And the stream flowed conveniently close.

Beside the wood were some nodules of chalk containing flint, so that tools and weapons could be made in the long cold season when activity slowed, along with hammer stones and various bone pieces and, of course, the massive rack of the elk.

Durc was used to seeing grasses and other materials used to make baskets and floor mats in the cave of his birth, but there were none in the mud cave. There simply hadn't been enough time to gather everything apart from the bare necessities. The clan's few old mats would have to last out the season until more material for the construction of new ones could be collected in summer.

But aside from that, it was a spacious and very comfortably warm cave, able to withstand the cold and the snow and the wind.

Durc was pleased; he had privately worried, what would happen if the roof fell in? What if it leaked badly? What if the walls had not dried enough and just crumbled over the next few days, leaving this clan even worse off than before, having had their hopes raised up only to crash down again?

But his examination of the inside made him feel far more secure – this mud cave was very similar to the ones he had seen in the Sea Kin settlement, although not nearly so nicely finished.

Like the Sea Kin constructions, it was sturdy and even safer than many natural caves of comparable size – one had to be very careful in those that enough fresh air got in to replace that breathed out by the people inside. The Clan had long memories and it was known that in small caves without ventilation and only a small entry, the air quickly become bad and attracted malign spirits. They could induce headache and sickness and had even caused deaths in the past, with some people settling down to sleep at night and never waking up again. So the use of small vents at the top of walls, and smoke holes in the Sea Kin mud caves had been a creative solution to that problem and one that Durc had taken on board readily in the construction of this mud cave...

Zorn's hands clapped deliberately three times for attention, interrupting his musings. He looked towards the acolyte standing by the central hearth. Before the elk hunt, it had been agreed that Bard would have his Manhood Ceremony, if the hunt was successful, at the same time as the new cave was sanctified, for good luck.

The previous Mog-ur had been buried wrapped in his bear cloak of office, so Zorn had no official bear cloak to wear. But his face was marked with the holy red ochre and he wore his ragged old cloak of reindeer hide as if it were the pelt of Ursus himself.

When Zorn was sure he had everybody's attention, he began to gesture, using the ancient fully silent language of the Clan when addressing the spirits and calling for their protection. It was a graceful ballet of hands, facial expressions and body position, as Zorn beseeched the invisible spirits of their totems to gather and protect them.

Watching his confident movements, Durc felt sure that Zorn would have no difficulty in persuading Goov to sanctify him to the position of Mog-ur. His experiences in holding his clan together during the most perilous chapter of their existence spoke volumes as to his strength of purpose. Even though he had no ceremonial bear skin of office to wear, still he was unmistakeably in charge of proceedings. This was no acolyte he was watching, no learning apprentice, but a fully self-assured and confident Mog-ur.

Only when he was sure that the forms had been fulfilled did Zorn again turn his attention to his human audience.

"There is one more ceremony we must perform before we can say that our totems sanctify this cave to live in." He gestured to Seld, who came forward to stand beside him.

With great solemnity, the old man untied a mouflon horn from his belt thong carefully. Bard stepped up beside the man of his hearth and at a gesture from Zorn, knelt, carefully pouring a basket full of dried dirt and ashes taken from the outside fire pit over the fire inside, dousing it completely and patting the dirt with his hands to ensure no stray embers stayed alight.

Oona lifted the tent hanging in the door frame, letting in a little of the waning afternoon light, but also a gust of frigid air which came whirling in, seemingly all the colder because of the contrast with the warmth inside. Through the entrance, it could be seen that the snow had begun to fall again, and all the people gathered inside shivered with more than cold. It had been a near thing, but their new cave had been completed in time for winter!

Now Bard helped the man of his hearth to kneel and handed him tinder in a basket with a ceremonial flourish. Seld picked up the small pieces of wood, layered them with twigs, and quickly had a small, neat pile on the spot where the central fire had been.

He closed his eyes and clutched his amulet for a moment, calling on his totem the Dhole Spirit for assistance, then carefully tipped the mouflon horn over the tinder and a small glowing ember fell out from its protective cushion of dried moss and lichen.

Moving carefully, he leant forward and began to breath on the small ember, until it caught the kindling and bloomed, faded, then bloomed again and suddenly burst into a flicker of flame, which grew. Seld fed it with more kindling and then, when it was obvious that it was burning steadily, he smiled, that strange disconcerting grimace showing the teeth and crinkling the eyes, that Others made to show they were pleased.

"How strange," Durc thought, watching, "when I do that, how odd I must look to the rest of the clan!"

That thought brought to mind Kalli. Like all the Sea Kin, she could smile too, and did so easily. Only when she had smiled, it did not look disconcerting. He remembered fondly how the expression had lit her face, emphasising her beautiful eyes as they shone with fun. He did not realize that his own face had taken on a gentle smile as he remembered…

Zorn raised his hands for attention again. "This ember is from the fire pit outside. It was lit with an ember from the fire before that, and before that, back to the last fire we had in our cave far to the north, before the fever struck and we were forced to leave our home land. This is now our home, the place Great Ursus showed me that we must come. The spirits are happy."

The whole clan experienced a release of tension as the fire took hold and became a strong blaze. It was done, the cave, a mud cave that they had built! was approved of by their totemic spirits, who had returned to them. The spirits were happy in their fine new home and everybody could prosper.

Seld was sitting on a rock. He began to beat a sharp tattoo on a large wooden bowl, turned face down on the ground in front of him. The sound reverberated around the mud cave's confines, echoing slightly, adding to the effect as Bard jumped into the area in front of the flames.

The clan's newest hunter crouched down in the imaginary long grass, peering anxiously through the stalks. Durc joined in, crouching beside him. Brac gave the signal and the watching clan women and children saw the re-enactment of the racing elk herd, saw Durc cast his light spear and then Bard jump up to skewer the animal that had tripped, all told in dramatic pantomime.

And at the very end, Grev joined the others, pretending to struggle under the weight of a rolled goat hide! It added a lighter note to break the solemnity, and Durc could feel the

amusement in the stances and gazes of the watching women.

Then Zorn was facing the new hunter, and the clan settled once more. Zorn began another impassioned appeal to the attendant spirits to bless this ceremony, then, with a suddenness that brought a gasp to a few lips, the magician whipped out a sharp stone knife from a fold of his wrap and held it high over his head. He brought the sharp tool down swiftly, plunging it towards Bard's chest. In a movement that was under absolute control, the Mog-ur carved two quick strokes into the young man's flesh. They were two horizontal curved lines joined in the middle, the likeness of a hunting hawk high in the sky, its wings outstretched as it hovered, searching with sharp eyes for prey.

Bard closed his eyes, but didn't flinch as the knife pierced his skin. Blood welled to the surface and overflowed, spilling down his chest in red droplets. Zorn picked up a bowl of salve made from the rendered fat of the elk mixed with antiseptic ashes. He smeared the black mixture into the wound, stopping the bleeding and ensuring that a black scar would form. The mark announced to all who saw him that Bard was a man, one under the protection of the soaring Spirit of the Hawk.

Later, the clan ate a communal meal inside for once, out of the bitter weather. Everybody was eating rich elk meat and commenting on how good, how rich and tasty it was, to Bard's great pleasure.

As Durc looked around at the small clan, he was pleased to see that everybody was now filling out, their spirits nourished as much as their bodies, now that they had a secure shelter and as much food as they needed. The children in particular had lost the starved, pinched look on their faces, their little bodies plumping up and starting to grow with the regular meals.

For a certainty, the meat they had now would not last the entire winter, but hunters could go out and catch smaller game to supplement the stored meat.

Durc decided, when he came back this way on his return from Norg's Clan, that he would organize a group of the women and take them to the beach one day when the weather was not too chill, and show them how to collect edible shellfish, mussels, oysters and crabs on rocks left behind by the high tide. It had apparently not occurred to them, being an inland tribe previously, that there was such abundance to be had, ready to collect. And perhaps, he thought, when the weather is warmer I can teach them to swim, so that they may dive for edibles in the manner of the Sea Kin...

Zorn had dropped his official manner and had once more become a hunting companion and friend. He gestured one handed as he ate. "I was thinking that in the summertime we should make another mud cave," he commented. "It can be a place of the spirits, for us to have our ceremonies."

"Now that one has been constructed," Brac answered agreeably, "others should present few difficulties. This land is a good land, the only problem seems to be that you needed more hunters than you had. Also, I will talk to Broud when I return. Perhaps he will agree to hunt only the migrating animals going north or east, rather than the ones migrating in this direction. That way the animals coming your way will not have been predated upon and will be less likely to fear humans."

Zorn nodded. "I would be very grateful, my friend. I would also like very much to try to learn to use Durc's lighter spears, if you would consent to teach me."

Bard added, "I also. The traditional heavy spears are good, but a hunter can carry more of the lighter ones as back-up."

They continued talking as the women put the sleepy children to bed, then the men got up and walked to the back of the new cave. A line of heavy stones had been laid across a small space, clearly demarcating it from the rest of the cave, and it was there that they were going to hold their Ceremony.

The women had the front of the cave, and such was the restriction against looking into another's hearth, signified by stones, that it was almost as if the six men had gone into a separate cave.

Oona stepped into the circle of light cast by the fire in the men's hearth. She was completely naked apart from her amulet and streaks of ochre on her body. Circles were painted in ochre about her stomach and breasts, and the paint continued over both shoulders to join in a V at the small of her back. Her buttocks were also heavily protected by the circles of ochre.

At a sign from Zorn, the Medicine Woman held up a bowl and turned to face the watching men.

The Medicine Women of Oona's line had learnt the secret of extracting the psychoactive, magical part of the plant from the seeds of the Belladonna plant. The fluid contained within the bowl consisted of the ground seeds of the berry mixed with water. How much had to be carefully controlled, since the plant was well-known to be highly toxic. Mothers in the Clan often reminded their children not to eat the juicy-looking purple berries of the mature plant.

The Medicine Women of Oona's line knew exactly how much to use, at what stage the berries should be picked, how to prepare, store and grind the tiny seeds, and how much water to add, so that the psychoactive properties of the scopolamine and atropine were maximised while minimising the chance of poisoning.

With great solemnity, Oona knelt and placed the bowl on the ground at Zorn's feet. Zorn likewise knelt and placed a bowl prepared from the leaves of the Belladonna plant next to the first bowl.

The bowls were formally exchanged. Oona picked up the the bowl for the women, keeping her eyes down, backed out of the stone-delineated space and went to the women to deliver the less-potent tea to them for their own ceremony.

Zorn administered the magic drink to the men, giving each a carefully controlled swallow from the bowl.

Durc sat by the fire, staring at it intently as the drink began to take effect. He was sure he wouldn't be able to get into the right state of mind that night for the ceremony, since he was too keyed up after the worry and hard work of the past couple of weeks, but he slipped easily into the dream that took them back to their beginnings.

He still felt the pull of his Other ancestry, but it was becoming noticeably easier to ignore as time went by. He no longer needed a Mog-ur's help to lead him back to the path of his Clan forebears, he could now make the choice himself as to which path to follow. He wondered dreamily what he would see if he ever allowed his mind to follow the path of the Others.

The ceremony lasted an infinity subjectively, and half an hour objectively, and when it was finished, Durc simply curled up in his place beside the others, in the warm mud cave with his fur cloak covering him, and slept, deeply and without dreams.

The fire had gone out. Durc shivered and tried to get more of himself, his feet especially, under cover of his sleeping fur, which seemed to have shrunk overnight. He felt like a lump of ice.

Finally, he forced his eyes open and saw the mud walls of the cave. For a moment he thought he was back with the Sea Kin, and then memory kicked in.

He sat up, wrapping the cloak about him as he did so. The light flickered from the central fire, and Durc saw Bard had stirred up the banked fire there. It was beginning to blaze nicely and Bard was dropping hot stones into a basket to heat the water to make tea. It seemed that he, too, was as capable of learning to cook for himself as Durc was.

The younger man looked up as Durc joined him and gave him that strange smile and a gesture of morning greeting. He nodded towards the women, spread out on the floor where they had dropped after their ceremony, still all asleep.

"What do they do to get so exhausted, do you think?" Bard gestured, handing Durc a cup of mint tea.

Durc took the tea and swallowed gratefully. Ceremonies always left him parched the morning after. "The men looked in the same condition when I woke up. Maybe the women visit memories as we do," he gestured.

"I'm glad I experienced a ceremony," Bard commented. "Things that I used to wonder about make a lot more sense now. Only, I felt Mog-ur come into my head at one point. I felt as if…as if I was lost, I wasn't sure which way to go…? At any rate, Mog-ur showed me the right path to take."

Durc nodded understandingly. "I used to feel that, as well. It will get easier as you gain more experience. At least, it did for me."

"I would be interested to learn more of the mysteries of speaking to the spirits," Bard mused. "Maybe, Zorn will take me on as his acolyte, once he is affirmed as Mog-ur. I feel an affinity for it, now that I have experienced a ceremony." Bard moved companionably to one side of the large mat he was sitting on, inviting Durc with a gesture to join him at the fire.

Durc shook his head ruefully. "I must go outside to pass water, my friend! The sacred drink always affects me like this. But I would be grateful for another cup of tea, if there is any left when I come back."

Yawning, he pushed aside the heavy leather curtain, shivering anew at the temperature outside as his breath plumed out visibly in the icy air. He was mildly surprised to see that the morning was well-advanced, the sun fully clear of the horizon. But then, most people tended to sleep late after a ceremony.

The mist overnight had evaporated off. His leather-shod feet crunched on the icy ground. Indeed they had been lucky to finish the mud cave when they did, Durc mused. To sleep outside now with only a hide tent would be deeply uncomfortable, and for the depleted clan, although now well-fed and regaining their strength, it could even open them up to evil sickness-causing spirits, particularly amongst the children. This clan had had enough of bad luck. They could not afford to lose any more of their people.

Standing by a tree as he attended to business, he yawned again, widely. He finished and covered himself with his wrap and cloak, turned to go back – and froze. For standing just a short distance from the mud cave, leaning on their spears and so quiet that he had not noticed them at first, two handfuls of heavily-cloaked men were watching him silently.

He recognized them at once. Brun, Grod and Berg, son of the mate of Norg, were in the front, and ranged behind them with amused faces were other men he knew vaguely from Norg's clan, one of whom was Cron, the mate of Ura's mother.

Durc recovered his composure and strode towards them with a respectful greeting gesture for the former leader, his former second Grod, and to Berg and Cron, and then nodding in polite

acknowledgement to the other hunters.

He stopped a few paces back from the group when he saw Grod take a step backwards, a fearful look on his face.

"Grod? What is the matter?"

Brun looked at his old friend with a wry glance, then gestured, "He is thinking that you may be a malignant spirit, Durc. He did not see and become accustomed to the mud caves of the Sea Kin as we did all summer. But I had not expected that this clan could make mud caves as they can. Or did you… find it here?" There was just a hint of suspicion in the former leader's stance, showing that he was not entirely comfortable with coming upon a mud cave unexpectedly, either.

Durc suddenly saw the problem and strode forward, clasping Grod's shouder warmly. "Grod! I am indeed Durc, not some spirit! I am the same person you made a short spear for, when you and Brun taught me to hunt as a child! Remember, I used to sleep with it beside me, I was so proud of it! Would an evil spirit know that?"

He was glad to see the stoic old hunter relax somewhat at this evidence of his humanity. Grod stole a sheepish look at Brun. "Well, it seemed unnatural to me," he gestured uncomfortably, "to come upon a riverbank with no river, and see smoke coming out of the top!"

"We could find no caves here for Zorn's clan to shelter in," Durc explained with a shrug. "So we told them about the Sea Kin and they decided to try building their own Mud Cave as the Sea Kin do."

His explanation made it sound so reasonable that all the hunters relaxed. They, too, had been startled by the innovation. Even though they had all spent the last season comfortably inside a mud cave, it was obvious to Durc that none of them would have conceived of actually trying to build such a thing themselves.

Berg turned and made a call, a verbal "Come!" accompanying the sound with a gesture.

From behind trees and rocks, women of Norg's clan appeared, heavily laden with full baskets.

"We had been travelling with Norg's clan on our return journey," Brun said as the women joined them. "When Grod told us of this clan's misfortune and what Brac decided to do, Norg's clan also thought they could spare some supplies. Norg's Medicine Woman suggested that they may need furs, and vegetables and dried fruit and grain."

Durc felt a surge of gratitude – this would round out supplies for the rest of the winter! He beckoned to the group. "Please, come inside out of this chill. Don't be nervous, this is just a mud cave like the Sea Kin build."

People had begun to come out of the mud cave now, and suddenly, there was a cry of "Cron!" and Ura ran past him and hugged the mate of her mother exuberantly. The man looked a little embarrassed at this show of emotion from the former daughter of his hearth in public, but still he patted her on the back, returning the affectionate hug with pleasure.

"Ura." He acknowledged when she had stepped away and resumed the decorous pose expected of a woman of the Clan. "I decided to come here to see you. Your mother is there," he added, indicating the women.

Ura walked to her mother more sedately, and when the woman had put down her burden, hugged her as well, with a little more decorum.

"Norg has gone on ahead with the rest of our clan," Berg informed Durc and those people who had come out of the cave. "But we decided to make this side trip."

They all trooped inside into the warmth gratefully. With the addition of the newcomers, the interior of the mud cave felt rather cramped, where before it had been spacious. But nobody minded, all gathering around the central firepit and warming themselves, hands spread towards the welcome heat.

Brun was looking around appreciatively. "This looks as sturdy as the one we shared at the Sea Kin clan," he remarked to Brac and Grev, who had come to greet the former leader respectfully.

"Durc had the idea," Brac told him. "Grev and I just followed his instructions. And I think perhaps the mud caves of the Sea Kin were neater than ours! But it is as warm as a good cave, and as comfortable. I can attest to that after having spent last night sleeping inside it."

Brac made the introductions, and as the newcomers settled down around the firepit, tea was poured for every member.

Brun took a cup of the steaming brew from Oona. He took a sip, and Durc could see that he had something on his mind which he wished to tell them, and was looking for the right way to do it. With a sinking feeling, he thought that perhaps it was to tell him that Broud would refuse him entry back into the clan.

It was Brac who broke the impasse. "How did Broud take Grev mating Ura, rather than Durc?" he ventured.

Brun breathed out in a long sigh. "Not well. Not well at all. I know the son of my mate has a temper, but…" He shook his head. "I had thought he had learned more self-control. But when he found out, he physically attacked Mog-ur!"

"He did what?" Brac exclaimed.

"Is Mog-ur all right?" Grev asked anxiously at the same time.

Brun nodded. "Yes. Mog-ur is only a few seasons older than Broud. They were friends growing up. Mog-ur was surprised, but he was able to fend Broud off until some of the other hunters could intervene and he had calmed down. But he is holding Mog-ur responsible for the whole thing. He claims that Mog-ur tricked him. I and Droog and some of the others witnessed the night when Mog-ur tried to tell him what was happening, and Broud refused to listen. Broud cannot claim that Mog-ur did anything wrong. He did exactly as Broud told him to do."

Durc kept his expression neutral with an effort. Since when had that ever stopped Broud from believing whatever he wanted? Appeals to logic and Custom just made him angrier, more certain that he was in the right. He would double down and claim that night was day and winter was summer simply because he said it was so. For a people who could not lie, Broud showed an amazing ability to believe that truth was whatever it was that he, personally, had decided. And he used intimidation and his position of power to get others to agree with him, even if it was against their better judgement.

Durc had been exposed to many clan leaders this past summer, people who knew how to negotiate and rule, autocratic certainly, but always with the welfare of their clan uppermost in mind. Now that he had examples to compare him with, Durc believed that Broud was the worst leader he had ever seen – brash, boastful and greedy for power. The welfare of his clan would always come in a poor second place for Broud.

"However," Brun continued, "Broud has maintained the grudge throughout our whole journey back. He says that Grev is no longer welcome in the clan." He looked at Brac sadly. "And he also said…that you, Brac, are no longer the son of his hearth. He said that you are not to return. Ever."

Brac stared at the former leader in shock. "What…but…but why? Why would he say that?"

Brun shook his head. "Because he says you should have stopped Grev from mating, as the older brother it was your responsibility and you failed in your duty of care. Broud said," and here Brun glanced quickly at Ura apologetically, "that you, Brac, should have killed Grev before letting him mate with a woman who, um … with Ura."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "he also says that if you try to return he will have Mog-ur Curse all three of you, Brac, Grev, and Durc, with Death." Brun glanced at Durc. "Apparently he has the idea that it was you, Durc, who persuaded both the sons of his mate to follow this course. I would have not believed such a thing were possible, but he seems to mean it."

Grev was shaking his head sadly. "I knew that I would probably have to go to live in Norg's clan. But I never dreamed that Broud would disown Brac! He's the future leader!"

"And how can Broud justify Cursing Brac with Death?" Durc asked, outraged at the idea. He had expected and accepted the idea that something similar would be done to him, but to hear that Broud could do such a thing to the two sons of his mate, one of them the heir apparent, was appalling and against all Custom.

Brun sighed heavily, looking downcast. "When has Broud ever needed a pretext?" he gestured bleakly, and Durc remembered that it was Broud who had Death Cursed his mother, on the smallest of grounds. Ura had told him all about it, in the privacy of their hearth where Ayla's name could be mentioned in relative safety.

"That's why Grod and I came here to see you, to deliver this message," Brun continued. "For Broud has let it be known that anybody having anything to do with this clan will be Cursed." He lifted his chin defiantly. "But I will not be cowed by the son of my mate, I go where I wish. I have earned that right, at least, as has Grod."

Zorn had been watching the conversation closely, and now he spoke up. "What has he got against my clan?" he asked.

Brun made a gesture indicative of begging his pardon for insult. "I think it is only because Durc, Brac and Grev came here to offer assistance. He claims that they took stores which our clan will need for the winter."

All three young men began to gesture in protest. Grod spoke up, to quell them. "I saw them take nothing that we could not spare," he affirmed to Brun. "Our cave was well-stocked, we used hardly any of it over the summer. There is still more than enough for all. Even if we had twice as many people, none would go hungry with what was stored."

Brun was nodding his agreement. "I know. I also know that you, Brac, would never take more than we could safely spare. But Broud is so very angry, he is simply looking for a chance to hurt you, I think. And what better way than to refuse to allow you to come home, and eventually to take up your responsibility as leader once Broud retires?"

"My offer to you still stands, Brac," Zorn gestured. "This clan would be honoured to have you as our new leader. And Durc, as second, if you accept."

Brac shook himself, as if shedding water, accepting that he could not go home. He turned to Durc, the question in his body language.

Durc took a deep breath, then nodded slowly, adding a slight pushing motion by the fingers of one hand. It is all we can do, I will accept your decision, the simple gesture indicated.

Brac glanced at his mate, standing nearby watching, her face pale.

"My place is with you," Igra gestured quickly.

Brac turned to Zorn. "Zorn, I accept the honour of becoming leader of your clan, with my brother-hunter Durc as my second in command. I am grateful and humbled by your trust in me, young and untried as I am, and I will do everything in my power to live up to it."

Zorn's relief was evident as he beamed at both Brac and Durc. "I am grateful to you beyond measure for your acceptance," he gestured. "This man has led up to now, not at all comfortable with the notion of a Mog-ur, not even yet confirmed in that position, leading this clan. To have one trained from birth, as you have been, to lead, is more than I could ever have wished for!"

He turned to Grev. "And what of you, Grev? You have no need to travel on with Norg's clan now. I would be more than happy to have you stay and complete your training with me."

Grev hesitated, and Durc could see that he was torn. But then he glanced at Ura who was sitting and watching the conversation silently, her eyes intent. Durc could see his gaze soften as Grev's eyes met those of his new mate, and he turned back to the group.

"I am honoured that you would extend your invitation to me," he said gravely. "But I have decided it is best to go with Norg's clan to their Cave. Their Mog-ur has already placed his trust in me on the proviso that I would do so if I was unable to return to Broud's clan. That being so, I and Ura will continue on with them when they leave this clan."

Zorn nodded regretfully. "You will be very welcome if ever you decide to change your mind," he said. "If there is ever anything we can do, if you ever have anything that you need, then we will offer you whatever help we can. You and your companions have saved us."

He looked formally back at Brac, then stood. The eyes of all were on the young Mog-ur as he held his arms aloft for attention. Gracefully, he made the fully silent motions asking the spirits to attend them. Brac and Durc also got to their feet, facing him.

"This clan is now delivered into the care of Brac, formerly of Broud's clan, and protected by the Spirit of the Cave Hyena," Mog-ur gestured. "His Second is Durc, formerly of Broud's clan, protected by the Spirit of the Grey Wolf. May Great Ursus look upon Brac's clan with favour and continue to protect and guide us into the future."

17

People of the newly-formed Brac's clan were clustered around Grev and Ura. The small contingent from Norg's clan was going to proceed from this place and rejoin the others on their journey home and Grev and Ura were travelling with them.

Durc was in the midst of them when he caught Brun's eye. The former leader of Broud's clan made a slight gesture requesting Durc to speak with him in private. Durc walked across, wondering what more there was to be said.

Brun had a large basket at his feet, its top tightly tied down. As Durc approached, Brun knelt and untied the knot holding it closed, lifting the lid to reveal something softly silver, shimmering in the chilly air. Brun lifted it reverently, shaking it out gently and holding it up.

It was a fur, as pure white as a fox in winter, but so much more of it, far bigger than any fox. Letting the soft supple folds settle back down into the basket, Brun released his grip and signed to Durc, "Here is the fur of Ursus in his winter aspect. The hosting clan, the Sea Kin, have the honour of keeping his skull. But you were the one who dealt the killing blow that sent Ursus back to his home amongst the spirits. The clans met and decided that you should have this fur, Durc. It was an almost unanimous decision amongst the leaders and the Mog-urs. There was only one dissenting vote."

Durc glanced quickly at Brun's face, and knew who had cast the dissenting vote. "I would have thought Broud would be happy to have such a fur to add to his clan's status," he commented dryly.

Brun grimaced. "I think he had already decided to cast you out of the clan over Grev's mating," he said.

Durc knelt and picked up the luxurious fur. It had been tanned, the women must have carried it with them and worked on it at night when they camped, and he felt humbled by the work that had gone into it. It was beautifully supple and he couldn't resist the temptation to throw it over his shoulders. The warmth of the beautiful silvery fur enveloped him and he closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his fear as he had been pinned by the great beast. It felt more like the vague memory of a nightmare, one which he was glad to have woken up from, but with no more power to harm him now than a bad dream. And what a reward!

"I thank you for bringing this to me, Brun," Durc said. "I know it must have cost you when Broud found out that you intended to give it to me."

Brun put one hand on his shoulder affectionately. "He doesn't know I brought it, I refrained from mentioning where Grod and I were going when we left with Norg's clan. He probably thought we were going to walk a short way with them, then return. And he did not see us take the fur. The women of Norg's clan were carrying many bundles with them. What was one more basket?"

"Oh." Durc looked down at the lustrous fur covering him. "Are you sure you should leave it here? I know what Broud's temper is like…"

Brun drew himself up to his full height, with all the dignity of a previous leader. "The day I cannot face the wrath of the son of my mate at his worst, that is the day I travel to the spirit world!" he declared.

He hesitated, and it was plain to Durc that he had something else on his mind, but was unsure how to begin. Durc waited patiently.

At last, Brun said, "Before I leave, I have something else to tell you. We and Norg's clan left the Sea Kin at the same time. And because both our clans travel east, we naturally walked and camped together. But…we seem to have crossed paths with a malignant spirit…"

"What do you mean, Brun?"

Brun looked very ill at ease. "Something strange happened after we left. You know that Berg, son of the mate of Norg, has a mate?"

Durc nodded. "Yes, Rashi. She is of the Sea Kin originally."

"Yes. We had stopped to camp one night by a creek. It was a well-wooded, rocky area and the men went off singly to try and find some fresh meat to add to the evening meal while the women and children gathered wood amongst the trees. I heard a piercing scream and Rashi came running out of the woods as if a Cave Lion was after her. She had been badly frightened; it seemed that she had wandered a little way from the other women and bent to pick up a stick. A stone had whizzed past her head and hit a tree trunk, just where she had been standing! I went to look at the tree, and a stone was still embedded in the bark of the trunk at head-height. If she hadn't bent over when she did, it could have hit her."

"A stone?" Durc asked, puzzled.

"Like a stone from a sling, the same general size and shape."

"Could one of the hunters have cast without seeing her, perhaps?"

Brun shook his head. "It seems highly unlikely. Which hunter would be so careless? Still, when all the hunters had gathered back at the campsite, Broud asked them if they had seen anything unusual. None of them could recall seeing anything out of the ordinary."

"And did Rashi not say she saw who had cast the stone?"

"No, she was too frightened to stop and look. When the stone hit the trunk she just ran. Understandably. She showed us a bruise on her hip – just after she began to run another stone had grazed her. She had a nasty big black mark to show for it. I noticed that she was limping on it the next day, it was obviously painful to her. It was such a strange thing to happen. I tell you so that you may be on the lookout for malign spirits. Mog-ur says that sometimes they trail after groups of travelling humans, trying to cause trouble. I hope we did not attract them here, it sounds as if this clan has had troubles enough already.

'And …I hesitate to say this, but you should know of it, since you were born to our clan. There is bad feeling between Mog-ur and Broud. They were friends as boys, not great friends, like you and Grev, but amiable enough. But now it seems that Broud has embarked on a deliberate campaign of belittling Mog-ur and questioning everything he says. You may have noticed it when we stayed with the Sea Kin. I have spoken to Broud and he denies that is the case, just that he wishes to 'clarify' certain questions, as a leader should. But Mog-ur sees it differently. I do, as well."

Brun frowned, such dissension disturbed the former leader's mind. "It is unheard of for a Mog-ur and the leader of a clan to be so at odds! They are both powerful, but it is for the ultimate good of the clan. If they should disagree, I would expect them to be more respectful and find ways around any problem that satisfies all. Mog-ur, to his credit, still follows Custom. But Broud does not. He talks a lot about the need to follow Custom, but he is too headstrong, in my view, always wanting his own way, flouting Custom if it gets in his way and disrespectful of Mog-ur. Particularly after he learned of Grev mating with Ura and leaving for Norg's clan. He was so angry about that, he said that it was against all Custom for a man to leave and live with his mate's clan, it has always been the other way. But it has not always been done that way, and when Mog-ur pointed it out to him Broud only became worse.

'But that was not the real problem – I believe it was because Mog-ur had allowed and carried out the mating at all. The fact that I and several other hunters witnessed Mog-ur trying to discuss it with Broud, and he ignoring it, only made him more vituperative. Broud will never admit to being in the wrong. The whole clan is unsettled by this…this undercurrent of constant dissension. And I am afraid that I don't know what to do about it. I am no longer leader, and … I regret the day that I stood down and made the son of my mate leader. He has never learned to curb himself, to put the needs of his clan over his own childish wants."

Durc was speechless. He had never heard the proud old former leader criticise the son of his mate so openly. But Brun had not finished.

"I am glad that Grev is leaving with Norg's clan," Brun gestured heavily. "I will miss the young man, he was always like a bright spot of sunlight shining on the cave wall on a winter's day, with his merry face and happy nature. And Brac! I wish he had been the son of my mate, he has grown into a man, a leader, that I can be truly proud of. As for you, Durc, you may be young to be second to Brac, but I can see that you think of others before yourself, you have become a man to be sure, one that I am glad to have helped train, in however small a way. It is such a great pity that you three, the flower of our youth, have left - we are the poorer for it. But I think it is for the best. Broud would have you all Cursed with Death rather than accept you back now. I hope you will be content here, and prosper."

Brun glanced over Durc's shoulder at the party behind them, at the portion of Norg's clan regrouping, ready to move off again. "And I had better go now too. Although I don't doubt I will see you and Brac again, our clans are too close, despite what Broud says, to stop me from visiting now and then. Who is to say that a man is not merely setting out hunting? So long as I can make the trip in one day, I can simply refrain from mentioning where I actually went."

He turned to gaze at Durc, his expression appraising, then nodded. "I believe you will be a good second to Brac. You remind me of your mother. Of Ayla. I gained a lot of respect for her in the years that she lived with us. She always thought of others before herself."

Norg's group, with Grev and Ura, had disappeared to the east and Brun and Grod had departed to the west. Durc stood by the door of the Mud Cave for some time. The interior had warmed enough that fresh air and daylight was welcome and the leather at the door-frame was looped up and tied back.

Durc stood quietly, staring outside and thinking. Such a lot had happened in the few short hours since he awoke, he needed time to reflect on it all. He still had the beautiful fur of Ursus draped about him as Zorn walked across to him.

"That is a most beautiful hide," Zorn signed to Durc as he approached. "I was not sure it was Ursus at first, but before he left Grev assured me that it was indeed Ursus in his winter Aspect. The living animal must have been beautiful."

Durc nodded, still deep in his thoughts. "Yes, beautiful. But awesome and terrifying at the same time. I still cannot understand how I could have managed to be in the position to slay him."

Zorn nodded understandingly – Grev had told everybody who would listen about how Durc had been the one to send the bear back to the spirit world. "Ursus chooses, humans cannot. Great Ursus chose you to live that day. There must have been a reason that we cannot ascertain. I am only glad that you did survive. Otherwise we would still be shivering in our tents now, trying to keep the children warm and eating clover."

Durc glanced at the earnest face of the young Mog-ur. He had no doubt that Zorn would convince Goov to confirm his status. In all ways Zorn looked like an ordinary man from any ordinary clan. His hair was fairer than any apart from Durc's, a light shade of sandy blonde, but it was well-known in the clan that people tended to lighter hair and skin colouring the closer one got to Ice Mountain in the north, and every person in this clan had hair of a lighter shade than the people Durc was used to in Broud's clan.

Zorn's beard was pale as well, with a faint hint of red, but still well within the normal limits of the northern clans. Like the others of this northern clan, they also tended to have paler eyes than was the tendency in the southern clans – Zorn's eyes were a pale blue. There was no trace of any Other ancestry, Zorn was in all ways a normal-looking man of a northern clan.

But despite his ordinary appearance he had single-handedly kept his remnant people going and led them here to just the right place for Brac, Grev and Durc to meet him. Truly his steps must have been led by Ursus.

However, even though Zorn had abilities and the look of one dedicated to the holy life of the clan, he had no fur of office, nothing but an old reindeer cloak, clean but tattered, to mark his position.

Durc sighed, running the luxuriant hide of Ursus one last time, regretfully, between his fingers. He seemed to have spent much time recently trying to do what was right, rather than what he would personally want.

He shrugged the cloak off and held it out to Zorn. Zorn's eyes widened and he backed up a step.

"I want you to have this," Durc gestured with one hand, urging the man to take it. "You are the Mog-ur of my new clan, and a Mog-ur needs to have a cloak made of the hide of Ursus."

"Durc…no! You do me too much honor – it was you who earned it!"

"Yes. I was the one who Ursus decided upon, he led me here and I think it was his wish that I was to become Second to Brac as leader. And I want you to take this cloak to signify your status, Zorn...I mean, Mog-ur. With you wearing this cloak, and with Brac as acknowledged leader, we are once more a fully-functioning clan. Please, Mog-ur," Durc entreated him, as the young man made to demur again, "Ursus chose me and I choose to give it to you. Wear it with pride, to show your status. If it were not for you, this clan would not exist now."

Zorn gave in, taking the offered fur with wide eyes. Shrugging off his old reindeer cloak, he flung the bear hide about his shoulders. As the hide enveloped him, it was as if a change came over the bearing of the man – he finally looked the part of a true Mog-ur, a holy man from a prosperous and well-governed clan. But no other Mog-ur had such a beautiful silver coat of office.

Durc smiled, knowing that this clan, thanks to its inclusion of Bard and Seld, knew what the grimace meant, and that he did not need to hide his expression from any here. It was a relief to be able to smile without censure, not having to think about every expression before letting it cross his face. He nodded once in satisfaction. "That is better. Now our clan is complete!"

18

The winter settled in with a vengeance, freezing cold winds and blizzards soon coated the mud cave in an insulating blanket of snow, and the front entrance had to be shovelled clear of the piles using a palmate deer antler before people could venture out to pass their waste, use the midden, or gather more wood from the huge pile left outside to replenish the hearthfires.

Stones were hastily scattered over the mud at the front entrance. Upon this bed of stones was laid a thick grass mat, so that people could get in and out safely without slipping and tracking freezing slush inside.

Thanks to being on the coast, the sea provided some measure of warmth not to be found further in the interior, so the snow did not get more than around hip deep when people went outside. It was enough to be a nuisance, but since the air vents left around the roof of the mud cave were not covered, the people did not bother to clear the snow off the walls, only concentrating on ensuring that the door was kept clear.

Tracks in the snow became permanent, leading to outside storage caches or the wood pile, or other places people frequented during the day. Nobody liked to venture out too often though, hurried trips only. But despite everything, all the bitter weather that Ice Mountain could throw against them, the people of Brac's clan prospered, snug, warm and well-fed in their shelter.

Stories were told, oral histories relived to instruct and remind the children, and people had time to settle to projects they had been too busy with the business of survival to do previously.

Thanks to the generosity of Norg's clan, they now had ample supplies to be comfortable. Leather and furs were processed, weapons were made, cloaks and wraps repaired, grass mats woven and shoes waterproofed. People relaxed into the slower pace of winter.

The children thrived, their bodies now filled out with regular high-quality food, growing at an amazing rate.

And Durc found that he was now mature enough that he needed to relieve his needs. Often.

This was not a problem, since there were so many unmated women in this clan, he did not need to go through the preliminaries of requesting a woman's services through her mate. Durc had a definite preference for a young woman named Enna, she was small, young and comely, with a pleasant countenance and somehow more approachable than some of the older women to a young man still unsure of his needs and settling in to his new status as Second.

He also was drawn to Oona, having a lot of respect for Medicine Women in general, but even though she served his needs well, the first mating in the new clan was between Oona and Zorn, putting her off-limits due to the nominal isolation period. Zorn's totem was of course Ursus, but his birth totem had been the caribou. Oona's baby girl had the same totem, and Durc doubted that old Seld or Bard's spirits had been involved in overcoming Oona's Marmot totem. Durc thought it far more likely the baby was the result of Zorn's strong totem defeating Oona's.

So it was to Enna that Durc usually went, and she was so sweet-natured that he seriously considered taking her as a mate, particularly when she became pregnant and it meant that she would need a mate so that her child would not be born unlucky.

Durc waited one morning until Igra went with the women to collect some wood from the pile outside, and then approached Brac. The leader was chipping some flint for a knife. Durc sat down cross-legged beside him.

"Brac," he began, feeling a little nervous, "I have been thinking that I would like to take a mate. I have enjoyed staying at your hearth so far, but I feel it is time."

Brac looked up at him, pleased. "That is good news, Durc! This clan needs more of our women mated, and if you and Bard both are mated, we will not need so many men from Norg's clan in the spring!"

"Bard is getting mated?" Durc asked, surprised at the news.

"Yes, he came to see me at my hearth yesterday."

Durc recalled the young man sitting talking to Brac earnestly, but the usual custom of politely averting one's eyes from the hearth of another had prevented him from knowing what it was they were so earnestly discussing.

"Did you know that Enna is pregnant?" Brac continued.

"Y-es," Durc said, beginning to get an inkling of where this might be heading.

"Bard and Enna are a good match, they've known each other since they were children and get on well together. Bard requested Enna be given to him as his mate, now that he is a man."

"Oh!" Durc was left floundering. Despite Bard's status as a man, Durc still tended to think of him as a boy. But come to think of it, he now had a patchy beard and his voice had deepened. He also had started making the sign to both Enna and other women to relieve his needs. "Well, yes, umm, but I didn't think he was wanting a mate yet…"

"No, he was quite definite about it. And I have no objections to the mating. Enna will need a hunter to provide for her and her child, and to train him, if it is a boy, in hunting. Bard showed a strong arm on his manhood hunt, I think it will work out well. And of course, Seld will stay at their hearth. Who were you thinking of for a mate, Durc? Amah has no children as yet, unless you wish to mate with one who already has a child to bring to your new hearth?"

Durc was flummoxed. "I had thought of Enna myself," he admitted, feeling sheepish.

"Oh! Durc, I'm sorry," and Brac looked it, "but I have already given my permission to Bard. I can't go to him and refuse now." He hesitated, then added, "Well, actually I could. But I won't, because it wouldn't be the right thing to do. I am sorry, truly."

Durc shook his head. "No, no, it's all right." He shrugged, trying to make light of it. "I'm not disappointed, exactly. I thought Enna would make a good mate. But since Bard has already shown his interest, I will hold off for a while and consider some of the others. They are all good Clan women, I'm sure one will suit me."

"Take all the time you need," Brac motioned. "I am happy to have you stay at my hearth with Igra and I for as long as you wish, until you are sure. And you should be sure before you mate," Brac added. "I am content with Igra, we suit each other very well. But if a couple are poor mates, it can lead to an unhappy hearth, and sour the well-being of an entire clan. I would like you to be as content as I am, when you do mate. It is not a matter to be rushed into."

As the winter progressed, more and more oral histories were enacted, both for entertainment and as an aid to get the children used to accessing the memories stored in their capacious brains. It amused Durc to see children sitting on their mother's laps, as he had done with both Ayla and later Uba, raptly watching some enthralling re-enactment.

Durc himself enjoyed telling stories from his old clan. He found that the legend of Durc, the originator of his name, was not as common in this clan from the north, although it had been

heard of it was not as often told. Consequently the watchers listened with close attention when he told it in dramatic pantomime.

When he acted out the story of his manhood hunt, he was gratified at the expressions on the listeners' faces. But what was more, he heard a strange aspirating sound coming from Seld, and realized that the old man was laughing, his head thrown back in delight at the funny story, slapping his thigh with one hand as he got the joke.

Bard also chuckled, looking down as if slightly embarrassed, but the rest of the clan were tolerant of their elder's idiosyncracies and indeed appeared happy that he was. Durc could not stop himself from smiling when he heard Seld and Bard; the sound of laughter was something he had grown used to amongst the Sea Kin and he didn't realize how much he had missed it until now.

And of course, the legend of Brac and Ayla had been unknown to this clan previously. It added extra piquancy to the unique tale when the children realized that it was about their own current leader!

Even old Seld could sometimes be persuaded to act out his own history of his attraction to Irai and his joining with the clan so that he could take her as his mate. It was a beautiful bitter-sweet story, of respect and love across cultures, and the story usually ended with the birth of Bard. All heads would turn to gaze at Bard after the story finished, and the self-effacing young man would look down, uncomfortable with the attention. But this was also a part of the shared history of this clan. Once seen, never forgotten.

The mating of Bard and Enna took place, and the new young couple spent their two weeks of isolation at a hearth at the back of the mud cave.

The long slow winter eventually succumbed to spring and the clan burst out of their mud cave with renewed vigour as the snow melted and the first buds appeared on the trees. Oona was kept busier treating people with colds due to going outside with inadequate clothing in the warming days of spring than she had been in the freezing winter.

As the season waxed and the sun soaked up the moisture, the pace of the clan's life increased. The slow quiet winter telling stories, or making implements and weapons, gave way to the busy active bustle of spring. Women went foraging to collect the first green shoots and buds, and the men exercised and practised to prepare for the first major hunt of the new season.

But from the starved and pitiful remnant of a refugee people that it had been, this clan now seemed unrecognisable. They still had a large imbalance of men to women, but four active young hunters could still manage to catch enough prey for their needs. Durc began to instruct Bard, Zorn and Brac in the use of the thrown hunting spear. Of the hunters, Bard found the new spear easiest to master. His arm had the required dexterity at the shoulders to be able to manage to hurl it accurately and with strength, but Durc knew that the others just needed practice. Grev, after all, had demonstrated that it was entirely possible for a Clan man to throw a spear with both force and accuracy. That ability had saved Durc's life when he had been chased by Ursus.

The whole clan had spent a fine, warm day in early spring on the coast, gathering seafood from rocks and pools as the tide went out on the beach. Fresh fish and crustaceans were caught, along with a basket piled high with bivalve molluscs taken from the rocks. Durc had even ventured into the water for a brief dip and found that he still remembered how to swim, from his lessons with Kalli last summer.

However, he did not stay in long – the water was still bitterly cold and did not encourage him to linger.

When they arrived back at their mud cave in the late afternoon, their baskets heavy with seafood of various kinds, they found to their surprise that they had visitors. A fire had been lit outside the mud cave, in a communal area that they had begun using lately as the weather warmed, and a handful of men were sitting around it.

As the clan approached, the men saw them and stood up nervously, and Durc saw some faces he recognised from Norg's clan. One man in particular he remembered well – it was Rog, the young hunter whom Durc had bested in the sling-casting competition. Rog met Durc's eyes and gave an acknowledging nod. It was polite and respectful, and Durc sensed no hostility there.

Brac strode up to them with a pleased expression. "Gond!" he addressed one of the men he knew with pleasure. "It is good to see you again! And this is Rog, I remember you from the competitions! And this is …er…"

Rog stepped forward to speak for the group. "This is Goud and Verg," he gestured to each man as he said their names. "And this is Bool, mate of my mother."

"I welcome you to our clan," Brac gestured formally. "Please feel free to accept our hospitality."

Rog answered, "We thank you for your hospitality, Brac. We wanted to know, if your clan still needs strong hunters, if the offer to join you is still open? We know of your Mog-ur's stipulation that if we take mates here, we should join your clan rather than take our mates back with us, and we agree whole-heartedly to that. Our clan has very few women of mateable age, and I, Bool, Gond, Goud and Verg, we all need mates. We visited here when we came past last winter, you will remember?

'After spending the previous summer in the mud caves of the Sea Kin, we discussed it with Norg, and we have no qualms about living in your mud cave, if you would have us."

"You all are very welcome!" Brac said heartily. "As you can see, my clan has few hunters and although we can manage, I will be grateful for the addition of strong hunters!"

The five newcomers relaxed at the welcome. Durc eyed them curiously. They were all quite young, apart from Bool, who appeared to be middle-aged. Durc recalled the man from last summer with the Sea Kin. His mate had been sickly with the coughing disease and she had died during the early days of the ceremony. The son of his mate was Rog, standing beside him. All five were medium-ranked hunters of Norg's clan, by no means high up in status but adequate. And he also remembered that Bool had been a flint-knapper, placing highly in the competition of the skill during the summer.

"We were saddened to leave Norg's clan," Rog continued. "But we decided that it was better for us to travel here to a friendly clan who could use us, rather than stay at home when they already have more than enough hunters to satisfy their needs."

Brac nodded. He turned to Durc. "This is my Second, Durc. You will probably remember him from last summer? And this is our Mog-ur. These are Seld and Bard, our other hunters."

"Who could forget Durc?" Rog gestured warmly. "He beat me fairly in the sling-casting competition, and was so nearly chosen for the honour of accompanying Ursus to the spirit world. You saved the life of one of our own, Durc, and we are indebted." Turning back to address Brac, he continued, "We would be happy to accept you as our leader, Brac, and Durc as your Second. We wish only to have mates and children at our hearths. It is galling not to have your own hearth and a mate of your own. If you will have us, we are eager to stay."

The women began to bustle about, preparing an evening meal outside over the open fire with the fresh seafood gathered that day. As the newcomers settled down around the fire, Durc looked at them all musingly.

He turned to Mog-ur, sitting beside him. "With these more hunters we will be a good sized clan!" he said.

Mog-ur nodded consideringly. "Yes. But I feel our mud cave will become a little cramped with five more people! We will have need of your skills to build another this summer, Durc."

"I will do so gladly. With perhaps a smaller one for ceremonies?"

Mog-ur nodded happily.

The gossip around the fire lasted long into the night. As the stars wheeled overhead and the moon rose, Durc enquired as to how Grev and Ura fared. He was told that Grev had happily settled into Norg's clan as acolyte to their Mog-ur, and Ura was pregnant with her first child.

The men had left Norg's clan as soon as the season had eased enough to permit travel. They were eager for mates, and indeed, one after the other of the men had requested a woman of their choice to accompany them outside the circle of the firelight to relieve their needs. When they returned afterwards to the fire, each new couple seemed content with the choice and sat beside each other.

And Durc suddenly realized that, yet again, he was the odd man out, with no mate! He felt a dip of dismay, realizing that he should have said something earlier, should have decided on one or other of the available women as his mate.

He hadn't realized just how highly-valued a mate would be to a long-term unmated man, that the number of women had been calculated precisely to the number of men in this bachelor group, and he was once again left without a mate of his choice!

Durc glanced at Bard and Enna, sitting contentedly together by the fire across from him, sipping tea. Enna was clearly showing the life that was stirring within her now. What a pity he had waited so long before speaking up! He resigned himself. Surely there were other women of mateable age, not in the direction of Norg's clan, obviously. Not in Broud's clan either, although that was a moot point, seeing as he was not allowed to return there.

But the Sea Kin were not an insurmountable distance away. Yet how could he leave Brac and his new clan, his new position? He valued it highly and also realized that the people of this clan needed him, if nothing else, as the expert in building mud caves!

But perhaps, he thought, come summer, he could be spared to travel fast and light to the Sea Kin and ask for Kalli to be his mate? He felt sure that Toll and Jorg would agree to the mating, especially now with his new status. And Brac would be pleased to add to his growing clan. Durc hoped that it would make Kalli happy, as well.

The thought cheered him. He could think of no other woman he would prefer to have as his mate than her, with her warm brown eyes, her beautiful dark skin and her thick black curls. She would probably be a woman now, she had not been far off when they left.

And his new maturity let him see with understanding all the hints she had dropped during the summer of her preference for him. He felt foolish thinking back. What a child he had been, that he hadn't realized back then what she had been offering to him!

Yes, he decided. Once summer was here and they were well started on the new mud cave, he would ask Brac for leave and bring Kalli back with him as his mate by autumn!

The only problem that bothered him now was, would she have been given as mate to some other man? She was comely and lively and eminently mateable, a good match for any hunter. He really didn't want to think that. He had warm feelings of affection for Kalli, more than he had felt for anybody else. He wanted her, more than anything, to be his mate.

He tried to put the problem of her possible mating another before he got there to the back of his mind, but the thought niggled at him. He wasn't going to miss out again, not with Kalli! Maybe he could persuade Brac to let him leave earlier? If he left soon, he could reach the Sea Kin before summer.

He made up his mind. He would go to Brac in the morning with his decision. He could leave within a few days, in that case.

19

It was difficult to get to speak privately to Brac the next morning about leaving for the Sea Kin settlement. Too many people were about, and with the addition of the new hunters to their clan it was taking a lot of Brac, Durc and Mog-ur's time sorting out the arrangements for their inclusion, the rearrangement of the hearths, the status of the new hunters and their new positions within the admittedly small group of hunters of the existing clan. Mog-ur was in his element, thinking of the ceremonies he would perform, and Durc came to realize that Brac had a clever administrative brain when it came to making decisions on status and arranging it so that no man would feel offended or undervalued.

But at last, just after the midday meal, Durc asked Brac if he could speak to him alone. They left the outside communal fire and walked up the incline to the top of the small rise around their mud cave. This gave a view to the west across a lightly-treed plain. And trudging through the mud and new greenery, Durc and Brac could see a group of people walking towards them.

The two young men glanced at each other and without a word started jogging towards the newcomers.

As they approached, the figures resolved into people they knew well: four adults from Broud's clan. Borg was in the lead, with Grod and Droog following him closely, and Oga walking in the middle of the group. There was one other, Eda, Oga's daughter. The child was currently riding on the strong shoulders of Droog, her eyelids drooping tiredly as she rested her cheek on top of the toolmaker's head, her little hands loosely around his neck.

Even at a distance, it was obvious to Durc and Brac that the four adults were deeply concerned about something, their body language tight and their expressions set. On all four adult's faces, grief was deeply etched.

And now they could also see that Oga had been beaten. It was obviously not badly enough to keep her from walking, but it explained why little Eda was being carried by Droog. For Oga's right arm was splinted and in a sling. A big bruise had bloomed over one eye and her lower lip was split. There were two more nasty bruises on each of her upper arms, and from this close it could be seen that they were finger marks where she had been gripped by somebody fiercely enough to leave the impressions as bruises.

Brac hurried up to the group and went straight to his mother, ignoring civilities in his concern.

"Mother! What has happened?"

At the sight of her eldest son, Oda's strength seemed to fail her. She crumpled where she stood, and Brac caught her to prevent her landing in the mud. As he steadied her, she put her hands to her face and began to keen softly.

Durc went to the other side of the distraught woman and helped to keep her steady with one arm about her shoulders, as Grod addressed them.

"Brac, I'm sorry to intrude on your clan like this," Grod said in tightly-controlled gestures. "But your mother refused to be left behind when we came to inform you of the events that have happened." He closed his eyes for a moment in pain. "Brac, I am sorry to inform you that Brun…" Grod's voice caught for a moment as he said the name, then he resumed his gestures as he got himself under control. "Brun is dead. And Broud has been Cursed with Death. His spirit has been banished from the clan."

They were all settled at the communal hearth inside the mud cave. The women of Brac's clan were busily serving soup to the group when it was found that they had not eaten since early morning. Igra had taken little Eda from Droog. The child remembered Igra and relaxed tiredly in her lap, falling asleep in her arms as the woman sat by the communal fire.

The story came out in fits and starts. Grod told most of it, and it was evident that he was still shocked at the events of the previous day, telling, then stopping to add something, then going on. As he continued it seemed to get easier for him, and eventually the events became clear in the minds of the listeners…

Broud had been furious about the defection of Oga's two sons to other clans. It had lasted the entire winter with no diminution, and he had forbidden any to speak the names of Brac and Grev. If it had been possible he would have Cursed them with Death in absentia; however the Customs did not allow for such a thing.

Nevertheless he ordered Mog-ur to search his memories of the lore relating to Death Curses, everything and anything that he could find that could be applied in this case. Mog-ur meditated in the Cave of Spirits for a full day and night, and came out drawn and exhausted-looking. Broud was even more furious when Mog-ur reported his findings: not only had it never been done before, but Mog-ur flatly refused to be the first to do it.

Broud's anger was like a chill breath off a glacier, making the entire clan quiet and uneasy. Most could not believe that he could not find it in his heart to be glad that the eldest son of his mate was now leader of a friendly clan such a short distance from them; or that the second son of his mate was now acolyte to the Mog-ur of Norg's clan, which was a high-status position to be proud of.

All of this had been especially hard on Oga. The rest of the Clan could avoid Broud; they could always return to the privacy of their own hearths where Broud could not berate them for imagined slights. But Oga had no such relief, not as the mate of Broud. She had to be there at his hearth, for making the meals, for nursing her daughter. The child was in her Weaning Year, but still required milk from her mother, and while Oga could nurse her while visiting the women at another man's hearth, for instance Uba or Ovra, she could not do so exclusively. And she had to return to Broud's hearth to sleep.

Oga had often borne the bruises of Broud's quick temper over the years, but he had never seriously beaten her. But as the long winter wore on, it seemed she could do nothing to please him. He found fault with every little thing she did, cuffing her for the least infraction, real or imagined. Also, she grieved for her two sons. As the mate of Broud she had accompanied him and the other hunters on the leader's Pachee hunt at the end of the summer. So she had missed being able to see her sons before they left. She became quiet and withdrawn, sitting at her hearth with little Eda on her lap or nursing, and Broud berating her.

The previous morning had been particularly trying. Eda had been fractious and crying as an upper molar was growing through her gum, making her mouth painful. Uba had gone to Broud's hearth and examined the child's mouth. She had assured Oga that it was just a normal part of teething and nothing to be concerned about. Uba had returned to her own hearth to prepare some mild pain-killing herbal tea for the child.

While Uba was gone, however, Broud had returned to the hearth and his temper was not improved by an irritable, teething youngster.

He sat by the fire with a new spear shaft he was making, took a flint knife and began to char and scrape a point on it. He glared at the little girl irritably. She had had little sleep the night before due to the pain in her mouth and as a result was tired and emotional.

"Shut your child up!" Broud gestured angrily to Oga. "How can a man work with that sort of annoyance at his hearth?"

Oga went to put down her work to go to her child, but she also was tired from the previous night with little sleep; as a consequence she got slowly to her feet.

Before she could reach Eda, Broud had had enough; as the child continued to cry he backhanded her, bowling her over backwards and causing her to scream in pain and fright.

Oga ran to her, cradling her shaking daughter, trying to soothe her and shaking with anger herself.

"She is a child, Broud, she is in pain!"

Broud was taken aback; Oga was usually the most placid and subservient of the women, but she was roused to anger now at her mate for taking his temper out on a defenceless three year old.

However, he was not about to take such criticism from a woman. He towered over her threateningly and Oga rose to stand facing him, putting herself protectively in front of the child, who was watching with wide, fearful eyes.

"Know your place woman! You do not speak so insolently to the man of your hearth!"

Oga refused to be cowed. She stared at her mate. "You have driven away both my sons," she gestured. "And now you threaten with your fists a little baby, all that I have left to me! What sort of man hits a baby?"

"I am the leader, woman! You will not show such disrespect! You are a disobedient, bad woman, how dare you!"

"I dare. I will leave this hearth!" Oga lifted her chin in defiance. "I will go to my eldest son's hearth, in his new clan. I will beg Brac to take me in, and my daughter as well."

Broud narrowed his eyes. Oga had threatened once before to leave his hearth, but it had been years before. The argument then had been about her breast-feeding the deformed whelp of the Other woman. "I have forbidden anybody to mention that name to me!" he said furiously. "He is no longer a member of this clan. You have no sons, woman! Only a whining brat of a daughter!"

Oga drew a breath, her face going white. "Brac!" She said the name of her eldest son defiantly, in a whisper of controlled anger. "Brac is my son, no matter what you say, and Brac is more of a leader than you ever were!"

Broud was speechless with rage. He erupted in anger, knocking Oga down with a huge blow. She cried out in pain, but slowly and deliberately she stood again, facing him, her lip bleeding where it had been split by his fist, silently defying him to do his worst.

Broud would have preferred her to cower at his feet; that she stood up again was too much for his self control. Grabbing her by the upper arm with one hand he punched her viciously in the face with the other, and again, never letting go of her arm.

She fell to the ground, and Broud began raining blow after hard blow on Oga as she tried to defend her head from his fists and kicks.

Brun stood quickly at his hearth, his face draining of blood. It was against Custom to see into the privacy of another's hearth but Brun had been the former leader for too long, very little that went on in the clan escaped his notice, although he might refrain from mentioning. Now though, he felt an odd disorienting sense of déjà vu, he had witnessed the son of his mate once before in this sort of rage against a woman, and Brun suddenly feared for Oga's life.

"Broud!" he yelled loudly, but the leader ignored him, did not even appear to hear him.

Others in the Clan were standing now, ignoring the Custom against seeing into another's hearth. Most felt stunned, unsure what to do. It was evident that Broud was not going to stop, even though Oga was lying huddled on the ground with blood covering her face and Eda screaming in fear.

Grod also stood when he saw his old friend and former leader get to his feet. Grod had been Brun's second for so many years that he now knew what Brun was thinking to an uncanny degree, and he also knew Broud's unreasoning anger and the devestation his considerable strength could wreak on anybody physically weaker than him. He ran to Broud's hearth to assist his old friend in restraining him.

Eda tried to run to her mother, and Broud turned his attention once more on the little girl, enraged past all reason. He raised his fist to hit the child, but Grod was able to reach her first and scooped her up before the crushing blow could land, taking the fist on his shoulder and grunting with the pain, staggering a little. A blow like that would have killed the little girl if it had connected.

Brun grabbed Broud by one shoulder, spinning him around. "Broud, have you taken leave of your senses?" he demanded.

"You stay out of this Brun! I am disciplining my mate for blatant disrespect, it has nothing to do with you!"

Vorn had reached the group now. Broud's Second held out his hands placatingly. "Broud, you have done enough to discipline her, let Oga up now…" he began.

"You too, Vorn?" Broud raged. "Is everybody in this clan going to defy their leader?"

"No, of course not, but Broud, look at Oga, she is hurt," Vorn tried again.

Broud did not bother to answer with words. With another tremendous blow he hit Vorn full in the face, and as the man staggered, blood spurting from a broken nose, Broud scooped up the hunting spear he had been working on and lunged at his Second with it.

Vorn took the spear high in the thigh and went down like a dropped stone. A scream came from his hearth, and then Uba ran to her mate who lay bleeding on the ground, his eyes wide in pain and disbelief.

Mog-ur ran to help Uba move Vorn out of the way of the confrontation. Vorn was bleeding heavily and had the white-faced look of one going into shock as Uba frantically treated the wound. Several of the frightened women came to help her with her injured mate.

Brun grabbed at the spear, trying to wrestle it from Broud's hands, but Broud spun around out of his grasp, still holding the spear and, his face a grimacing mask of fury, swung the heavy shaft at the older man's head, connecting with a sickening crunch. As Brun fell to his knees, Broud deliberately thrust the blood-stained spear into Brun's stomach. The fire-hardened point bit deeply; with a look of surprise Brun folded forward and lay unmoving.

As Brun fell, the whole clan seemed to take one huge intake of breath.

Mog-ur hurriedly joined with the closest of the other men in restraining their raging leader. Even with Droog, Borg and Crug, it took all three men to force Broud to his knees and hold him there while Mog-ur wrenched the spear from his grasp and threw it to the ground out of his reach.

Mog-ur glanced across at Brun lying face-down on the ground. Ebra was trying to turn him over, kneeling in the blood pooled on the ground and beseeching him with panicked gestures to get up.

Grod moved up beside his life-long friend and moved him onto his back. The lifeless eyes stared up, still seeming surprised even in death that the son of his mate could do such a thing.

Ebra screamed and threw herself against her mate's chest, and Grod covered his eyes with one shaking hand, his other hand on Brun's lifeless shoulder.

Uba hurried across and checked Brun's eyes, pulse and chest, but it was obvious that he was beyond any help that her magic could work.

"Brun has … gone to the world of the spirits," Uba gestured. With one hand she gently closed his eyes, then turned to Ebra and Grod. "I am sorry."

Ebra began to keen, and the lament was taken up by all the women until the cave rang and echoed to the grief-stricken sound as the clan mourned their best-loved former leader, their rock of stability who was now gone, swept away from them by the inexplicable rage of the current leader.

Mog-ur stood in front of Broud, who was still being held in a kneeling position by the other men.

"Why, Broud?" he gestured. "What evil spirit has taken you over?"

Broud snatched one hand out of the grasp of Crug, giving the hunter an evil look. "I am the leader," he said in abbreviated one-handed gestures. "What I do is no business of yours, Goov. You, who have always delighted in vexing and obstructing me! I should Curse you with Death. And you Droog, and Grod, and all of these traitors! I see now how it is, you are all envious of my position, just as that old man Zoug was when he defied me and told the story, said the name! of the Other woman who lived with us, after I had forbidden it. Well, I showed him that I am not to be trifled with! Even Brun defied me, he who should have been agreeing with me on everything, but then, he has always enjoyed belittling me! He was just an old man, no use to anybody anymore, a burden."

Mog-ur's eyes narrowed. He would not have thought of it prior to this display, but now it seemed obvious. "And did you also attempt to kill Rashi, the mate of Berg from Norg's clan?" he gestured.

Broud gave a dismissive snort. "If that woman had not bent down when she did, I could have killed her as surely as I did Zoug! I want all of those Sea Kin dead, they are a scourge with their outlandish ideas against all Custom! I will cleanse the land of them, hunt them down like animals…"

But now people were flashing remarks to each other – Broud, their leader, had killed Zoug? Broud had been the one to attempt to kill Rashi, mate of Berg? And now…now he had severely injured his own Second, and killed Brun, the man who had raised him, loved him, and shown him favour all his life? How could he? What sort of evil was in their midst?

Mog-ur stared at Broud in disbelief for a moment. Then he gestured abruptly to the men, "Hold him, I will be back momentarily. Do not let him up!"

He turned and hurried back to the cave of the spirits.

"Goov!" Broud yelled angrily after him, "Goov!"

He began to struggle again against the hands holding him on the ground. Finally he raised one hand again and began to berate them. "Get Goov back here and let me up, you men. I am your leader, I will not let such disrespect go unpunished!"

The hunters holding him were uncertain what to do. They were so used to obeying Broud that they began to waver, frightened and uncertain.

Grod, seeing the indecision, quickly left the body of his friend and went to stand in front of the group. With decisive gestures, he said to the men, "Mog-ur said to hold him. No doubt he has gone to commune with the spirits to find out what must be done, but do not let this man go while he is gone! You have seen he is possessed with a mad spirit, keep hold of him and do not let him stand until Mog-ur returns!"

The men holding Broud were reassured by this command from the former leader's second in command. Grod was respected by all; his repeating of Mog-ur's command made it easier to resist the ingrained sense of obedience towards the leader that they all felt. But privately Grod hoped that whatever Mog-ur was doing would be fast.

Broud stared up at Grod with disbelief. "Who are you to give the orders, old man?" he gestured angrily. "You, you worn-out old fool, you can't even hunt anymore! I will see you dead as I saw Zoug and Brun! Let me up!" he continued. "You are all Cursed with Death, every single one of you! You are all worthless!"

But he stopped, for Mog-ur had come out of the alcove of the spirits, and returned to the group. Grod breathed a sigh of relief and yielded his place to the clan's spiritual leader.

Mog-ur stared at Broud for a long moment and something in the very implacability of his gaze stopped the raging man for a moment. Then Mog-ur lifted his arms high so that all in the clan might see clearly. He wanted no misunderstanding later.

"Broud, when we arrived back here at our cave you ordered me to meditate, you wanted me to find all that I could about the Death Curse. I did as you ordered. And I found something that I had not seen before, perhaps because I had never looked. Did you ever wonder, Broud, why the leader and the Mog-ur are never the same person?"

He answered his own rhetorical question. "I have pondered it before, and as I searched the deepest memories I found the reason. It is because evil spirits are attacted to men of power. Sometimes they find ways to take over. The role of Mog-ur and leader reside in two separate people so that they may act as a check and a balance on each other to ensure that neither oversteps the bounds of Custom to the detriment of their clan." Mog-ur picked up the spear lying blood-stained on the ground and held it casually, not threatening, just showing that he was armed. He nodded at the men holding Broud and gestured with one hand. "Let him up now. You may stand, Broud."

The men all took one step back, releasing him with obvious relief, and Broud got to his feet.

"About time," he gestured angrily. "You realize, Goov, that you are Mog-ur no longer? All your talk of checks and balances! I will see you driven from this clan for this disrespectful behaviour towards your leader..."

But Mog-ur cut him off with a decisive gesture. "I have not finished," he motioned. All sounds had ceased as the clan people watched the unfolding drama between their holy man and their leader.

"I found," Mog-ur continued, "that there is a provision in the Custom that allows the Mog-ur to Curse with Death even the leader, if he should become so possessed by an evil spirit, so sick in the head that he kills other members of the clan. It is so ancient a provision that it has only rarely been invoked, but it has been done before, when a leader succumbed to evil spirits as you have done. When I went back to the Cave of Spirits just now, I set the bones and said the names of the Evil Ones. Broud, former leader of this Clan, you are Cursed. Cursed with Death."

The blood drained from Broud's face. Ebra began to keen again. And her lament was taken up by the others.

Broud gazed wildly about at the men who had held him just a moment before. One by one their gaze shifted from him, as if they could no longer see him, as if he had disappeared from their consciousness.

Mog-ur still gazed at him. Mog-ur…and Grod, who was not about to miss seeing justice meted out to the son of Brun's mate. Grod watched unobtrusively, not making it obvious that he could still see the body of Broud, inhabited by the evil spirit that had taken him over. Broud was now dead, but his body could still be dangerous and Grod could not make himself blank Broud from his sight, even though he quailed with fear at the nearness of this Evil One still animating Broud's dead flesh. He picked up another spear shaft that was lying by the hearth ready to be processed, pretending to examine it while in reality watching Broud from the corner of one eye. The shaft was not yet formed, its end not shaved and hardened by fire. But it was a good strong shaft and Grod felt better to be armed. If it came to it, he would help Mog-ur disable the body so that it could harm nobody else. Grod stood ready.

Mog-ur's eyes flicked briefly to Grod for a second, knowing this and letting it pass unmentioned. He was sure he could best the body of Broud should his madness lead him to attack, but it was reassuring to know that the old hunter would help if needed.

Broud was staring in disbelief at the members of his clan as one by one their eyes went blank and he disappeared from their sight. He turned to the men who a moment before had held him. Each one had turned to walk back to their hearths, back to what they had been doing previously, as if he wasn't there. They believed it: Broud was dead, the Mog-ur had declared it to be so and while they could register the presence of the Evil One, it was no longer Broud. So they would not see him.

Broud moved in front of Borg, who had long been a cronie of his, in the coterie of younger hunters. Borg had always previously agreed with whatever Broud had wanted. Broud moved to block him, but Borg gave no response that he had seen him, barely turning aside to avoid the former leader as if he were an inanimate boulder in his path.

Broud ran to each hearth in turn, desperate for some sign of recognition. Standing in the middle of the cave, with no eyes on him at all, he gesticulated wildly, "Look at me! LOOK AT ME!"

He ran back to stand, panting, in front of Mog-ur, who met his gaze stoically. "You can see me," Broud accused wildly. "You are looking right at me! I don't know why you are saying that you have Cursed me with Death, not when you can see me!"

Mog-ur nodded. "I can see you, Evil One. I can see the spirit animating the dead flesh of the former leader. But then, I am Mog-ur. I can see and talk to spirits."

Broud howled, a harsh, desperate sound, and lunged for Mog-ur, his hands open ready to crush, to squeeze, to kill. A hard blow from behind knocked him aside, and as he staggered, trying to recover his balance, a second blow smashed across the back of both knees dropped him to the ground.

Broud shrieked in agony as the anterior cruciate ligament of one leg was abruptly ruptured by the blow, and he writhed on the floor, staring in disbelief at Grod, who had used the spear shaft to stop his attack. But now Grod was staring off into the middle distance, as if he were merely gazing outside the cave entrance to ascertain the weather, paying no attention to the man he had felled.

Mog-ur stepped up into Broud's sight again. "Leave this Clan, Evil spirit. Be gone! You are not wanted here."

Broud rolled and somehow managed to pull himself to his feet again. Staggering, still the madness in his eyes had not died. He roared angrily and lurched forward to attack Mog-ur again.

Mog-ur pulled back on the spear and thrust its already red-striped point into Broud's right-side shoulder. Broud staggered backwards. The spear came free, but Mog-ur held it ready for another thrust should Broud attack again.

With blood dripping from his shoulder wound, and hunched over and limping heavily from the injury to his leg, Broud could not move fast. As he made for one hearth after another, somehow Mog-ur was always able to block him, getting in front, herding and chivvying him towards the entrance. Then out of the cave itself, outside.

Mog-ur followed him closely, not allowing him to gather up tools, belongings or weapons. He was to be thrown out of the clan with only what he was wearing, his amulet and a hide wrapped about his waist with a cord, and a sling tucked into the cord.

At the tree line, Broud halted, clinging to a tree trunk to help him balance, staring at Mog-ur, panting from the exertion and blood loss.

"You haven't won Goov," he gestured with his uninjured arm. "Don't think for a moment that I won't be back! I had already decided that you were no longer Mog-ur, therefore your calling down a Death Curse upon me was invalid. I'll be back and I'll see you dead! With a spear to the belly! Usurper!"

Mog-ur raised the spear again, threateningly. "Be gone Spirit! Leave this place!"

Broud turned and moved off into the trees, moving slowly and heavily from the injury to his leg, blood dripping from his shoulder and landing on the ground in small splats as he stumbled away.

Mog-ur watched his retreat and wondered if he shouldn't have made sure Broud's body was incapacitated totally. Obviously this was one spirit who was resistant to believing that he was dead, something which his memories told him had happened a few times before in the past. He had been worried that the spirit would try to take somebody else with him, one of the children perhaps. Not that anybody would have willingly gone, not after the Evil One showed himself.

Mog-ur stood and watched long after the forest had swallowed up their former leader. When he turned back to the cave he saw that all of Broud's belongings were being burnt. Grod stood beside the fire. As Mog-ur watched, Grod snapped the spear he had been holding in two pieces against a rock and dropped them into the flames to be consumed...

20

"What of Vorn, Grod?" Durc asked anxiously as the old hunter finished speaking. "Is he in danger? Will he recover?"

"Uba says he will live," Grod said heavily, returning to the present with an effort. "And should be able to walk again. But she thinks it will take some time for him to recover – it was lucky that the spear did not hit the big vein in the upper leg. Uba says the bone is not broken. He will need a lot of care before he will be able to hunt again. He will need assistance just to walk at first, until the wound heals."

They all relapsed into silence, staring at the fire in shocked silence. Brac sat with his mother, who was huddled beside him. Now she raised her hands. "I shouldn't have provoked him," she gestured meekly. "I knew he was irritated by Eda's crying…maybe if I had taken her to Vorn's hearth, or… or to Brun's…" her voice broke when she said the name.

Brac put one arm comfortingly about her shoulders. "Oh, no, mother! It is not your fault! Don't say that," he soothed.

Durc drew a deep breath. "So what happens now?" he asked Grod.

Grod glanced at Droog and Borg. "We will have a burial ceremony for Brun. But Brac, our clan now has no leader. You are the one who was the heir despite what Broud said. You still are considered by Clan and Custom to be the one who should lead us."

Brac's forehead creased with worry. "I would come whole-heartedly, but what of my new clan here? I cannot lead both. I suppose," he mused, "that we could move this clan to the other and merge them both…"

"I would be in agreement," Mog-ur said. "Except that I hate to leave everything we have built here. And your other clan already has one strong and capable Mog-ur. I know I am not yet confirmed as Mog-ur, but I must admit, it would be … a bitter mouthful to have to return to an acolyte's position, after having been Mog-ur in effect for so long. But you are right, Brac, you cannot be leader of two clans…"

Suddenly Durc saw a pathway through this murky swamp. "Why not?" he demanded.

Brac gazed at him in confusion. "What are you saying, Durc? Do you think that we should merge the two clans together?"

Durc shook his head. "No, I don't mean that. What I am thinking is that you become leader of both clans as they are. Go to our old clan and lead there while Vorn recovers. In your stead, I will stay here and continue to act as your Second. If anything arises here that I cannot handle or need your guidance on, well, we are close enough that a strong young runner can get a message to you in a morning." He turned to Zorn, sitting quietly beside him. "Would that solution satisfy you, Mog-ur? You could continue to act here, independently. If you felt you needed guidance on any spiritual matter, well, Bard and Gond are both long-legged. They could take a message. Or you could travel yourself to consult the Mog-ur there."

Mog-ur nodded consideringly. "I can see how it could be done," he mused. "Although it is not strictly according to Custom… however, it is indeed true that a leader does not need to be present at all times, he can be gone for extended hunting trips and so on, and the clan survives. Particularly if he has a strong and confident Second to rely upon…"

Oga looked up at Brac beseechingly. "Oh my son! Please come back with us! I have missed you and Grev so sorely this winter, and grieved for you both. Your Clan needs you, we are

in disarray with the Evil One who came upon us, masquerading as my mate! Please Brac! We need you to give us reassurance and continuity."

Brac sat quietly for a moment, staring into space, turning the new idea over in his head, looking for any flaws in the argument.

Seld spoke up now. He had been watching the ongoing discussion closely. "My former people, the S'Armunai Others, have stories of a single tribe or clan becoming too large for their cave and splitting amicably into two. Each would have a leader, often the Second who acted as the leader in his stead. He was called Leader Second. And a spiritual advisor and a person skilled in healing magic for each cave. They would retain ties of friendship and help each other in times of crisis, never forgetting that they were once one. I was not born to the Clan but I have followed its ways for many years. I would be happy to try this suggestion and see if we can make it work."

Brac gave an almost imperceptible nod, and looked at Durc approvingly. "It is true that you have been an able Second to me since we came to this clan," he gestured. "And once again, you have come up with a solution which I would not perhaps have thought of, but which seems to me sound, now that I have considered it. I believe it could work, and if it does not, well, we still have the fallback of merging the two clans into one."

Brac looked at the newcomers so recently arrived from Norg's clan. Before he could address them, Rog said, "Rog would speak, Brac."

"Rog may speak."

Rog glanced at the other men in his group. "I came here to this clan looking for a suitable mate and prepared to stay. I know of both Brac and Durc from our summer spent with the

Sea Kin. I think both of you make very adequate leaders. Rog wishes to stay. And I will remain here, in this clan with Durc as…as Leader Second," he stumbled a little over the unfamiliar spoken title, then continued, "unless Brac requires me to go with him."

The other men nodded in agreement, and Brac relaxed fractionally. Durc looked down as the people turned to each other, discussing the idea, approving.

Leader Second! It sounded good, very … fitting. He could not remember ever seeing such a title anywhere in the memories, it was a spoken word of the Others, but it was certainly apt. In effect, he would be leader of this clan! As the thought came to him, he glanced up at Brac, feeling a little guilty.

Brac put one hand reassuringly on the younger man's shoulder. "My brother," he gestured, quickly, privately, "I know you did not suggest this so that you could become leader in effect. The need arose and you saw a way around a thorny problem so that all might benefit. It is for that trait of your mind that I chose you, back before you were even a man, as my Second. Your mind has a way of understanding problems and cutting through them efficiently to the best solution."

Durc nodded, grateful for the man's understanding. "I will miss you," he gestured. "With both you and Grev gone, I feel as if I have lost my whole family. Although you, at least, are not far away. But I am also eager to see this clan succeed. I truly feel a part of them now, after working together on the mud cave and then spending the winter together. I would like to see them prosper."

Durc lay awake on his bed, listening to the occasional snuffling, soft breathing and snores of a group deeply asleep, and tried not to think, not to feel.

The day had been such a whirlwind, starting with sorting of the new men into their respective status within the hierarchy of the clan, and then the awful news from their old home, and their need to respond quickly, that he hadn't had time to process the events. But now he was thinking, lying on his bed. His mind was full of memories of Brun, the man who had been as much a teacher and mentor towards him as old Zoug had been.

It was almost impossible for him to imagine a world where Brun was not still alive, vital and enduring, stoic and kind. Durc's chest hurt but he did not know how to relieve the pain. The more he remembered, the worse the pain got.

It was Brun who had shown him how to char and scrape a spear. Brun who had watched quietly as Zoug had instructed Durc in how to use a sling, Brun who had shown pride in his ability and encouraged always, Brun who had turned aside Broud's irrational hatred towards Durc by standing against Broud, using his reputation as former leader to make the younger leader mediate his response, at least outwardly. He was the man who was unafraid to show the strange youngster affection.

Vorn, as the man of Durc's hearth, had been kind and affectionate within the privacy of his hearthstones, but outside of that, Vorn's knowledge of the leader's antipathy towards Durc had caused him to be gruff and uncommunicative. Brun had no such compunction, sure enough of his earned position within the Clan structure to extend Durc respect and kindness. Brun's behaviour had been what Durc had imagined a man of the hearth would show towards the son of his mate, and Durc loved him for that.

It had been a sombre mood at Brac's hearth earlier in the evening. The day had been taken up with dealing with more immediate concerns, necessarily pushing emotions to the background. But once they had retired to Brac's hearth for the night, like a heavy storm cloud the grief had rolled over them.

Brac's grief must surely be more than Durc's, since he had lost, not only Brun, but also Broud, the former man of his hearth, the mate of his mother, a man he had loved even if he had gradually lost respect for him over the years. And in such a circumstance! Brac had been sitting inside his hearthstones, staring blankly at the fire, with his mate beside him. Igra sat with one arm about her mate's waist. Saying nothing, just being there, comforting with her presence. On his other side sat Brac's mother. Both women were offering silent comfort to the young man as he came to terms with his grief.

Zorn had come to the hearth briefly to express his sympathy to both Brac and to Durc, and Bard and Seld had added theirs before leaving for their own hearth for the night. Durc was grateful, and surely Zorn's clan had suffered loss and could understand grief.

But none of that eased the horrible ache Durc felt in his chest. Loss, disbelief, even anger at Broud, all intermixed. In this case, grief shared did nothing to lessen the pain.

Durc could bear it no longer, he felt if he stayed here on his bed his chest would get too big for his body and explode with the emotions it contained. Moving quietly he flung off the fur covering his bed and by the light of the banked fires in the hearths, made his way to the entrance, slipping out of the mud cave and walking to the back wall.

There, facing the night-cloaked forest with his back against the sturdy earthen wall, he finally let the grief out. Like a dam bursting its banks, the tears flowed down his cheeks and he sank to his haunches, rocking in anguish, his face in his hands, his tears dropping through his fingers and wetting his beard and the earth. His sobs were quiet but no less intense for that.

He remembered Brun's last conversation with him, how the former leader had proudly declared, "The day I cannot face the wrath of the son of my mate at his worst, that is the day I travel to the spirit world!"

Those words now had the eerie quality of an omen of doom. Because Brun had done just that, and paid the heaviest price for it.

At last the storm subsided. Durc felt drained, but the terrible ache now was a little easier to bear. He let his back slide down against the wall to a sitting position, and lay his head back against its sturdy flank. The dried clay had absorbed the warmth of the spring day, and now released it slowly back into the night; to Durc the warmth felt comforting, like arms holding him.

The night was quiet, just the rustling of small night animals going about their business, the moon three quarters full, without a hint of cloud to mar its glowing beauty. The stars twinkled in the night sky, and Durc watched those hearthfires of the Spirit World, wondering at which one Brun was sitting tonight. Was he looking down now, seeing Durc's grief and watching over his clan as he had done in life?

Durc did not bother to go back inside; out here it felt easier to breathe and the wall provided enough warmth. He closed his eyes and finally fell asleep.

The small group prepared to leave the next morning. Dawn saw Brac standing with his mother, his little sibling and the others.

"Please, send me word if you can, if Vorn takes a turn for the worse," Durc said earnestly to Brac. "If he does, I will come to you at once. And tell Uba of my affection for her, and that I am thinking of her."

Brac nodded, then said, "Oh! I just remembered, before all this happened, you wanted to speak to me privately. I'm afraid we got onto a side track. What was it you wished to say to me, Durc?"

Durc shook his head. When he had woken up that morning, curled in a ball next to the earthen wall of the mud cave, he had lain for a while thinking about what the future held for him personally. He had realized that there was no way that he could leave his new responsibilities to travel all the way back to the Sea Kin to ask Toll for Kalli as his mate. It was impossible now, and he had reconciled himself to it. She was young, hard-working and comely, there was no way she would be unmated if he left off any longer. The likelihood was that she was already mated to some young hunter of the Sea Kin anyway, and the trip would be futile. His new clan needed him too much now to leave them. It was too late for Durc to mate with Kalli, and that broke his heart almost as much as Brun's death had done. He felt sore and battered by his emotions and just wanted the world to stop so he could catch his breath, lick his wounds and recover some equilibrium.

He met Brac's concerned gaze squarely. "It doesn't matter now," he gestured.

21

Durc moved into Mog-ur's hearth, with Zorn, Oona and little Selda, her daughter. Durc was quite capable of looking after himself, but Mog-ur let him know that it would be a breach of Custom for Durc to cook for himself, particularly as their leader-in-effect. And Durc felt that it was fitting, as well; he had lived for so many years as Uba's adopted son, that to be cared for by the Medicine Woman felt like a taste of home.

Plus he respected Oona, and liked Zorn. The young Mog-ur, along with Bard, were by now close friends to Durc. Durc particularly enjoyed Zorn's company, they were closest in age and with his studious manner and occasional deep insights the Mog-ur made for interesting company. The toddler Selda was a sweet little girl, and no respector yet of rank. She was quite comfortable to crawl onto Durc's lap and play, treating him with the fond familiarity of a sibling, tugging his beard and playing with the ends of his shoulder-length blonde hair, squirming in delight when he tickled her.

Durc sometimes joked, particularly early on, that he was now like old Seld, retired and living with the son of his mate. Seld and Bard had in fact been looked after by Oona before she had mated Mog-ur; she had been the daughter of Seld's hearth and cooked and cared for them both after her mother passed to the spirit world. Now the pair had Enna as the mistress of the hearth, and since the hearths adjoined each other the two families often shared a meal and company, particularly in the evenings.

Durc still felt a fondness for the comely young woman he had once considered mating; now that she and Bard were no longer in isolation, she was often his choice to relieve his needs once more.

Durc knew that he would have felt lonely in the evenings if he had kept a hearth all to himself. It was pleasant to sit with Mog-ur, Oona and Selda, and Bard, Enna and Seld, and feel himself to be a part of their extended family. But if he had chosen to, he could have had his own hearth, this clan was by now so used to doing whatever it had to in order to survive that they were more open to new ideas than the clan Durc had left, despite what Mog-ur said about Custom.

This situation suited Durc very well: Seld and Bard's presence meant that his expressions were not frowned upon or thought outlandish, and the gratitude for his timely help and respect as Brac's Second all winter had stood him in good stead in his new role. People were content to follow his lead, and he was just as careful not to overstep the bounds of Custom too far. Mog-ur was a great help in this respect; he was always happy to discuss aspects of memory or anything that Durc found problematic.

In all ways but one, Durc was very satisfied with his new clan; and he accepted that it was entirely his fault that he was not now mated to Kalli. He should have realized what her feelings were towards him last summer and acted upon them then.

He hoped that whoever she was mated to now would be respectful towards her and treat her well, and wished her the best with all his heart.

Bard had been out hunting the woods one morning in mid-spring. He arrived back at the area of the mud cave around mid-afternoon, staggering a little as he lugged a burden on his back, a huge grey wolf carcass. He dropped it to the ground with a sigh of relief, and looked extremely smug as everybody gathered around to inspect the body of the big beast.

"I was tracking a deer," he gestured. "What I didn't realize was that this wolf was also hunting by himself, and after the same thing. When the deer got wind of us it fled out of reach of both of us, but I was able to get the wolf instead!"

Everybody admired the big animal. Now Bard turned to Durc.

"I'd like to give the fur of this wolf to you, Durc," the young man gestured. "I notice that you have nothing of your totem to wear, and this fur is rather fine."

Once Bard had become a man, he had begun to follow Seld's example of decorating his amulet thong with something from his totemic spirit. But whereas Seld had strung several dhole teeth onto his amulet, at the beginning of last winter Bard had managed to bring down a big low-flying hawk, the sign of his totem. He had carefully bored holes into the hooked talons of the bird and wore them displayed proudly on his amulet's cord, interspaced with small sea shells from the nearby coastline. He had also kept some of the hawk's feathers and begun tucking one or two of them into a leather band tied around his forehead.

At first he wore the thong to hold his long light brown hair out of his eyes while hunting. Enna had finger-woven several bands made with highly-coloured grasses for him, and attached hawk feathers to those, as well, and now Bard wore one or other of those every day, as a matter of course.

The other younger men formerly of Norg's clan had grown used to seeing similar, at first seemingly outlandish habits of body decoration amongst the Sea Kin last summer at the Bear Ceremony, but after growing used to it they had also adopted the practice, tucking some part of their totemic animal, either a tooth or a tuft of fur or piece of hide, into a forehead band or threaded onto their amulet cords, to bring the luck of their totems to the hunt.

It was something that would have surprised other clans who had not had some contact with the Sea Kin practices, but in this clan it was now accepted and admired.

However, wolves were not often hunted by the clan and Durc had nothing symbolic of his totem. But now, thanks to the generosity of his friend, Durc had a whole grey wolf hide to wear!

Durc smiled. "I accept with pleasure, Bard." He felt rather touched that the younger man had thought of him when the opportunity to catch a wolf had appeared. They were intelligent predators and were not often caught. He gazed at the animal lying at their feet. Its fur was a beautiful silvery grey. Maybe not so thick and luxurious as the hide of Ursus, but definitely comparable. "I think I would like a cloak made from it," he continued. "It would be welcome in cool mornings and evenings."

Durc's clan was gathered outside their mud cave with a sense of holiday. For today they were to travel to Brac's clan so that Zorn could be tested by Goov and, as was widely accepted, become officially their Mog-ur.

Nobody expected him to fail, since his training had been almost complete and he had certainly acted as Mog-ur once their previous spiritual leader had died of the sickness. Nearly everybody apart from Zorn thought of it as a mere formality. Zorn, on the other hand, was quiet and rather nervous, as was only to be expected for such an important occasion.

Borg had arrived the previous day, bringing the message from Brac, formally inviting their whole clan to attend the ceremony and feast planned, and everybody was in great good spirits at this break from routine.

The women carried gifts in baskets and bundles for Brac's clan. The usual frenetic spring activity had meant that they now had, not only an excess of food and implements for themselves, but extra to give as gifts to their former leader's clan. They had chosen carefully, taking a lot of gifts from the sea, dried and packaged, and salt carefully obtained by allowing seawater in shallow wooden containers to evaporate and collecting the fine crystals left behind.

Zorn had carefully wrapped up his beautiful cloak of office, fur side in, and tied it securely with cord. He now wore deerskin for everyday, and would leave that on and carry the wrapped hide of Ursus until he was officially ordained.

Durc was sorely tempted to wear his new wolf fur cloak, which Oona had recently finished making for him. The head had been left on as a sort of hood, as was the custom of the northern clans, and the tail, and when Durc had worn it, wrapping his lean body in the soft folds and using the front legs to tie it at the neck, pulling the hood up and over his forehead, everybody in the clan had been full of admiration for it. One or two of the younger children had even hidden behind their mothers when they saw their tall young Leader Second turn into this wolfish apparition!

Unfortunately, it was now summer, and way too hot to wear such a heavy fur. Durc had reverted to his usual summer attire, a wrap of soft leather tied at the waist, leaving his chest bare of clothing. Like all the others in his clan, he now had a full summer tan. And he had adopted Bard's method of wearing a headband that Enna had made for him. She had become something of an expert at this and now everybody in the clan, from the men and women to the smallest children, all had a personalized headband for everyday wear.

The one she had made for Durc had, at his suggestion, the teeth of the wolf displayed in a regular pattern around the outside of the band, and Durc felt it looked very fine.

And of course he still wore the ivory fishhook that Kalli had given to him, hanging on its separate thong beside his amulet. He thought of her often, and would reach up and touch the hook, as if he could be close to her in that way.

Everybody lined up in their positions according to status, ready to start and Durc, in the lead with Zorn, turned back to look at them all.

He suddenly felt a swelling of huge pride in his heart for them, remembering his first sight of them, ragged, starving, living in worn tents and eating clover and whatever could be hunted by three men, one old and one still a boy.

Now, they were strong. There had been no deaths and nearly all of the women showed signs of pregnancy. Enna, in fact, was far enough along in her pregnancy that sitting and rising was becoming a little difficult. For her sake and the children's Durc planned to take the trip slowly, and camp overnight, even though a strong runner could cover the distance in a few hours.

But all were healthy and well-fed. They were clothed, and sheltered, and had become a prosperous and well-run clan. The men previously from Norg's clan had become a cohesive and efficient hunting team with Durc teaching them how to use the thrown spear effectively.

Durc's heart felt full of love and of pride for them all. He turned back to Zorn and the Clan moved off, following the two young men.

"I am grateful to see you looking so well," Durc said to Vorn.

He was sitting at the man's hearth, sipping tea. Uba was beside him and Inga had been so pleased to see her older "sibling" that the child had refused to leave his side since he and his clan had arrived earlier in the day.

Vorn still wore a soft rabbit-hide bandage knotted high on his leg, but with the aid of a staff he had managed to hobble to the entrance of the cave when Durc and his clan arrived. He had greeted the young man with unfeigned affection, more secure in showing his feelings openly now that Broud was no longer there to see and criticize him for it.

Vorn gestured self-deprecatingly. "My leg is much improved now."

He untied the knot holding the bandage and moved one corner to the side for Durc to see. The wound had sealed itself with new pink skin and appeared to have knitted together well. But even to Durc's untrained eye it was obvious that it had been a near thing, the femoral artery must have been missed by just a small amount. Vorn would carry the scar for the rest of his life.

"It was a wonder that the bone did not break," Uba fussed, deftly tweaking the bandage back into place on her mate's leg and refastening the knots holding the hide together. "I want that bandage to stay on, Vorn," she added, with the self-assurance of a Medicine Woman. "It will help to keep evil spirits from the healing skin."

"But he will be able to hunt again?" Durc questioned his adopted mother. A man's hunting ability was essential, not only to his status but to his sense of self as a man of the Clan.

Uba nodded assent. "If the wound continues to heal as well as it has."

"I hope it will be soon," Vorn complained. "I am bored sitting here watching everybody else go on hunting trips and leaving me. And what sort of Second would I be to Brac if I am crippled?"

"You're not crippled," Uba disagreed. "You can walk now with a staff. You may not be able to hunt for the time being, but you will, if the spirits will it." She paused, then added, "Not that this woman knows the ways of the spirits. But this Medicine Woman knows healing magic and that wound must be kept covered and not have too much weight put upon it yet."

Vorn grunted in acknowledgement, but Durc felt relieved. He was very fond of Vorn and had worried about him. But Uba was full of confidence that no lasting harm had been done. And Uba was born to a line of highly respected Medicine Women.

Now Durc commented, "I was also happy to see the fine and healthy son that Ovra has borne. Who would ever have thought she would have a baby now, after the many seasons of being unable to get pregnant?"

For some reason, Uba looked slightly uncomfortable at this. But then she brightened. "I felt so happy that Goov decided to call the baby Creb! Do you remember Creb at all, Durc?"

Durc nodded. "A little. The memories are a bit confused, but I do remember my mother, and I remember Creb. Not Iza though," he added, referring to Uba's mother, Medicine Woman before her.

"I'd be surprised if you did remember Mother," Uba said. "You were still in your birth year when she died. Oh, and I am so glad Uka managed to live to see her daughter have a baby."

She glanced toward the mouth of the cave. There were fresh mounds of stones in place beside the rock wall just outside the entrance - the old lady had passed away two months after baby Creb had been born. It was beside another sombre pile of rock, that covering the body of Brun. Brun's bola sat atop the rocks of his grave as a tribute. Both graves were still so recent that early summer rain had not yet washed away the powdered red ochre that had been spread on the rocks after their burials.

Grod had now moved into the Mog-ur's hearth so that the daughter of his mate could cook and care for him. The old man seemed to have shrunk over the past year, the death of both his mate and Brun had taken a toll on him. Before, it had seemed to Durc that Zoug had been the oldest man he had ever met, and then Seld. But now, it was Grod who appeared old. Old and tired. But the baby at Mog-ur's hearth had the power to make him happy.

"And how is … your other patient?" Durc motioned. By custom he was not allowed to mention Igra, who was still under the modified Women's Curse after giving birth a few days before his arrival.

Uba understood who he meant. "Doing well," she said, also carefully avoiding names. "But, you know, the egg had a double yolk this time!"

Durc nodded. He had spoken to Brac on arrival. They had sat together at a small fire built just outside Brac's hearthstones, but Durc was able to see Igra and her two brand-new babies, a girl and a boy, tiny but perfect. He had of course pretended not to look, that was only good manners, but it was impossible to close his eyes to them. Igra's mother Ika was at the hearth with her daughter, holding one baby proudly while her daughter nursed the other.

Brac's hearth was now very full. He had not only his mate and her two new babies, but his mother and sibling as well. Plus Ebra had joined them since Brun had died. The old lady was becoming frail, and she was full of grief that it had been her own son who had killed Brun. But she, like Grod, took delight in the babies at the hearth.

"The …new mother…is the sibling of Borg," Uba added carefully. "And Borg's mate had Two Born Together as well. Sometimes that happens, if one sibling has Two Born Together, the other sibling or mate of the sibling does as well. It is rare, but not unheard of."

"Two Born Together, a boy and a girl," Durc mused. "And there is no doubt about them being accepted into the Clan on their Naming Day?"

Vorn shook his head. "I examined them with Brac. They both appear to be normal. Although they are very small."

"That is to be expected of Two Born Together," Uba added. "But they are feeding well and seem to be in good health overall. My other patient is overjoyed!"

"I could tell Brac was very happy as well, when I spoke to him this afternoon," Durc motioned, allowing a slight smile to touch his lips now that he was safely inside Vorn's hearth.

He had been forcing himself to become aware of his idiosyncratic facial expressions ever since they arrived; in his own clan he was far more relaxed about smiling, but here he was guarded. But both Uba and Vorn loved him and didn't condemn if a smile slipped out now and then.

"Brac has invited us all to stay until the Naming Day, and I have accepted," he continued.

Vorn nodded, looking pleased. "Brac's clan is growing!" he remarked happily.

Now Durc yawned and stretched. "I had better go rejoin Zorn's hearth," he said.

Zorn had spent the entire afternoon in the Place of the Spirits with Goov and when he emerged he had not needed to say he was now a fully-fledged Mog-ur. For he had been wearing the silver cloak of Ursus proudly about his shoulders, despite the warmth of the summer evening. Durc had caught Bard's eyes and they had shared a smile: for now Bard could pursue his ambition of becoming acolyte. Zorn had assured him that he would be happy to accept him as such, if he was confirmed Mog-ur first.

"Oh, stay Durc!" Inga begged now, holding his hand.

"Yes, please do stay," Uba motioned. "It quite feels like home again now with you here. Although I am still surprised to see you with a beard!"

Durc smiled again. "It looks like Zorn and the others are still eating," he remarked, glancing across to the mouth of the cave, where his clan had been invited to stay by Brac. "Would you mind if I did sleep here?" he asked Vorn.

Vorn grunted assent. "It is good to have you back, young man," he motioned. "Even if only for a visit."

He reached for the sturdy staff lying beside him, and Durc jumped up to help him when he began to rise to his feet. "If you wouldn't mind," Vorn motioned, as Durc helped to steady him, "I must go to speak to Brac about the ceremony tomorrow. I would be grateful for your shoulder…"

"I could go and fetch Brac," Uba fussed. "There is no need for you to go all the way over there…"

"I will not have the leader summoned here like a naughty child!" Vorn motioned impatiently. "I can manage to cross the cave still, woman!"

"Yes, Vorn," Uba looked down, but Durc was reassured even more by her agreement. If she had been worried that Vorn's injury was worse, she would never have acquiesced so easily. A medicine woman had special status in the Clan, status that did not depend upon her mate's. Where her healing magic was concerned, the Clan, men and women alike, usually obeyed her instructions without more than token argument.

Durc helped Vorn ease to the ground at the meeting fire just outside Brac's hearth. Brac welcomed them, but when Durc could not stop a wide yawn, Vorn motioned, "Go on back to the hearth. I'm sure Brac can help me back when we have finished."

Durc nodded, catching Brac's eyes for a second. He could see that Brac, like Durc, thought it droll to see Vorn ordering them both about as if they were still young boys!

Durc got back to the hearth to find that Uba had gotten out some furs for him to sleep on, at the back of the hearth away from the direct heat of the fire, since the night was warm.

Ovra was visiting with Uba. She was sitting with the Medicine Woman by the fire for the light, so that they could converse easily whilst she nursed her baby.

Durc nodded polite acknowledgement to her, then went to the sleeping furs Uba had laid out for him. Little Inga had already laid hers by his, and was fast asleep. Durc lay down beside her and rolled onto his side, ready for sleep. But though his body relaxed and his breathing slowed, it felt a little odd to be here, back under a rock ceiling after so many months of gazing at mud walls as he went to sleep, and it took some time for his mind to begin to slow.

He gazed through half-lidded, drowsy eyes at the two women by the fire, their hands moving as they spoke. Their signed conversation washed over him and he felt himself slipping more and more into drowsiness…

"I needed to ask you if you have any more of the tea you left for me…" Ovra was motioning.

Uba held up her hand to stop the woman. She glanced sharply toward the back of the hearth where Durc lay unmoving with Inga in the shadows.

"Durc?" she said aloud.

Durc was too sleepy to answer. Apparently satisfied that her adopted son was asleep, Uba returned to the conversation; however, the guardedness of her actions and her body language conveying caution managed to rouse Durc from his half-dozing state. Keeping his eyelids half-shut, he watched what she was saying, backlit by the flickering fire, curious to know what the problem was.

"Do you mean the tonic of golden thread? And the antelope sage for your Woman's Curse?"

At Ovra's nod, Uba continued, "I have been meaning to ask you about that tea. Did you continue to drink it every morning before you got pregnant?"

"No, once nearly everybody left for the Clan Gathering, we had some trouble with mice in the cave. Grod managed to get rid of them, but not before the tea ingredients that you left for me were fouled. I had to throw them out."

"And…how long after you stopped drinking the tea did Zorn visit the cave?"

"Zorn? He arrived perhaps a moon's cycle after you all left for the Gathering. So I must have been without it for at least that long."

Uba was silent for a moment, glancing warily back at Durc, who lay still, intrigued.

She turned back to her friend. "Ayla began giving you that tea after you had so much trouble with still births," she gestured slowly. "The tea is … secret magic of the Medicine Women of my line. It does make a woman strong. And it…strengthens her spirit, as well."

Ovra was listening, fascinated. "When Ayla began to give it to me, I had just suffered another miscarriage. Since I have been drinking it…" she paused, her eyes widening at the implication, and leaned forwards to Uba confidentially, glancing around at the other hearths warily. "I have not gotten pregnant or miscarried, not for years, until I became pregnant with little Creb! Does the tea's magic…does it make a woman's totem so strong that it can defeat a man's spirit every time?"

Uba nodded slowly. "Sometimes, when a woman has too much trouble giving birth, or her babies are still-born, it is better she not get pregnant at all. It drains her body and her spirit too much. I didn't expect you to need the tea once we had all gone, but I didn't want you to inadvertently swallow Grod's spirit, as the man of your hearth. But, without the tea's magic protection, it seems Zorn's spirit defeated yours when he visited."

Ovra nodded, looking down at the baby asleep at her breast. She stroked his fair hair tenderly. "I don't care whose spirit I swallowed," she gestured. "I am just glad I finally had a healthy baby! Should I continue to take the tea now, Uba?"

Uba shook her head. "No, you should be safe now while baby Creb nurses. I will give you more in his Weaning Year, or once your spirit begins to battle again." She hesitated, then added, "that is, if you want to take it. You may like to try for another child?"

Ovra thought about it, then shook her head. "I am getting old now. I think I must now be as old as Iza was when she had you! One healthy baby is enough for me, I will take very good care of this little one. Goov loves him already, perhaps in time he will become an acolyte to Mog-ur!"

Uba nodded. "Everybody loves him. Grod dotes on him."

Their conversation continued, but Durc shut his eyes. And so he did not see Uba cautioning Ovra to tell no man, ever, of what she had learned that evening, as it would only bring disaster if a man were to learn of it.

But Durc could no longer stay awake. They had just been discussing Uba's medicines. What a lot of fuss to make about tea, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

22

The combined clans started gathering outside the cave in the dim half-light of pre-dawn the next morning. It was refreshingly cool and the sky was clear, presaging a fine day later. The ridge to the east rose above the trees, seeming to waver vaguely just on the edge of perception.

There was a sense of expectation in the air; today was the day that the babies of Brac's mate would be named and accepted into the clan, the day they would be accepted as living, viable human beings.

Durc's clan stood respectfully to one side of the main gathering, with Durc and Zorn in the front and the others ranged behind them in their various positions, indicative of their individual status.

Goov, wearing his ceremonial hide of Ursus, strode into position in front of the fire. Mog-ur made the silent gestures that called the spirits to attend.

At his gesture, Igra, with her mother Ika following, left their places and went to him. Each woman carried one of the tiny babies. The women sank to the ground and Igra uncovered her infant. With her eyes fixed properly on the ground, she held up the baby.

Dipping into a bowl of red ochre beside him, Mog-ur drew a stripe from the point where the baby's brow ridges joined to the tip of his tiny nose with the paste. The baby gave a wriggle and a small sneeze at the smell, and an amused current ran around the gathering.

"Brun. The boy's name is Brun," Mog-ur said.

"Brun." Igra repeated proudly, re-covering and cuddling the baby. Then she stood and handed her mother the boy, taking the girl from her. Kneeling once more, she held up the tiny infant.

The Mog-ur repeated his actions.

"Iza. The girl's name is Iza," Mog-ur said.

The first rays of the sun broke over the top of the ridge, illuminating the scene.

Igra stood and took both babies in her arms as the Clans lined up to say the names and look at the pair of babies, familiarising themselves with the two newest members of the group, and their two illustrious names.

They stayed with Brac's clan for several days.

At a men's ceremony that night, Goov confirmed that Zorn was now the Mog-ur of the subsidiary coastal clan. The men shared memories under the guidance of both Mog-urs, with each taking charge towards the end as memories diverged between the north and the south, bringing them forward to the mud cave construction and finally back to the cave of Brac's clan in fitting conclusion.

A cooperative hunt was organized the next day and a fine bison was captured out on the plains. With so many hunters working in concert together and with Durc again working as Brac's Second while Vorn recovered, they were able to catch and transport the animal with minimal fuss back to the Cave.

The women shared knowledge of preparation of hides; the women of the former northern clan used an oil extracted from the lower legs of ungulates the men hunted to soften and preserve leather. It was a less time-consuming and easier method than softening the hides by rubbing fat in and as an added advantage, it could be used without the need for hot fires or bright sunshine, as the oil stayed liquid rather than solidifying in cold temperatures, as fat alone tended to do. The women of Durc's clan demonstrated how to take the lower legs of the bison, trim away the hooves, then boil the legs in a leather pot of water, skin and all. The fat that was released as an oil was skimmed off and kept in bowls for later use on the leather.

Choice pieces of bison were then prepared for the planned feast on the evening before Durc's clan would return to the coast. The women of both clans were busy cooking and preparing for the feast from early morning and delicious odours hung about the cave, making stomachs growl in anticipation.

The children of both clans were playing happily together, running about and squealing in delight with their new-found companions. The novelty of it all gave everybody a feeling of attending another Clan Gathering, and there was a light-hearted sense of holiday experienced by young and old alike.

And Durc noticed that Brac was taking individual men from the new clan to his hearth to talk privately with them. Durc was worried about this; from the surreptitious glances he caught cast his way by the men as they left the area of Brac's hearth, he guessed that Brac was quizzing them as to their views on how Durc was doing as a Leader Second, and he hoped that he was not found wanting.

For his part, Durc found the changes wrought in his old clan to be a big improvement over his memories of how it had been when he was younger. It was even more remarkable given the short length of time that Brac had been leader. It was hard to define the difference: Durc just felt that a measure of calm and purpose had replaced the petty resentments and feeling of constantly walking over thorny ground which had been the norm previously. It had been such a large part of life when he was younger that it was hugely noticeable once the pressure was lifted.

People seemed to have been more than ready for a change. Previously the clan had been split along lines of the younger men who had been partisan to Broud, and the older hunters who had remained loyal to Brun, even though the latter had no longer been leader.

And the women had had their factions also, as Durc knew from discussions he had with Uba. As a respected Medicine Woman with her own status, she had been told of the various factions and rivalries amongst the women. There had been a lot of unacknowledged tension previously, and the resulting lessening of that felt exhilarating.

Once more, they were a united clan, all the hunters grouped about their new leader. Brac was one of their own, he was respected as well as loved. They had watched him grow into a thoughtful and considerate young hunter under the tutelage of Brun.

The older hunters nodded to each other and spoke of how much Brac reminded them of Brun when he made decisions. He was measured and careful to look at all sides of an argument and hear all opinions before he made his rulings, and this they approved of.

The younger hunters were more settled and harmonious in their various roles. They saw in Brac a young man like themselves and strived to model their behaviour on his.

And the women were approving of Brac's respectful behaviour towards his mother and his obvious affection for his mate and her two new babies. He was consistently respectful towards Ebra, Brun's mate, and patient with the old lady whenever her memory began to wander and she would confuse him with Brun. His patience and care for the members of his family made him a role model some of the women wished their own mates would learn from.

Durc could only hope that such goodwill would be extended from his own new clan to him, as Leader Second. He wracked his brain trying to think of any decision he had made or action carried out since Brac left which would be considered outrageous or inexplicable. He wanted, more than anything else in the world, for his clan to be accepted and welcomed and for him to remain in his position. It was a status that filled him with pride, but more, it felt as if he had been born to the role, even after only fulfilling it since Brac had left. His own mind saw possibilities that tended to elude the others at first sight, and he used his knowledge of Custom and guidance from Mog-ur to make things easier for his hunters to realize his vision. But still, he worried.

So when he saw Brac approach that afternoon with Vorn limping on his crutch beside him and both Mog-urs following, he was filled with a sudden trepidation.

"Durc, could we have a word with you?" Brac asked. He gestured towards the Place of Spirits and Durc realized that all the hunters of the clan, from young Groob to old Seld, had gathered just outside the entrance and were waiting expectantly.

Durc swallowed against a suddenly dry throat; the implications of the fact that Vorn was now acting as Second to Brac was not lost on him. And they would be going into the Place of Spirits for the meeting? That must mean that the verdict had already been decided and would be enacted in there.

But he kept his eyes on Brac. "Of course Brac."

He followed his leader to the cave and the men respectfully parted to allow Brac, Vorn, both Mog-urs, and Durc through, then followed themselves.

Inside the smaller cave-within-a-cave no daylight reached, it was lit with torches and a single fire. The bones of Ursus sat at the end of the cave on an earthen ledge; they glittered weirdly in the light and appeared to move fractionally as the flames in the torches and the fire danced and sputtered.

All the men seated themselves around the fire, in attitudes careful of their individual status within the two Clans. Durc faced Brac, and try as he might to catch either Zorn, Goov or Vorn's eyes, their faces remained non-committal. Durc was sure that he had somehow committed some grievous transgression and Brac was about to dismiss him from his position.

He wondered miserably what he had done to fail them all so badly. Was it that his idea to teach the women to swim and have them catch lobsters and crabs and oysters, like the Sea Kin, was just a little too outrageous?

Or was it that his decision to start building another smaller mud cave for Mog-ur as a Place of the Spirits would be seen as disrespectful to Custom?

Maybe Brac did not approve of the headbands they all now wore, there had been some uncertain looks and comments about that since his clan had arrived. Maybe Durc should have banned them but they had seemed an interesting and harmless novelty at the time and now he would feel undressed without his.

Or …oh, maybe it was his decision to try for a mountain ibex? He had stationed hunters with thrown spears waiting at the top of the cliff in ambush and he and Rog had remained underneath. As the two most accurate sling-casters, they had slung rocks at the herd they had seen on the cliffs to move them on up to get them in range of the spears as they crested the summit. Bool had protested at the time that it could not work, but both Rog and Bard had backed him up in his decision enthusiastically and it had turned out well. They had managed to kill a fine specimen with huge horns when it came within range over the crest, plus Bard had a large doe entirely to his credit – his long spear-cast had caught the animal as she was still climbing. Nobody had needed to climb the cliff to get close enough to jab a spear and the animal had tumbled down the rocks to the hunter's feet on the ground when Bard's thrown spear had struck home.

However, there was no doubt that he'd never seen anybody else in the clan hunt like that before, maybe it had been one of those obscure breaches of Custom that Goov always used to warn him about when he was younger. ..

He wished Brac would get on with it, the wait was making his head pound.

"You must have realized, Durc," Brac began finally, once everybody was settled, "that I have been speaking to every hunter in the coastal clan about their opinions as to how you have performed as Leader Second. However, I am of the opinion that we can not go on as two clans with a single leader. I feel it is unviable to continue on in this way for much longer. And particularly once winter arrives again, we will be separated by too much snow to easily travel between the two groups, should we need to meet for discussion on any problems that may arise."

Durc nodded. So they would all be moving back to this cave and become one clan again. And he had thought it had been going so well…

"I have considered what everybody has said about you, and I have to say … "

Durc drew a deep breath and sat up straighter. Here came the verdict.

"…that I have been very favourably impressed with reports of your work since I left. In fact, I am so impressed that I wish to elevate you to the position of leader of the coastal clan, which will hereafter be known as Durc's clan. If you accept, that is."

Durc gasped. What? He was left floundering for a second, unable to take in Brac's meaning. He stared wildly at him and saw the hint of quiet amusement in the other man's deep-set eyes.

"The hunters all agree that you are a good leader," Brac continued. "You have some…unusual ideas, but they have all proved to be efficient and to the greater good of the clan. The women are content and many are now pregnant. The children are growing and vigorous. Rog tells me you have already set aside a very adequate amount of food and materials for the winter. And your Mog-ur is glowing in his praise as to your interpretation of Custom. I am more than satisfied. Would you consider accepting, to continue the good work you have already done so far?"

Durc swallowed. This had been the very last thing he had expected.

But as he thought about it, he saw in his mind's eye what it could mean – a prosperous community of mud caves, just as Vorn had foreseen, with many children and people. He could do it now, he could make it come true!

He met Brac's gaze again and raised his hands. "This man is honoured by your faith in me, Brac. I accept. I accept with all my heart."

Brac nodded. "Then you are now leader of your own clan, Durc, formerly of Broud's clan, and formerly my Second. We will have the ceremony now in the Place of the Spirits, and announce it to the women at the feast this evening."

23

They left the cave of Brac's clan after the midday meal the next day. Although not so burdened with gifts to give as they had been at the outset, they now had an equal number of burdens in the form of gifts from Brac's clan to carry back.

The weather continued fine, but hot. So they made camp after only a couple of hours, in the late afternoon in the shade of a wooded copse by a small creek of fresh water, to allow the children, pregnant women and old Seld to rest. They were in no hurry; they would reach their mud cave the next day easily. And since there was not a cloud in the sky they did not bother with tents. The women began to cook a communal meal for them all as the sun set, casting long shadows onto the fields of ripening grain surrounding the copse.

Durc saw Mog-ur sitting off to one side, gazing back the way he had come with an odd expression on his face. He walked over to the man and handed him a cup of cool water, dipped from the stream, then sat beside him on a fallen log. "What are your thoughts, my friend? You seem so far away."

Mog-ur took the proferred cup. One handed, he answered, "I think Great Ursus has been… trying to get a message to me…"

Durc sipped from his own cup, his interest piqued. In the time he had known Zorn, the man had often had strange presentiments which he claimed were from Ursus. Since these invariably tended to come true, Durc was prepared to believe that they were from the spirit world.

"I feel," Mog-ur continued, "a great…change is on the way." He put his free hand to the back of his head musingly. "A sudden sharp pain, here. And then … something involving you, Durc…it is unclear. Like going inside the mud cave after time spent outside at noon. Everything is as it should be, but you cannot properly see until your eyes adjust. Also…" He stopped, his pale blue eyes narrowing as he concentrated on the spirit world visible only to him.

"Also?" Durc prompted.

"I have the strangest feeling that we are being followed," Mog-ur replied.

Durc felt a sudden chill despite the heat of the day. Although the sun still shone brightly out of a cloudless sky, it was as if a cloud had suddenly passed over its face, dimming the waving field of grain they had been trekking through that afternoon.

Mog-ur sensed his unease and shook off his presentiment. "How do you feel, being leader of your own clan?" he gestured.

Durc smiled, relieved at the change of subject. "I hardly know yet, Mog-ur! It was such a surprise yesterday, when Brac told me. That was rather cruel of you all," he added. "I was sure I was about to be set back in the ranks of the hunters, lower even than young Groob!"

Mog-ur relaxed and his expression was pleased. "You should have seen your face, my friend! It was all we, Brac and Goov and I, could do to keep our body language strict and stern. Yes, it was cruel of us, but Brac wanted it to be a surprise for you. Mog-ur of Brac's clan told me of it yesterday. Have you decided yet who you will choose as your Second?"

"I have been giving it some thought as we travelled today," Durc admitted. "I did think at first of Bard, although he is very young still, he and I have a similar way of looking at the world, our ideas are often compatible. Is he still set on becoming your acolyte?"

Mog-ur nodded. "I think he will be a good fit for that role and to become a Mog-ur in his turn. He seems to have a real affinity for the magical numbers in particular, and has a good memory. And I think with adequate training he should manage to direct the brains of the others in ceremonies; he has a tendency to try to walk a different path when the memories get close to the present, but he can be nudged back easily enough. However, that means that he cannot be your Second."

Durc nodded. He already knew as much. "I thought next of Bool," Durc said. "As the oldest man apart from Seld, he is more experienced than the other active hunters. But he is…less flexible than I would like. Things need to be spelled out to him several times and even then he does have a tendency to disagree, simply because something has not been done before."

Mog-ur nodded. "I have noticed that too. It is not that he is argumentative for the sake of argument, but I do think he struggles to understand some ideas that are outside of his scope."

"Gond, Goud and Verg are good hunters and follow well," Durc mused, thinking out loud. "That is just the trouble, they are followers and I need somebody as a Second who can be, if not unconventional, at least able to grasp what I am trying to do and help to make it a reality. I must say, of all of them I would prefer Bard. But since he is unavailable, then I consider that Rog would be most suitable."

Mog-ur took another sip from his cup, thinking about it. "Yes, I believe Rog could be a very adequate second. He does seem a lot more flexible in his ideas than the others; he must have worked very hard to become so proficient with the sling, for instance, which is often thought of, rightly or wrongly, as an old man's weapon. And he is almost as good with the thrown spear as you and Bard. He works very hard practicing with that. He seems to enjoy learning new things, I have noticed that he has a hunger for knowledge and to improve himself."

"Bool told me once that it was Rog who conceived of the idea and persuaded the others to come to the Coastal Clan in search of mates," Durc gestured. "I think Bool would have stayed behind in Norg's Clan if he could, but the thought of losing the son of his mate so soon after his first mate died was too much for him and he let himself be persuaded." He stood up and stretched. "I think I will go and tell Rog now that I would like him to be my Second."

"I will come with you, if I may," Mog-ur said, standing also.

Durc nodded. "I would be grateful, your presence will add the sanction of the spirits to my decision. We can have a ceremony confirming it tomorrow after we get home. What a pity the new Place of the Spirits is not yet finished!"

"It won't be much longer, if we continue to work as well as we did on the mud cave, we can have it finished before the leaves fall," Mog-ur gestured. "I too am looking forward to the ceremonies we will have in there."

Something was subtly wrong. Durc sensed it even as they climbed the slope leading to the mud cave around noon the next day. It was a vague feeling of … something not quite right.

Durc lengthened his stride, suddenly anxious. As he topped the rise he stopped and stared open-mouthed. He felt Mog-ur and Rog come up beside him and stop also, and heard Mog-ur's gasp.

Before them, the mud cave stood with its smaller half-finished Place of the Spirits beside it, but…the Place of the Spirits had been smashed! Or at least, the exposed wood framework above the level of the mud coating was broken, some of the saplings they had used had been wrenched out of the ground where their bases had been buried. Parts of the mud wall had been knocked down onto the ground and lay in a heap of crumbled mud.

Their belongings from the main mud cave were strewn about on the ground: furs and leather had been ripped and tossed carelessly about. Grass seating mats lay in disarray on the ground. The main stone cache where they stored dried meat for winter had been broken open. A pair of wolves were busily devouring some preserved meat; they glanced up warily as they saw the humans appear and slunk off into the forest, followed by a wolverine and some wild cats who had all managed to join in the bonanza of food spread around. Baskets of grain had been brought out of the mud cave and upended on the ground; a flock of small birds taking advantage of the grain whirred up at their approach.

Slowly Durc and his clan walked through the scene of devastation. Everybody was too stunned to speak. As he got to the main mud cave Durc saw a broken spear lying on the ground. There were some long scratches on the outside of the mud wall where the charred point had been repeatedly dug in with some force, but the thick clay wall was tempered and hardened by a spring and summer of hot sun and had withstood the violence wreaked upon it with only insignificant damage. Instead, it appeared the spear had broken and been dropped beside the wall when it could no longer inflict any major wound on the tough sun-baked terra cotta. The newer Place of the Spirits showed far more damage – it was evident that the clan would have to clear away the damage there and rebuild it completely.

The people were wandering through the scene in a state of shock, picking up ripped mats or other belongings and dropping them again, staring about in disbelief.

Oona made a noise of disgust as she lifted the lid ajar on a basket of roots. Black flies whirred up, and they could see that the roots had been defecated upon. Others were drawing back with grimaces from grain ruined by urine.

"What animal could have done this much damage?" Bool said in bewildered tones, gazing about.

Rog knelt to examine something in a patch of mud from the destroyed Place of Spirits. "Durc!" he called, then pointed. "It was no animal that left that," he gestured.

A partial print could clearly be seen left imprinted in the crumbled mud. A bare human foot.

Durc straightened from examining the print, and clapped his hands three times. When he had the attention of all, he gestured, "Everybody, find whatever you can salvage. Whatever cannot be saved or is too badly damaged, pile it into the Place of the Spirits and we will burn it as an offering to placate the Evil Ones."

The whole clan seemed to take heart now that they had something constructive to do. Rog began to organize the hunters to check their other stores and caches of food.

As everybody turned to start the job of cleaning up, Mog-ur said to Durc privately, "This was no spirit, Durc. You must know that. Spirits may make the weather, the lightning and the thunder, they make the ground shake and grant success or otherwise in the hunt. But this … all of this… has been done by a human. A human left that footprint. But I fear it was a human possessed by an evil spirit."

Durc nodded. "I also feel a human agency in this sort of wanton destruction. Remember what you said yesterday, when we camped, that you felt we were being followed from Brac's clan?"

"Yes. It seems my premonition was correct. Whoever it was concealed themself from us and perhaps, once we camped, travelled onwards to here. The trail is easy enough to follow. And once here, they attacked the caves. But to what purpose?" The last was gestured in frustration.

Durc gazed about him. "Somebody was in a rage, somebody wanted to hit us where it hurt. What better way to do that than to destroy the home we have built?"

Rog re-joined them. "I looked inside the mud cave," he reported. "The damage is not so bad that we cannot repair it. And I went to the other caches of food we have in cairns behind the cave. Whoever it was did not see them, we still have enough to support us. The hides and leathers also did not appear to be significantly damaged."

Oona joined the trio now, folding gracefully to her knees in front of Durc. When he tapped her shoulder, she said, "This woman has checked her magic plants. I still have what I took with me when I went to Brac's clan. But everything else has been scattered or spoiled, trampled into the dust. Most of my plants are used dry and those have all been destroyed."

Durc could see the anger in her body language at such a waste of potentially life-saving medicines.

As Oona and Rog left to direct the cleanup and repairs, Durc said to Mog-ur, "I am loathe to mention this, Mog-ur. And … please do tell me if I am being fanciful. How long does it usually take from being Death Cursed for the body of the Cursed to actually stop working?"

Mog-ur looked grim. "I know of who you are thinking. Before this happened, I would have said the longest they could keep moving would be a few days. Even those who do not leave but have to be driven away just remain about the outskirts of their clan and become too weak to move after two or three days. They stop eating and drinking and just seem to sit and fade. But now…" He shook his head. "This is unprecedented."

Durc considered. "Uba has told me about my mother, my birth mother, Ayla. Once, before I was born, she transgressed Custom. But she saved Brac's life while doing so."

Mog-ur nodded. He had also watched the history of Brac and Ayla told over the winter months. It had become a favourite of this clan.

"The leader at the time, Brun, ordered her to undergo a limited Death Curse," Durc continued. "He couldn't make it permanent because she saved Brac's life. He felt he owed her a chance." Durc took a deep breath here. "Uba told me that her totem placed her in a cave for safety and went to fight the Evil Ones in the spirit land for her. The limited Death Curse was for one moon. She lived."

"Before having met you, and seeing that history," Mog-ur gestured, "I would have thought that the teller had somehow misinterpreted the story, was somehow in error. I would not have believed that a person could survive for one moon under a Death Curse, even a limited one. But I have memories of one such limited Death Curse, imposed during the time of the ancestors. There was a man who was cursed for ten days." He held up both hands briefly, all fingers extended. Durc nodded his understanding of the number.

"He had transgressed by taking the life of another hunter. The two had always disliked each other and never worked well together. It came to a head that there was a dispute between them as to something that occurred in a hunt where the prey got away. They came to blows and the first man claimed he was defending himself when attacked. There were some concerns that this may have been the case, it was ambiguous as to what had actually happened. Because of this, the leader at the time imposed a limited Death Curse upon him. When the Curse's duration was over, nobody expected him to come back. But he returned apparently unharmed by his ordeal. He told the Mog-ur and leader of the time that his totem had saved him and made him see the error of his ways. He said because he was truly innocent he knew that he could eat and drink and return. He re-joined the Clan and none spoke of it again. But the story tells that he was a changed man who regretted his transgression and tried to make amends to the family of the hunter killed."

"So it is possible to survive a limited Death Curse," Durc mused. "As Ayla did."

Mog-ur held up a restraining hand. "I have only ever heard of it twice before, the story I just told you and the story of your mother's ordeal. But…you are thinking about the previous leader of Brac's clan, are you not?"

Durc nodded. "Yes. I am thinking of…Broud." The name came out sounding strange, nobody liked to say his name aloud since he was Cursed. It gave Durc an eerie feeling to say it now, as if the name itself gave power to the Evil Spirit. "But that was not a limited Death Curse, Mog-ur. So how could his body still be viable?"

Mog-ur was grim. "Goov told me of something Broud had said, right after he had been Cursed. Goov, as Mog-ur, could of course 'see' and speak to the Evil Spirit. Broud told him that he had already decided, before the Curse, that Goov was no longer Mog-ur of his clan. For none but a Mog-ur can actually set the curse, we are the only ones who know the names to speak and how to place the bones. If he truly believed that Goov was no longer Mog-ur, then perhaps the Evil One within him saw that as a way to allow the body to keep moving, eating and drinking. It is the only explanation I can think of, if this destruction is something he has caused."

Mog-ur paused, calculating times. "But it has been…nearly five moons since he was Death Cursed. Five moons! I have never heard, in any history or memory, of a body that could last so long."

Durc gazed about him. The area around them was rapidly being tidied and the pile of offerings in the destroyed Place of Spirits was growing. The day was hot and clear; yet Durc felt a chill, the breath of the supernatural, watching and waiting with evil eyes and a vengeful heart.

"He would have remembered, too, of my mother's return after being Death Cursed. That may have been of aid to him as well, to realize that it was possible. He was a stubborn man in life, never to be dissuaded about anything once he set his mind to it," Durc gestured. "And if it was who we believe it to be," he added slowly, "then I think it will be a very good idea for nobody to venture from the area of the mud cave by themselves…"

But it seemed as if their worry was misplaced. Nothing untoward occurred as the summer progressed, and everybody began to relax, believing that the Evil One had returned to the spirit world where it belonged. Durc's clan had good hunting and the rock cairns were again full of dried meat as the leaves on the trees of the forest began to change colour heralding autumn's arrival.

Since their return, the women went out foraging in a group with Bard and Seld as protectors, just in case. Old Seld was still spry enough to carry a light spear and was still as accurate with his sling as any of the hunters apart from Durc and Rog, and could keep up adequately with the group of slow-moving women and children.

Oona, though, was another matter. As Medicine Woman, she required to refill her pharmacopoeia with the various plants that had been destroyed and these were not always in the same places as the food plants foraged by the main group. In this case, Mog-ur as her mate would accompany her and her baby daughter as she collected her magical plants.

It was annoying, as it meant that the men could not all hunt as a group. But it was not a huge drawback, as they rarely had to resort to running the prey to exhaustion any more. The thrown spears made a huge difference, allowing them to approach a herd without having to physically run a lance into an animal. And Rog and Durc made a big contribution also with their accuracy with the slings, bringing down smaller game with relative ease.

By the time the leaves began to drop, Durc's clan was again well-provisioned, with stored vegetables, dried meat and fruit, leathers and furs, and all the essentials for a comfortable winter in the mud cave. The ashes where the Place of the Spirits had been was cleared away and a new Place of the Spirits begun on the opposite side from the defiled area. Due to the work needed to re-provision, Durc had decided to put off the rebuilding until next spring. So it was still only a cleared circle of ground and holes dug around the outside ready for the framework. Until then, the back of the mud cave was adequate, if a little crowded, for the men to hold their ceremonies.

24

It was on a cold clear day in late autumn that Enna went into labour.

Most people were inside the mud cave getting ready for the midday meal. Enna was sitting on a large flat boulder which Bard and Durc had brought in for her use, since sitting on the ground had become increasingly difficult as her pregnancy progressed. While she could get down to sit on the ground, getting up again was problematic; the rock was easier for her to rise from. She was busily shelling some podded vegetables into a wooden bowl beside her and suddenly stopped, a strange look appearing on her face.

"Oona?" she said quietly. Although it was softy spoken, something about the intensity, or the tremulousness of it, made work and conversations in the mud cave cease as all heads turned to the young woman. The air was suddenly electric with expectation.

Oona rose gracefully and went to Enna. "Is it time?" she gestured.

Enna nodded. Putting her bowl onto the ground she drew a deep breath and gestured, "I think it is."

Oona and Evya helped the expectant young woman up from the rock and led her to Bard's hearth, where she lay down to rest on her sleeping fur.

The men gathered at Rog's hearth to give the women room to help Enna. At the hearth, the men apparently became engrossed in some deep discussion, but the occasional surreptitious glances betrayed their real concern.

All the women visited the hearth periodically throughout the day to check on their youngest woman's progress, sometimes staying for a while, offering moral support by their presence, chatting about ordinary things, all the food they had stored, the change in the weather; however all but the smallest of the children could see their concern from their expressions and posture.

Bard, sitting at Mog-ur's side, had trouble paying attention to the inconsequential talk about the next hunt the men would make. He was pale, his eyes straying constantly to his hearth.

As the long afternoon wore on, Bard's agitation grew. He participated in the gestured discussions less and less. Particularly when his young mate began to strain and gasp at each new contraction, Bard would start. All the men could see his worry.

Old Seld put his hand comfortingly on the young man's shoulder. "It is all right, Bardelmarn," he spoke the formal name and gestured at the same time. "All new mothers go through birth pains. Both of my mates told me that once they have the babe in their arms, they consider the pain worth it."

"You must have seen women give birth before," Rog added matter-of-factly. "It is a common enough occurrence."

Bard looked down, embarrassed. "It is the first time for my mate," he gestured. "I… dislike to see her in pain."

Durc also felt concern for the young woman he had so nearly mated. He was very fond of Enna and hated to see her struggle. Of course, he also had seen births before; in the close confines of a clan, sex, birth and death were never hidden. Growing up he had witnessed women labour to give birth. He knew that some births took a long time, particularly when it was a woman's first-born. But still, he worried. This would be the first baby born since the mud cave was built and since he had become leader. There was every possibility that Enna and the baby would be perfectly all right, but still, women, even young, healthy ones like Enna, could have difficult pregnancies and sometimes the mother and the baby died. He did not like to think about Enna or her baby dying.

The long afternoon finally drew to a close. One by one, the women gathered at Bard's hearth left to prepare evening meals. Oona and Evya stayed with Enna as she rode out each contraction. Rog's mate prepared food for Durc, Mog-ur, Bard and Seld. But nobody had much appetite.

After eating, the children were put into their beds and their mothers sat beside them, hands gesturing languidly as they told stories from the long history of the clan to sleepy little ones.

The men were curiously indifferent to sleep as the night wore on. All could hear Enna struggling now, occasionally moaning in pain.

Suddenly, Enna's scared voice rang out. "Bard! Bard!"

Bard sprang up from his seated position and was across the floor before anybody else could move. He skidded into his hearth and was on his knees by his mate in an instant, taking one of her hands in both of his. Their eyes met and Enna seemed to calm.

It was against all Custom, but Oona waved away Evya's shocked look. "My sibling may stay, if it helps," she motioned gently, and indeed it seemed that Bard's presence seemed to give Enna strength. She began to focus more on her breathing and pushing with her mate holding tightly to her hand.

The group of men had watched Bard's departure in amazement, but Bool snorted now. "Such foolish nonsense about a woman," he gestured dismissively.

Seld regarded him coolly and gestured with dignity, "That young man is the son of my mate, the child of my hearth. If he feels his presence gives his mate assistance that is his business, and not yours."

Bool stared at the elder for a moment, then, abashed, looked back into the flames of the hearth. "This man meant no disrespect," he gestured heavily after a moment. "It's just that every woman gives birth, and every one of them makes a huge fuss. I merely mean that a man should not concern himself with such trivial matters."

Seld settled back and the other men breathed easier. Open argument between hunters disturbed them. Since the difference of opinion had resolved itself, Durc did not intervene. They all returned to discussing the various points in favour for, or against, how many balls a bola should properly have for most efficient use.

But Durc found himself wondering - was birth so painful? It certainly looked like it. He wondered if he could have endured a similar pain for so many hours without crying out, at least once or twice. A man's worth was measured by his stoic acceptance of pain and hardship. It was thought of as a laudable quality. In that case, he thought, Enna was not "making a huge fuss". She was not screaming and begging Oona to make the pain go away. In fact, now that Bard was with her, she had settled and was going about the exhausting business of giving life to another with commendable focus. Durc admired her stoicism.

In the dim pre-light just before dawn, there was a sudden flurry of activity. Oona and Evya helped Enna into a squatting position over the birthing leather. Still holding tightly to Bard's hand, Enna bore down, gritting her teeth around a clenched moan as the baby's head crowned.

Oona, in position, gestured encouragingly. "That's it, Enna! Another just like that, push!"

Enna strained, breathing hard, and cried out in pained effort.

The baby's head appeared in a gush of birth waters, easing out as Oona helped to support it. Then the whole baby was delivered onto the birthing hide, tiny and red and squirming.

Oona picked up the baby and cleared its mouth of obstructions. A last effort, panting breaths and a final heave from Enna and the placenta was delivered. Evya helped Enna to lay back down. And then Oona placed the newborn onto Enna's stomach, thumping it gently on the feet, making it take its first independent breath followed by a tiny wail.

It seemed as if the whole clan in the mud cave gave a huge sigh of relief at that sound. Oona tied a piece of red-dyed sinew around the umbilical cord and with a sharp flint knife cut off the part still attached to the placenta. Only then did she lift the baby for Enna to see.

Evya stood up and went to Rog's hearth to report Enna's successful delivery and the gender of the baby to Durc, but there was something in her body language that made him wonder what the problem was. She sat in front of Durc, bowed her head and looked up at his tap on her shoulder.

"This woman is happy to report," Evya gestured, making the customary sign for joy. "Enna's baby is a boy."

Seld gave a crow of delight, but Durc focused on Evya, who looked uncomfortable. "What else did you want to tell me, Evya?" he asked gravely.

Evya looked down, then gestured, "The child is deformed."

Durc felt his stomach drop. It was the very last thing he had expected. All the men had fallen quiet now. Durc signalled Mog-ur with his eyes, and the pair stood up to go and examine the infant.

As they approached the hearth they saw that Oona had swaddled the baby in a soft chamois leather blanket and Enna held the infant, gazing at it in flickering light cast by the hearth fire. Bard also seemed entranced, staring with pride on his face at the tiny son his mate had borne.

As the two men approached, Enna carefully kept her eyes on the ground as Custom demanded, and uncovered the baby for Durc and Mog-ur to inspect.

Durc was not sure what he had expected to see when Evya had reported that the baby was deformed. He saw simply a newborn baby, a little more slender than other newborns perhaps, less chunky and with longer legs, but not markedly so.

Durc's eyes travelled up the little body and saw that the face was very slightly different from other Clan infants. For one thing, he had a small but definite chin. He had brow ridges but they were muted. His fuzz of blonde hair was several shades lighter than Bard's, but under it his head was crowned. Like Bard's head. And like Durc's head. Apart from his lighter skin and hair colour, he could have been any of the Sea Kin babies that Durc had seen during the summer spent with them.

Durc looked away from the baby for a moment and met Bard's eyes.

"Bard would speak, Durc," the young man said nervously.

"Bard may speak."

"My mate's baby is…slightly deformed. My sibling Oona said that I looked similar at my birth, with longer legs than normal, and my head rounded on top. Even more rounded than this baby." He touched his chin. "And with this bump of bone here. Oona told me that there was some discussion after my birth about my future value to the clan as a hunter; some favoured exposing me because of my differences.

'Seld however spoke up for me as the mate of my mother. He said that he would be responsible for my training and that he would see to it I would not disgrace the clan if only they let me live." Bard gazed down at the infant in his mate's arms. The look of fondness on his face for the tiny newborn was unmistakable. He met Durc's eyes again. "Well, I am now a hunter of the clan. And Mog-ur's acolyte. I feel that I have proved myself, and proved my right to live. So now I ask you, Durc, not as my friend, but as my leader, to let the child live despite his deformities. As the mate of his mother, I will be responsible for his training and see to it that he is a credit to this clan."

Durc stared at the young man; he had never been told this about Bard before, that there had been serious discussions at his birth about whether or not he should live.

"Bard," Durc said slowly, "Maybe I should have mentioned this before now, but when I was born, I was very nearly exposed to the elements as well. I looked so different from what they were used to. There were serious doubts that I would ever be able to hunt. Uba told me that my neck was so weak that my head used to wobble. Some said that I would always be a burden because of it. The Mog-ur at the time, Creb, spoke for me as the man of the hearth of my mother Ayla. He begged the leader to let me live.

'I feel more and more kinship to you, Bard. Because both our lives hung in the balance at the moment of our birth. Like you, I had to work to prove myself to the others. Yet despite all that, here we both are, you a dedicated acolyte to Mog-ur, and I…well, somehow, I am now leader of my own clan. It seems it is not how we appear at birth that defines us, but the choices we make and how we choose to act. You and I, Bard, have always had to keep pushing through the limitations placed on us by the expectations of others."

Durc looked again at the baby, once more swaddled in the soft chamois. "This little one is the first of my clan to be born. Perhaps it was your spirit that made him, Bard, since he does

resemble you. I will not condemn him for such a small reason as a differently-shaped head." He ran his hand absently over his own rounded head before gesturing, "What are your thoughts, Mog-ur?"

Mog-ur did not answer at once. When Durc glanced at him, he saw that the holy man had his eyes focused, not on the infant, but seemingly fixed on some distant spot. Durc recognized that far-seeing gaze; Mog-ur was looking into the spirit world, seeing something no ordinary human could see. After a second, he blinked, coming back to the present time and place. Only then did he raise his hands.

"This baby is the first of many I saw in my vision from Great Ursus," he said solemnly. "Like all those who will live in the mud caves we will build here. He resembles Bard. And Durc. And even Seld. When I look at this baby, I do not see deformity. In this baby, I see our future."

animal."

25

An animal had been breaking into the storage cache at the back of the mud cave. Rog and Durc were examining the damage done.

"This is the second time in as many days that the stones have been moved," Rog reported. "The first time I simply refilled the cache with dried meat and put more stones on top, thinking it may have been a wolverine. But there are no prints left, the area is clean."

Durc looked at the scattered stones lying strewn about. "It does look like something a wolverine would do," he agreed. "It must be a determined one, to break repeatedly into the cache. I think we should abandon this cache and build another at the front of the mud cave, where we can keep a closer watch on it. And we should put more stones on top to deter our wolverine. We are well stocked for winter, but I dislike losing any of our hard-won meat to some scavenging

Rog nodded and began to collect up the stones. "I will move these to the front of the cave," he gestured.

"I will send out one of the women with a basket to help," Durc answered. "We may as well make a start in digging a new hole for the cache now, before the ground becomes frozen."

As Durc entered the mud cave he looked to see who was available to help Rog. His gaze passed over Bard's hearth, then returned for a second. Enna was not there with her baby. Bard was sitting with Mog-ur at the back of the cave, the spot designated for the time being for ceremonies. He was watching intently to something Mog-ur was saying, repeating the gestures as he memorised the lesson. Oona was with some of the other women, cracking grain prior to parching it. Durc walked up to her. She looked up expectantly as he strode over to them.

"Oona, send one of the women out with a digging stick and a basket. Rog is collecting the stones at the back cache, we will be digging another closer to the front."

Oona nodded and turned to Emai. The woman stood up and went to her hearth to collect what was required.

"By the way," Durc said, "I noticed that…your new patient… is not at her hearth?"

"She was feeling much better today," Oona said. "It has been two days since the birth. I saw her take a covered package with her, so I think she must have decided to go and bury the placenta. You know it has to be done somewhere that only the mother will know."

At Oona's gestures, Durc suddenly felt a little creeping alarm that he was hard-put to explain – as if a finger of ice had suddenly run down his spine. He glanced about, mentally adding up who was in the Mud Cave. "Did she take Ahma and Evya with her?"

Oona shook her head. "No, Ahma is collecting water from the stream with Evya. They should be back in a moment."

"But then…Oona, don't tell me she went out by herself? Alone into the woods?"

"Well, she took the baby in a carrying cloak…" Oona narrowed her eyes. "I thought the danger from the spirit that tried to destroy the Mud Cave was gone now, we all did. Oh Durc! Don't tell me we are still in danger! But Mog-ur made us all protective amulets to wear…"

Durc shook his head, the presentiment refusing to let him be. "I don't know, Oona. I hope I'm mistaken. But I think I should go and get Bard and Rog and track her, just to be safe…"

He was interrupted by some frightened cries coming from outside the Mud Cave, along with a baby wailing. Everyone ran out to see what the commotion was about. Ahma and Evya were at the forest edge, supporting a dishevelled Enna, who was clutching her baby to her, gasping and crying in fear as the baby also howled.

"Enna!" Bard ran to his mate, with Durc and most of the rest of the Clan just behind him.

They were all gathered back inside the Mud Cave. Custom demanded that a woman who had given birth could not be "seen" by the men for seven days afterwards, her contacts restricted to other women and any men living at her hearth, the modified Women's Curse. To allow everybody to "see" what Enna had to say, she was telling her story to Oona. Oona then repeated the gestures. The women watched Enna, but the men watched Oona.

"I had finished covering the hole I had dug," Oona repeated Enna's gestures. "I picked up my baby and tucked him back into the hide I was using to carry him and keep him warm. I was starting back to the Cave when …something…a monster? …A spirit? It jumped out from behind a tree and started making the signal for me to relieve its needs! But I was too scared to obey! I knew it couldn't be a man, because I am still under the Woman's Curse, how could a living man see me? So I knew it was not of this world. It was terrifying, it kept coming towards me, dragging one leg and snarling while it made the signal and I kept backing up. And it smelled! There was an unhealed wound on the thing's shoulder, all oozing pus and horrible!"

At this Oona stopped, for Enna, shaking, had buried her face in her mate's shoulder for comfort. As her mate, Bard was still allowed to "see" her at his hearth, and he had refused to leave her side for a moment. He put his arms comfortingly around his mate, holding her until she had finished shaking.

Finally, she raised her hands and resumed her story. "I knew it must be a spirit," Oona repeated. "And so I ran! The thing, the Evil One, ran after me, but I could see that its leg still dragged, and it was slower than I was. It nearly caught up to me once or twice, but I was able to dodge around trees to evade it in time. I ran faster than I ever had before, and I clutched my baby to me, but the jostling scared him, I think, and he began to cry."

Here Oona paused again as Enna glanced down at her baby, who had stopped his frightened crying and was calm once more, lying on a hide by his mother's side, staring up at her face solemnly from wide blue-grey eyes.

Enna continued, with Oona repeating, "I think the thing, the monster, stopped following me, I couldn't hear it crashing about anymore, but I kept running without looking back until I saw Ahma and Evya at the stream and screamed to them for help."

"Oona," Durc said, "Ask what this …spirit…looked like."

Oona relayed the question, then answered, "It was wearing the shape of a man. Very thin, as if it had not eaten properly for some time. No clothing, but…oh! A sling was wrapped about its waist! And it had some rags of hide or something sort of wadded and tied to its shoulder where the oozing was. Its eyes…they were mad eyes. I should have obeyed it and assumed the position as it demanded. But I feared it and feared for my baby."

"Tell her she did the right thing," Mog-ur urged his own mate reassuringly. "Tell her she is a good Clan woman and it is not wrong to disobey an Evil Spirit. They cannot be trusted. She showed great good sense to trust her own instincts in this case, and get herself and her baby back here to safety."

Enna seemed to be calming down a little, sitting at her hearth with her mate, Seld and the women surrounding her, and with Mog-ur insisting that she had acted correctly. Oona gave her a calming tea to drink while the men, including Bard, went to Mog-ur's hearth to discuss the development.

"Well, that explains what has been breaking into our food cache lately," Durc gestured grimly.

Rog nodded agreement. "I thought it odd that a wolverine would leave no pawprints."

"But, what is it?" Bool gestured in frustration.

"Isn't it obvious?" Mog-ur replied. "The Evil Spirit that was inhabiting the body of Broud is still there. It must have followed us from the cave of Brac's Clan, here to the coast."

Every man felt a chill. A body, dead for so long, still animated by an Evil Spirit?

"No wonder it stunk," Rog said with a shudder.

"Could it still be a danger, Mog-ur? If it had caught up with Enna, would it have harmed her?" Seld asked.

Mog-ur thought about it for a moment. "I think it could be very dangerous. Not only to Enna and the other women and children, but to us all," he answered finally. "There are memories of those who Evil Spirits have inhabited. They do not seem to feel pain as other people do. They can inflict immense damage."

"But how can we see it, Mog-ur?" Bard asked. "Enna saw it, clearly. She was even able to describe it."

"I think that it is because the body is still being animated by the Evil Spirit," Mog-ur said contemplatively. "The life force has gone but the body is still active enough to fool us. That is the Evil Spirit's power, it is a trickster. I was told by Mog-ur-before-me about Death Curses where children and mates have been lured away by such bodies. They will act so lifelike that a person can be fooled into thinking they are still alive. But if you go with them, they will send you to the spirit world in their stead. I think it very lucky that Enna was able to see it and run from it. I doubt it just wanted to relieve its needs with her. She and the baby would have been killed."

"So that was what destroyed our Place of the Spirits, and tried to destroy the Mud Cave, earlier in the summer," Durc mused. "Can we drive it back to the Spirit world, Mog-ur? Is there any way?"

Mog-ur nodded. "The earthly body transporting it will have to be destroyed," he answered. "Most Death Curses cause the body to stop working after a few days, but this Spirit has managed to keep the body animated and is causing havoc while it still can. I think it is significant that Enna reported the injuries the body has sustained – a dragging leg, a stinking shoulder wound, thin and ragged. It is beginning to break down."

"I am amazed that it managed to keep going for so long," Verg gestured.

"I'm not." Everybody looked at Seld. "Among my former people, the S'Armunai, we have a similar punishment to a Death Curse for those who have offended against Custom, those who are dangerous. They are 'Banished'," and he pronounced the spoken word slowly before continuing in gestures. "We drive them away from the cave, but sometimes they are still seen, in some cases a moon cycle later, hanging about, spying on their former people, plotting mischief."

"What did you do with those?" Durc asked.

"If they are caught still in the area after being Banished, they are killed," Seld replied. "They are too dangerous to the others, trying to send children, for instance, to the Spirit World in their place." Here the old man nodded acknowledgement to Mog-ur's previous statement. "It seems that they believe they can stay in the human world if they placate their Evil Spirit with other victims in their stead. This sounds like a similar case. And we see it because it still has a spirit inside it, albeit an evil one. "

"But …if the body has no shelter or food stores, surely the coming winter will kill it?" Gond spoke up.

"I just don't know, Gond," Mog-ur conceded. "I would have thought a Death Curse would have been the end of it. Apparently not. This Evil Spirit is tenacious."

"I want it found and sent back to the spirit world!" Durc motioned angrily. "It threatens our clan, our cave, our people! We will hunt it down and we will finish the job that was started with the Death Curse!"

The other men looked heartened at this call to action by their leader. Doing something positive was far preferable to dwelling on stories that chilled the blood.

"Can a spear kill it?" Durc asked Mog-ur now.

"Whatever will kill a body should work on driving the spirit out. We do not need to fear a disembodied spirit, it will return to the spirit world whence it came, leaving the body behind. So long as you all have your protective charms in your amulets?"

Every man nodded, reaching up to touch the small square of the blessed hide of Ursus they had each been given to put in their amulets.

"The Evil One may try to inhabit another body once the first is disabled, but those charms will keep you safe from being possessed," Mog-ur confirmed. "I shall come with you on this hunt, you may have need of an extra hunter."

Here he went to his sleeping place and picked up the cloak of Ursus laying on top, enveloping himself in the thick silvery hide. "And I hope that Great Ursus will lend us his power to stop this Evil One."

Seld, Bard, and Bool were left at the mud cave to protect the women and children. The other hunters including Mog-ur found Enna's frantic path through the woods easily, and tracked the trail she had left.

Each man carried two light spears, and in addition each man had a sling or a bola wrapped about his waist. Verg had his sturdy club made from the foreleg of a wild horse. Durc had donned his wolf-fur cloak, since the day was cold. He carried his ivory spear; he never used it for hunting ordinarily. But this hunt was different – the spear had been sanctified in the blood of Ursus during the Bear Ceremony, it was magically powerful. They may have need of it to send this spirit back to where it came from.

Patches of snow lay about on the ground, reminders of the long cold season about to start, and the wind was chill, rattling the branches of trees devoid of leaves. Clouds had appeared in the previously blue sky, the light brightening then dimming as they raced across the face of the sun, the day warming then cooling with the varying cloud cover.

After a surprisingly short walk they found the spot where the Evil Spirit had stopped chasing Enna, almost in sight of the mud cave. Trampled ground, bare footprints in the dirt and stirred up wet leaves let them know where it had been just a brief hour before.

The men set off back along the track left by Enna and the pursuer. It was an easy trail to follow under the bare trees, and the experienced trackers could see the places where Enna had dodged and slid, jinking away from the spirit. Plus the wounded leg of the pursuer was very evident, the drag marks showing clearly on the ground. At the same time, it appeared to have been a close-run chase: Enna, although young and strong and impelled by fear, had been hampered by carrying a newborn baby and her body was still recovering only two days after giving birth. The hunters could see where the spirit had nearly caught her once or twice, as evidenced by the trail left behind.

They reached a small clearing and could see the disturbed earth where Enna must have buried the placenta. None of the men commented on that, studiously averting their eyes from the spot and searching the ground for other signs. It was Rog who found where the spirit must have stood, behind a thick tangle of blackberry, observing Enna before giving chase.

"Here, and here," Rog indicated the imprints of bare human feet in the damp ground behind the bushes.

Durc nodded. The spirit had not been so careful here as it had at their food cache behind the mud cave and footprints had been left; obviously it had not reckoned on Enna disobeying a direct order from it. He cast about, looking for the spot where the back track had diverged, showing the direction the spirit must have gone after giving up the chase.

"There," Durc indicated with his spear. "It seems to have gone to the north-east of here. Along that animal path."

The men continued to follow the path the spirit had left behind it. It seemed to be following the general trail of wildlife wending through the woods. The heavily-treed region by the coast teemed with wildlife, both hunters and prey, and took the path of least resistance through the trees, leaving a rough track.

Many different prints were here: foxes, forest deer, boar, a surpisingly large number of wolf tracks, even a lynx or similar species of medium-sized cat. The spirit seemed to have expended only a little effort, if any, in hiding its own tracks.

"No wonder we haven't seen the spirit before this," Mog-ur commented, "I believe this is away from the usual foraging grounds the women use."

"They don't often come out in this direction," Rog agreed. "My mate Ahma told me there is a sizeable wolf pack out this way. None of the women want to come across a wolf."

The hunters moved slower now, as they approached the coastal fringe the ground became more rocky and hilly. The wildlife trail disappeared into the gravelly ground, but the trackers saw the spot where the spirit had left the trail and headed into the rocks of a cliff by the beach from tracks left carelessly in the sand between the rocks.

Eventually they had to halt. The sloping ground was covered in rocks and the track had dwindled until it completely petered out.

The group stood in frustration; where to go next?

"We're almost at the summit," Durc decided. "Let's at least climb up there and see if we can spot anything from the height."

The slope was not prohibitively steep, but awkward and rocky. But at last they reached the top. And saw, amongst the tumbled rocks overlooking the sea, a mess of animal bones and shells, lying everywhere on the ground. Sticks had been gathered and placed in the correct position for a fire, but it had not been lit and the men could see no sign that it ever had been, since there was no ash or soot on the ground.

The sticks were in front of a small opening in between two boulders. The space could not have been called a cave, it was merely an opening that they could see all the way into. It might have been long enough for a man to lay down and keep himself out of the rain, but no more than that. And indeed, on investigating the niche, they found evidence that it had been used to sleep in.

The rotting hide of a roe deer lay on the floor, mildewy and stinking. It had not been prepared, it had appeared to have simply been skinned off the animal with no attempt to preserve it or even to get all the meat off before using it as a blanket or mat. Some fish lay drying across a rock just at the entrance. Flies had found it and it was wriggling with maggots. A neatly tanned leather bag that Durc recognised as having been pilfered from their mud cave sat on a rock. On investigation it was shown to be empty, only a few shreds of dried meat left in the bottom. The men backed out of the rock niche quickly, the stench was appalling.

"Well," Mog-ur gestured, "It appears that we have found where the spirit has been hiding its stolen human body."

He kneeled and picked up a bone, one of many from small animals lying on the ground. "And here is what it has been eating, at least lately."

They all gathered close to look. The bone had no evidence of having been cooked in any way, but still it had teeth marks on it.

"It couldn't manage to start a fire," Durc gestured. "Perhaps because of the injury to its shoulder that Enna mentioned." He thought about how the clan usually started a fire, with concentrated effort maintaining both pressure and speed on a twirling stick to generate a burning ember. If the body's shoulder was too damaged to provide that, then it had no fire to warm it or to cook food.

"So it has been eating its food raw," Rog agreed. "And it looks as if it has been trying to dry fish."

"But incompletely," Goud added. "It has no memories for it such as the women do, to preserve food or hides."

Verg spat. "Ptah! This place stinks! And it has been living here?"

Durc picked up the noisome hide and threw, flinging it with all his might into the waves thundering on the rocks below. The hide landed with a splash, spun about as the current caught it, then was sucked under and disappeared into the churning froth.

The others, spurred on by their leader's actions, tossed the empty leather bag and maggoty fish into the sea as well, and the sticks were kicked and scattered and broken on the ground amongst the gnawed bones and shells.

"Do you see us, Spirit?" Durc gestured defiantly, his hands held high as he turned slowly on the summit of the hill. "Do you see we are destroying your place? You are not welcome here!"

Mog-ur joined him, standing beside Durc and also gesturing. "Leave this place, leave our clan, Evil One! Return to the spirit world…"

There was a sudden muffled crack. Mog-ur's eyes rolled up into his head. With a little sigh, he collapsed to the ground.

"Mog-ur!" Durc knelt beside him.

Blood was running from a head wound at the back of the man's skull. Durc looked around frantically as the other men gathered around their stricken holy man.

A figure had appeared, standing at the base of the slope. It must have been crouching hidden among the rocks and boulders strewn there. It held a sling in one hand, still swinging slightly from the cast it had just made.

"There's the spirit!" Durc gestured wildly, springing up to give chase. The figure leapt away, disappearing amongst the rocks again.

"Durc!" cried Rog. When Durc stopped and turned back, Rog gestured frantically, "Mog-ur is badly injured! He breathes, but he is not conscious. We must carry him back to the cave."

Durc gave one last despairing look after the fleeing figure, but it had already disappeared.

When he turned back he found that Rog and Gond had picked up Mog-ur. Blood dripped freely from the sling wound at the back of his head, staining his blonde hair.

Durc tapped Oona's shoulder. She had come to report on Mog-ur's condition.

Without preliminaries, Durc said, "Will he live?"

Oona spread her hands, the gesture for uncertainty, then answered, "This Medicine Woman has done all that can be done. It is up to the spirits now. It was a very hard blow to the head, there is a great deal of swelling." Then all attempts at formality left her, concern for her mate evident in every line of her body. "Oh Durc! Zorn is gravely ill. I have done all in my power, but I cannot rouse him! Why did Great Ursus not protect him? Is this Evil Spirit so powerful?"

Durc shook his head. "I just don't know, Oona. I was standing on the crest of the hill, daring it to show itself. Mog-ur stood beside me just as the stone hit. I saw the spirit, but it ran away before I could catch it or try for it with my sling."

As Oona left to return to her patient lying inert at the hearth, Durc thought back. Zorn had been slightly higher up the slope than Durc, putting his head on a level with the taller leader. And his back had been to the spirit, the stone had struck him on the back of the head.

Durc was sure that the spirit had been trying to hit him, rather than the Mog-ur. If the slung stone had hit Durc on the forehead as he thought was intended, he would have been dead. His head bones were just not as thick as the other Clan people. Zorn, by jumping up to gesture as well, may have inadvertently saved Durc's life.

But now Zorn, their Mog-ur, could not be roused from his death-like sleep. And like Oona, Durc wondered: why did Great Ursus allow Zorn to be hit? That led to other thoughts, similarly unproductive. Why had Broud killed Brun, why had he murdered Zoug, why had he had Ayla Cursed with Death in the first of his killings? The malignancy of such actions was breathtaking. And so ultimately pointless.

Durc also remembered, with a chill, that Zorn had predicted this. What had he said, on their journey back from Brac's clan? When they had stopped to camp for the night? Mog-ur had told him then that Ursus was sending him a message. Durc recalled that Mog-ur had put one hand to the back of his head, then said, "A sudden sharp pain, here. And then…something involving you, Durc." And then he had said, "I feel we are being followed."

Well, that had proved to be the case. Durc had never had any reason to doubt that Zorn was a powerfully prescient Mog-ur, and certainly, his predictions seemed to come to pass with an uncanny degree of accuracy. But why would Great Ursus have let another spirit harm his powerful servant?

Durc shook his head in frustration again. Spirits! He didn't understand spirits! And the only man who might have been able to at least suggest some reasons lay gravely injured at his hearth.

Durc gazed about at the activity going on inside the mud cave. All the food in outside caches had been gathered up and brought inside. His clan were now going about the business of storing it in hastily dug holes at the back of the cave, in the storage area farthest from the hearth fires. Stones were being placed on top to deter vermin. It was all dried and in baskets and should last just as well as outside. Durc had ordered it done so that the Spirit could no longer take food from them and prolong its evil existence.

Let it try to continue to eke out its non-life by eating raw rats, Durc thought grimly.

Now he stood up. He had been sitting by the central hearth, the big fire with the space around it commonly used as a gathering place, and clapped his hands three times for attention.

Once all eyes were on him, he began. "This Evil Spirit has now shown itself. It has attacked our Mog-ur, and Enna; and this is not to be borne! From now on, I want nobody to venture outside the mud cave alone. All men must be armed with a sling and throwing spear from this moment forward. If you must go out during the day to relieve your bowels or to pass water, take another person with you, preferably another armed hunter. During the night, we will stay indoors and use the baskets filled with ash for our waste.

'We have ample supplies now to last us the winter," he continued. "And there will be no more thieving from our food caches from this spirit now that they are inside. And most importantly, I think, is that we need to have one armed hunter staying up all night, in case the spirit decides to visit us while we sleep."

There was an uneasy stirring at this, a flashing of hands as this was discussed fearfully; it was outside all Custom and so most people had not even considered the possibility. But Durc could not forget the expression on the spirit's face as he had gazed at it across the distance to the rocks – that hatred, the loathing he sensed had been chilling in its madness. Durc was not about to take any chances.

He had spoken to Seld since they returned, as Oona tended desperately to her mate's injuries. Durc knew that Seld had memories from his former people about those who had transgressed and let evil into their hearts, and Durc had wanted the elder's insights on this problem.

Seld, like Durc, had the knack of being able to think ahead to the consequences of actions, consequences not always covered by ancient Custom, and Durc had wanted his insight to aid him in making decisions on what to do. It had been Seld who had warned Durc that an Evil Spirit could enter into caves of sleepers and kill all of them.

Durc raised his hands for attention after a moment. "Luck is with us in that this Evil Spirit is one we can all see. It is not invisible while it uses the body of the man who was Death Cursed. All hunters will take turns watching each night," he continued. "I intend to take the first watch tonight." He turned to Rog. "Rog will take over from me when I feel myself begin to tire, and then…yes, thank you Bool, you can spell Rog when he needs to sleep." He gazed about his Clan. "Does anybody have anything they wish to add?"

"Bard would speak, Durc."

"Bard may speak."

"I am only a very new acolyte, and I did not see this spirit personally, but I have discussed Evil Spirits previously with Mog-ur. He has told me that any human body they take over always begins to break down. Rog told us that this Spirit seems to be living off whatever raw food it can catch. It seems that the injury to its shoulder prevents it from making fire?"

Durc nodded. "When we found its nest, we destroyed the fur it was using. It has no wraps, no food, no fire, and nobody to help it."

"Then I would think that exposure to the winter will kill it," Bard continued. "For Mog-ur told me that anything that will kill a human will drive a spirit away. We do not have to actively hunt it, we can let the cold do the job for us. I have finished."

Seld spoke up. "Seld would speak, Durc."

"Seld may speak."

"Bard has made a good point. Among my former people, the S'Armunai, legends are told of those who were outcast. They survived for a time when the weather was clement and they could catch small game to sustain their bodies, but once the winter set in with its ferocious winds and snows, those that could not find anywhere to shelter and could not store food or find enough wood to make fire died in the face of Ice Mountain's freezing breath. I have finished."

All the Clan people present appeared cheered at this prospect. It was close enough to the winter season now that a lot of activities would be held inside the cave anyway, so a little longer spent inside did not unduly worry them. The last of the autumn nut harvest would not be collected now, but it seemed a small price to pay for safety.

"Gond would speak, Durc."

"Gond may speak."

"This man remembers, when I was a hunter of Norg's Clan, a lean spring season where game was scarce. An injured hyena kept trying to broach our cave to steal food at night. Do you remember that, Bool?"

At the older man's nod, Gond continued. "We set up a…a barrier, at the entrance to our cave. A little like a wind barrier, but more sturdy. We stretched two mammoth hide tents across the mouth of the cave at night, secured with pegs driven into the ground and wedged into the rocks of the wall. We removed it during the day so that people could come and go. The barrier seemed to confuse the animal, it could not work out how to get through. I wonder if we might do the same with our entrance? It is only small, we do not have to cover as much. We could secure it at night with pegs inside, so that the Spirit, like the hyena, cannot manage to breach it. I have finished."

Durc was impressed. He nodded deliberately. "Gond has made a very valuable contribution. I think that is an excellent idea, we will implement it from tonight."

The Clan settled down for the night. Durc stayed awake. He had eaten a little food at Zorn's hearth, and managed to persuade Oona to eat something as well, but the pair of them were so concerned for their Mog-ur that they had little appetite.

Durc had suggested to Oona that she at least lie down with her child who was fast asleep in the furs, there was no sense in exhausting herself now that she had done all she could.

"I will watch over Zorn," he gestured. "If there is any change in his condition, I will wake you at once."

The Medicine Woman had let herself be persuaded, although Durc could see that she took some time to relax enough to sleep.

After a while, though, the whole clan slept, crackling hearthfires and soft snores filling the Mud Cave with the familiar night time sound of sleepers.

Durc alone stayed awake in his vigil; he found he did not feel at all tired; he was too keyed up from the events of the day. They passed through his mind in a kaleidoscope of images. Far off in the distance, the faint howling of wolves sounded as a pack of them sang to the full moon.

Durc listened to the howls, idly fingering one edge of the warm wolf cloak he wore, and wondered for a moment if the wolf whose hide it belonged to had once been part of that pack singing out there. Perhaps it had howled with the rest of its clan before it had been killed. He did not feel guilt to be wearing the pelt of a grey wolf – there were hunters and there were the hunted, and sometimes the hunters were hunted too. He could just as easily fall prey, in spite of his weapons and fire and clan. Hunting was a way of life.

He wondered too, if the Evil Spirit could hear the wolves; probably, since the area of its destroyed nest was within the wolf pack's territory. Durc wondered for a moment if the body of Broud could feel fear anymore. It was cold outside; Durc would not have liked to camp out with no furs or fire or food or other people. With only hatred to keep him warm, surely the body must stop working soon?

Durc had felt fear when he saw the spirit standing there with a sling in one hand and malevolence in its mad eyes. Fear, yes, that was only sensible. But Durc had also felt anger. By what right did this creature think it could attack Durc's people, Durc's clan? Durc welcomed the anger, it helped to keep the stomach-churning fear of spirits at bay.

The entrance to their mud cave had been blocked with a heavy leather tent, doubled over and staked securely around the edges with throwing spears to hold it tightly closed for the night. All of their preserved food had been removed to the inside and was neatly stored. Filled water bags hung from pegs in the wall. Baskets full of ash waited ready at each hearth. They had ample firewood stacked inside.

But it rankled that a spirit, using the body of one ailing and starving man, could keep them all trapped inside like this. Once daylight came, they would be able to venture outside again, but only with others, and only for essentials like emptying the waste from the ash baskets or refilling the water bags. Brief, essential, and always on guard.

For a moment, Durc wished he had Brac here, and Grev. Brac's solid and considered advice, so like Brun's, would have been a comfort now. And Grev's easy-going nature would have been a relief, as well.

But then Durc shook his head at his own thoughts. For Brac and Grev were the sons of the mate of Broud, he had been the man of their hearth. How much harder it would be for them now, to face what had happened to the former leader of the clan.

He was suddenly very glad that his two friends were not here. And how lucky it was that he was not the son of Broud's mate! How awful if Broud had been the man of the hearth when he was growing up, if he had loved and respected the man he had been.

Well, he certainly wouldn't be sending a runner to Brac's Clan for advice. Not just because it would make it look as if he couldn't handle it himself, but because he would have to send two runners for their own safety and that would leave them less able to defend themselves.

No, he thought, we will wait this out. And let the cold breath of Ice Mountain finish off this Evil Spirit…

Durc was beginning to feel the effects of tiredness when Rog rose from the furs at his hearth and stretched, then padded across to sit beside Durc.

"I will take over now," he gestured quietly. "Durc should get some rest."

Durc nodded; he felt secure in the knowledge that Rog could stand watch as well as he could. In all ways, Rog was proving himself an able Second. Durc got up and added another log to the flicking flames of the hearthfire, then turned to look at Mog-ur.

He was still lying on his side in the furs, his face composed as if in sleep. His chest still moved as he breathed, but apart from that there was no movement from him to show life still dwelled within. A hide bandage and poultice covered the wound on his head. He seemed to have not moved at all since they had carried him in that afternoon.

Durc drew a deep breath. Mog-ur…Zorn, his friend, had to recover! Durc hated to think that such a vital character could just stop working, die and go to the spirit world. It was too bitter a mouthful to swallow.

He crawled into his own bed dug into the earthen floor of the mud cave, covering himself with his furs. The wolves had stopped their song some time ago, and although Durc could not hear it, he knew the wind had become fresh from the occasional gusts that blew in through the air vents built high in the walls of the Mud Cave, causing the hearthfire to flicker.

For a moment, before sleep claimed him, Durc could almost manage to feel some pity for the body of the man who had been Broud, alone and naked, cold and hungry, out there in the dark with the howling of the wolves, knowing that there was nobody but himself to blame for his fate.

When he had let evil creep into his heart and allowed it to flourish.

26

"It is as I feared," Oona signed dejectedly. She and Durc were discussing Zorn's condition over a meal the next morning. "The injury to Zorn's head has caused a deep bruise, swelling and bleeding on the organ within. I fear the...the bruising is building, pressing down. If it doesn't relieve itself soon, it will kill him."

"Isn't there something more you can do for him, Oona?" Durc gestured. "Would it help if I were to send Bard and Rog to Brac's clan and ask Uba to come and assist?"

Oona shook her head. "It would take too long. This situation needs to be resolved as soon as possible. Also, Uba and I spoke many times during our visit to Brac's clan. Our memories of healing magic seem to be both extensive and similar in most respects. We both come from ancient lines of respected Medicine Women."

Durc grunted in acknowledgement; he really did not want to chance two hunters and Uba as well coming across the Evil Spirit. It was just too risky.

"As I lay in my furs this morning," Oona continued, gesturing slowly, "I reviewed all I knew about head injuries. I did not realize just how much I knew from the Medicine Women of my line. I found my way to some ancient memories which suggest one way to relieve the pressure build-up from head injuries…oh, but it is too dangerous, I have never done it before, nor seen it done by the Medicine-Woman-before-me! It is an ancient memory…"

Durc sat forward, intrigued. He had always been fascinated by Uba's healing magic and thought there was nothing unmanly about wanting to know all he could about it.

"What was it?" he urged.

Oona was quiet for so long he began to think she was refraining from speaking.

But then she lifted her hands and gestured slowly, "It involves …cutting a small hole into the bone of the head itself, over the swollen part. That frees the spirits that cause problems and relieves the bruise inside, allowing it to resolve itself." *(Oona is speaking here of the ancient practice known as ' trepanning', practised since Mesolithic times.)

Durc stared. "Cutting into the head?" he asked in disbelief. "Wouldn't that kill him?"

Oona shook her own head. "My memories show that, while some died, the young and the vigorous tended to survive. The bone where the hole was cut even grew back again, given enough time. The organ inside the skull is not touched, just a small amount of bone is removed, and the build-up of bad blood can be cleared."

She lifted her eyes to meet Durc's. "But I am afraid to try. I can see so clearly how it must be done. But there were deaths! Oh Durc, Zorn has been a good mate to me, I have such affection for him! What will I do if he dies?"

Durc took her by the shoulders, but gently. "Oona! It seems to me you have two choices in this. The first is to do nothing and hope it will resolve itself. The second is to try the method the Medicine Women of your line left memories of."

Oona nodded, taking a deep breath. "Zorn will die," she said miserably, "if I do nothing. I have memories of deaths from head swelling, and saw it myself, once before when a member of our Clan suffered a similar injury from a fall. The swelling got worse and could not be relieved even though Irai tried almost everything. She did mention afterwards that she should have tried cutting his skull, but I was a child and didn't understand what she meant back then."

Durc nodded. "I can't tell you what to do, healing magic is of course up to you. But if you try and he dies, at least you know you tried everything you could. If he dies and you did not try, how would you feel?"

"It is a certainty that he will die if that swelling does not come down, and soon," Oona gestured.

Then she seemed to straighten, her mind made up. "I will do it. I must go to Bool and ask if he has any flint, still in the nodule, not yet broken into. It must be freshly-struck to avoid introducing evil spirits into the wound when I cut the bone."

She stood, preparatory to leaving the hearth, and cast another long look at her mate lying in his death-like slumber.

"Zorn must live," she gestured to Durc. "For if he leaves me and goes to the spirit world, how empty my life would seem without him."

Durc sat quietly at Rog's hearth, sipping tea given to him by Rog's mate Ahma. It had recently been revealed to the clan that Ahma, too, was now pregnant. Durc's clan was growing, nearly all the women had signs of pregnancy. Usually this fact lifted Durc's heart with gladness, but today was too sombre a day to dwell upon it. With their Mog-ur gravely ill and the Evil Spirit's nearness, a dark shadow seemed to have been cast over the day, dimming the bright cloudless sky and making the mild autumn weather and brisk breeze feel chill and dank.

Bool had collected a store of chalky nodules of flint over the summer, preparatory to making new blades and tools during the winter for the clan members. Oona selected one of these and carried it back to her hearth.

After carefully purifying her hands of any lingering evil spirits by washing them and her arms well in a bowl of saponin-rich warm water and rinsing them thoroughly, she had taken the nodule and quickly shaped it as she would have done when making a knife to cut hide, and struck some wickedly sharp flakes from the prepared core, retouching them quickly along one side so that they would not cut her hand when she held them, then laying them carefully into a clean wooden bowl in preparation.

Emai and Evya were at the hearth, assisting her. Emai was strong, with a calm temperament, unlikely to panic or be overcome by nervousness or timidity, and Evya was older and could be depended upon to do whatever Oona told her to do. The two women had imitated Oona in purifying their hands and their arms thoroughly as well. Emai's role was to hold Mog-ur's head steady while Oona cut. Evya would help Emai to hold the wounded man down should he regain consciousness suddenly and attempt to move or get away from the pain.

From his place at Rog's hearth, Durc could see some of what went on, and Oona was so focused on what she was doing that she did not notice Durc's visual intrusion. It was hard to look away, there was a horrible fascination at the thought of cutting into somebody's head. Everybody in the clan knew that their Medicine Woman was about to attempt something radical and they were all unusually quiet at their various hearths as they tried not to glance too obviously at the Mog-ur's hearth. The air inside the mud cave felt stifling and electric with expectation. Even the children were quieter, playing together in the store area at the back of the mud cave, their elder's sombreness muting their normal exuberance.

Emai and Evya gently turned Zorn so that he was lying on his stomach, his head to one side. With Emai steadying his head, Oona peeled and discarded the poultice with which she had attempted to reduce the swelling. She had cut the hair short over the wounded area the day before when applying the poultice; now she used one of her new flint blades to shave the place on Zorn's head. Once it was bare, she used a cleaned sea sponge to soak the area with a solution she had prepared of warm water that had the leaves and cut stems of a cistus ladanifer shrub steeped in it. The resulting liquid was strongly antibacterial and known to repel any bad spirits that could cause a wound to fester.

Once Zorn's hair and scalp were completely soaked in the solution, Oona dropped the blade into a separate bowl and made a plea to her totem, spirit of Marmot, to aid in her magic. Then she picked up an unused flint shard and paused for a moment, one hand on her mate's skull.

The whole clan was watching with bated breath as Oona made the first incision into the man's scalp. Zorn's body did not move, totally unresponsive to outside stimuli.

With quick sure movements, guided by her ancestor's memories of similar operations, Oona sliced and peeled away a small square section of skin at the site. Leaving the portion of scalp attached along one side, she folded it back to keep it out of the way. She dropped the bloodied scalp-cutting knife into another bowl that sat on the floor well away from the fresh new blades and reached for the cistus-soaked sponge to wipe away the blood from both her hands and Zorn's head, preparatory to cutting into the bone itself.

Durc swallowed and looked away at this point. The area was bleeding freely, but this was not what caused him to glance away so hurriedly. It was the sight of Zorn's exposed skull bone that was so uncomfortable. It was one thing to take the hide off an animal that had been hunted, but to see it done on a living person, a friend, was difficult for him to watch impassively.

Durc wondered at the level of control Oona had over her emotions as she performed the delicate operation on her mate; he wondered if he could have put his emotions to the side as Oona had done, and do whatever was necessary to save Zorn's life.

Durc wished that Grev were here, or Goov, a Mog-ur who could call upon Great Ursus for aid. Bard had not yet had enough training to know what to do. However, Durc knew his own Wolf totem was a powerful ally, from the time he had dispatched Ursus at the Bear Ceremony he had decided that his spirit had been testing him and he was glad that he had not been found wanting. He had seen Goov invoke the aid of spirits often enough, and decided to ask his powerful totem for help in this case.

Closing his eyes, he envisaged his Wolf totem, as he had seen him the day of the Bear Ceremony, wounded after coming to his aid to protect him from Ursus. In his mind's eye, the wolf was no longer injured, but standing protectively close to him, one ear slightly lopsided after his battle with Ursus.

Once he had the beautiful grey wolf securely in his mind, Durc began to make the flowing motions of the most ancient, sacred, silent language of the Clan, the one known by all the clans, used to address the world of the spirits.

"Great Protector Grey Wolf, this man is grateful that you chose him and hopes he will always be worthy of your choice in him. You helped this man to defeat Great Ursus in the Bear Ceremony, and this man would ask for your assistance once more. This man knows not the ways of the spirit world or why our Mog-ur was injured. This man would ask the assistance of the spirit of the Grey Wolf, and any other spirits the Great Totem would choose, to aid our Medicine Woman, Oona, to heal Zorn, if he wishes to do it.

'Great Protector Grey Wolf, Zorn kept this clan alive and together, even after the sickness that took so many of their members. They had all but given up, fearing that their spirits had deserted them. Great Grey Wolf, this man Zorn is a good man, a useful and a stoic man. And he is my friend. He is worthy of your aid, if the Great Grey Wolf would choose to help him. Please bring your power to bear to exclude the evil spirits that would attack him now, help to keep him safe, so that he may return to us here in this clan."

Durc opened his eyes, to find that, despite the custom against averting one's eyes from another's hearth, nearly all of the eyes of the clan adults were fixed on him, watching his impassioned plea. Only Oona and her helpers had not stopped what they were doing to watch.

He felt a slow flush of embarrassment begin when he saw them all staring; he was after all no Mog-ur! But then, starting with Bard, then Rog and then one by one all of them, men and women alike, they all began to touch their amulets in reverence and every single one began to make their own pleas to their protective totem spirits to aid their Mog-ur, their gestures silent and eloquent, giving the only aid they could to their beloved clan member, their holy man.

Durc watched, his own self-consciousness gone as he watched the extraordinary performance of gestures, all following roughly his own plea for aid. Bard was calling on Great Ursus for help as well as appealing to his own Hawk Spirit. The mud cave was a sea of gesturing hands and elegant body movements as each person addressed their own totemic spirits, adding their silent pleas to that of their leader. Even the children had come to watch, stopping their play and touching their amulets as they watched the graceful ballet, swaying a little as the rhythm swept them up in its solemn, silent grandeur.

And one by one, as each person finished, an odd sense of relief took over from the sombreness of the day. Durc's clan had done all that they could do, it was now up to the magic of their Medicine Woman and the aid of the spirits, and though it had always been so, still the act of asking left them feeling a little lighter, a little less afraid. It made them feel a little more in control of their own group destiny.

The patient scraping seemed to have been going on for an eternity.

Durc realized that Oona was carefully gauging her cuts into the bone so as to not cut the organ beneath, which could have been fatal. So she scraped slowly and carefully, changing flint blades often, dropping them into the discard bowl after only a few cuts and reaching for a fresh blade, now and then putting her hand on the big vein at Zorn's neck to check his pulse.

Evya was constantly travelling from the hearth to the open door of the mud cave, emptying the blood-stained water of the cistus solution onto the ground outside and replacing it with fresh solution from a water-bag, and between times handing Oona the soaked sea sponge to wipe away the fresh blood seeping from the cuts. Several times one or other of the women, accompanied by an armed hunter, would go to the creek with waterbags to fetch fresh water, and a fire was kept going at the Mog-ur's hearth to boil the water and steep Cistus ladanifer branches and leaves.

Finally, Oona stopped her patient scraping, dropping the flint into the discards and washing her hands again in more of the cooled cistus solution. The tension in her body left no doubt to the watchers that she had broken through the last resistance from the bone.

Her eyes met Emai and Evya's. With a hand that visibly shook, she gestured, "Hold him steady now; he may move."

She waited until both women were in position, then taking another flint blade, she held it sideways and gently prised the bone from the hole she had cut.

Thick black sludgy blood immediately welled out, and Durc looked away, swallowing rapidly, wishing he had not eaten any food that morning, taking quick shallow breaths.

When he could finally steel himself to look again, though, he saw that Oona was carefully cleaning the wound with the sponge, the bleeding having slowed to a seep. To Durc's intense relief he realized that he was not seeing the organ in Zorn's head itself; it was covered with a skin that was under the bone, Oona having deliberately left the dura* intact as protection. (* Dura - the tough outermost membrane enveloping the brain and spinal cord.)

After a few moments of the gentlest of touches cleaning out the last of the bad blood from the bruise under the bone, she carefully pulled the small square of skin she had cut previously over the hole left in Zorn's head. To hold the cut skin in place, she quickly sutured the edges with sharp thorns from the caparus spinosa bushes of the area, then tied a soft and absorbent bandage over the whole, using sinew to knot it. The small diamond-shaped piece of skull bone that had been removed from Zorn's head was sitting, clean of blood, in the bowl with the used and discarded flints.

Turning finally to look at the waiting clan, she announced shakily, "I have now done all that I can. The bad blood and evil spirits have been excised; it is now up to our protective spirits to help Mog-ur to recover."

Durc stood and went to the hearth. He was surprised to see how advanced the day was, the late afternoon sun was setting. He side-stepped Evya and Emai who were fussing about clearing away discarded blades and bloodied bowls and sat beside Oona and Zorn.

"This man is proud to have you as our clan's Medicine Woman," he gestured.

Oona bowed her head, but Durc could see she was grateful for his acknowledgement. When she looked back up at him, Durc continued, "What do we do now?"

"We must wait," Oona answered. "My memories show that, so long as the skin beneath the bone does not blacken and wither, the chances of survival are good. And if I was successful and the swelling is now relieved, he can begin to heal. But I must keep that wound from festering; that is the main concern now. If … " she stopped herself with an effort, then began again, "when … he regains consciousness, he must not move too much, or disturb that bandage."

Durc nodded his acknowledgement. "You did not replace the bone you cut away?" he asked.

Oona shook her head. "My memories show that the cut needs to be left as open as possible so that the swelling has room to go…up and out, rather than down. That is what is damaging to the organ below. But it still needs to be kept covered with skin and a bandage to keep evil spirits from getting in. The thorns help to hold the skin closed as it heals together. It is an old technique known to the Medicine Women of my line."

Durc nodded again, although it was difficult to understand. Possibly only another Medicine Woman would really grasp the concept. He had wanted to ask more, but he could see that Oona looked drained by the tension of the operation. Now that it was over she was almost swaying with exhaustion where she sat.

"I think you should rest now," Durc advised, "and perhaps eat?"

Oona bowed her head. "I am not at all hungry. But I will rest," she gestured, and lay down on the bed beside her mate, pulling the hide blanket up over both of them.

Durc went to his customary spot. "I will watch over you both, and keep you safe," he gestured before her eyes closed.

Durc woke to the first faint light of dawn. He was lying in his bed at Mog-ur's hearth and recalled that Rog had relieved him of his watch a few hours after full dark. He ran the roster through his head: Bool would have relieved Rog after three or four hours, then Goud would have taken his turn. That meant that it was Bard's turn now. He turned onto his side to glance at the next hearth and saw that Bard was sitting by the fire of his own hearth, a light spear laying at his feet in readiness.

When he saw Durc's movement Bard met his eyes and gave a smile. "It has been quiet all night," he signed.

Durc nodded grateful acknowledgement and turned back over, preparing to sleep some more. And saw that Zorn's blue eyes were open...

For a nightmarish instant, Durc thought Zorn was dead, until the man blinked and he realized that the Mog-ur was watching him with awareness on his face.

Durc sat up. "Don't try to move your head," he gestured quickly. "You have a…healing wound there."

Keeping his head still, Zorn lifted one arm slightly off the ground and in abbreviated gestures asked, "What happened?"

Durc squatted down on his haunches beside his friend. "What do you remember last?"

"We …were chasing the Evil Spirit. Destroyed its nest. And then…" Zorn's eyes widened.

"My head hurts. Is that the wound Great Ursus was trying to warn me of?"

Durc nodded, impressed that Zorn could remember that much.

Zorn continued dreamily, "I remember that I was here, in the Mud Cave, and I looked down. I could see myself, lying in my bed. Oona was doing … something to my head. There was much blood …"

Durc nodded again. Zorn had been aware of what was happening, then, a sign that his spirit had started to come free of his body, which brought home to Durc just how close to death the man must have been.

"Do you want me to wake Oona, to give you some medicine for the pain?" Durc asked.

"No," Zorn answered. "But I am tired. I think I will sleep again now…"

Zorn's eyes closed as sleep claimed him, but he was no longer pallid, his lips and cheeks had some colour to them, and Durc realized he was having the restorative sleep that his body needed to heal.

Quietly, Durc stirred up the hearth fire, adding some sticks to it and fetching his cup and some dried mint leaves from the shelf nearby to make tea. Glancing across at Bard again, he saw that the acolyte had not been aware of the quick conversation, since Durc's back had been to him and blocked sight of Zorn's single hand gestures in the dim light.

But Durc wanted to share his joy at seeing this evidence of Zorn's return to consciousness and didn't want to disturb Oona. She had earned her rest. He took a second spare cup and once the water had boiled, prepared tea and took both cups to the central hearth. Because Enna was still in isolation after the birth, Durc could not enter the hearth. Instead, he beckoned for Bard to join him.

He handed the second cup of tea to Bard as the young man sat down and said, "I have some good news for you, Acolyte Bard…"

27

Zorn's recovery continued well. Oona was pleased to see that the swelling had abated and the skin where she had cut was pink with a good supply of blood. She had high hopes that it would heal without serious infection.

Zorn had a slight fever but by the next afternoon, Oona allowed him to sit up in his bed, so long as he did not try to stand. She gave him a waterbag so that he could relieve his bladder while sitting when he needed and refused to leave his side for more than a few moments at a time, only venturing outside to relieve her own bladder with Rog standing watchful guard with spear and sling at the ready for any suspicious movement in the trees.

The atmosphere inside the mud cave was one of quiet relief that their holy man appeared to be getting better. Seld took the children to the back of the cave and enacted some stories to keep them occupied and quiet, to allow Mog-ur some peace while he recovered, and the adults returned to their more sedentary winter tasks.

By the next morning the skin covering the wound was noticeably redder around the edges and Mog-ur's mild fever had become worse. Oona gave him pain-dulling medication and again washed the area of the wound with cistus solution and re-bandaged it carefully.

As Mog-ur once more fell asleep, she walked to the central hearth where Durc and some of the other men had gathered, and dropped gracefully to her knees in front of Durc in a request to speak.

When Durc tapped her shoulder, she looked up and signed, "Mog-ur has some slight infection to the skin of his head, where this Medicine Woman cut it. I do not think it extends below the skin, but I will need to keep it well washed. However, I fear that my supply of the magic plants I steep in water to keep the evil spirits at bay are used up. I need to go and gather more and would request a hunter accompany me."

"How far away are these plants?" Durc asked.

Oona held one hand up, palm facing the wall, then inclined it a little way to indicate a short walk, no more than five minutes.

"There are several small shrubs I need growing in the area I am thinking of," she signed. "I would not ask, but they are absolutely necessary to stop infection. I have other remedies, but none work as well, and many of my alternatives were destroyed by the Evil Spirit when it got into our mud cave. I have not been able to replace them this late in the season."

Durc nodded. "I will accompany you," he decided.

"Should I go as well?" Rog asked.

Durc considered, then shook his head. The trees had lost most of their leaves now, so that visibility was good, and as it was only a few minutes walk it was hardly worth both of them accompanying Oona.

He stood and went to get his ivory-tipped spear, and donned his wolf fur cloak from the bed. Oona put on a warm shawl as well, made of several marmot hides tanned and knotted together with sinew, collected a basket to hold the leaves she would pick, and added to the basket a sharp flint knife to cut tough stems.

"Evya, would you mind watching Selda while I'm gone?" she gestured. "We will not be very long. But I don't want to take her out into the cold."

Evya nodded and took the child from her mother.

Together, Durc and Oona exited the mud cave.

"Oh, these are no good!"

They had reached the spot where the cistus plants grew only to find that wild goats or sheep had also found the aromatic plants over the summer months. Nearly all of the evergreen leaves had been eaten, and quite a few of the softer twigs, as well. A brisk wind shook the skeletal and denuded branches that were left.

Oona turned to Durc. "I know of a few other such plants, but they grow deeper in the woods. They are in wolf territory, so I rarely venture there."

"Are you sure these plants are absolutely essential to Mog-ur's health, Oona?" The idea of going into wolf-infested territory, nearer to the coastal cliffs where the Evil Spirit was lurking, did not appeal to Durc at all.

Oona nodded definitely. "Yes, quite sure, Durc. Should we go back and fetch Rog to accompany us?"

Durc looked about. All seemed to be quiet; he felt a little foolish to feel so apprehensive. The day was gloomy and cold – the Evil Spirit would probably be sticking close to its ruined nest, trying to stay warm and dry in the shelter of the tumbled rocks of the cliff.

The heavy clouds overhead were threatening an icy rain, and the breeze was chill. Now and then freezing droplets fell, warning of heavier showers soon. He did not want to get caught outside when the sky opened. So he shook his head.

"Let's just hurry there and get back home before it starts to rain," he decided.

Oona nodded. "This way," she gestured.

The cistus ladanifer bushes deeper in the woods were healthy and thick with evergreen leaves.

Oona made a pleased sound and bent to the task of detaching whole small branches with leaves intact from the main stems, putting them into her basket.

But Durc was uneasy – it had taken longer than he liked to walk to this spot among the trees and there were wolf tracks and scat all over the area. Probably that was why the magic plants had been spared the depradation of the other plants, he thought to himself. No goat or sheep with any intelligence would venture here, so far into wolf territory.

He turned with his spear in his hand, scanning for any sign of danger. The area was heavily wooded and a huge tree had been blown over in some wind-storm a few years ago, leaving enough space and light for the cistus bushes to flourish. The tree trunk was stretched on the ground, its tangle of roots out of the ground at one end and moss beginning to cover the whole. Durc leaned against the massive downed trunk while he waited for Oona to finish collecting.

The trees round about here were thicker than he liked and the area was rocky with many boulders. There was an odd scent hanging in the air; Durc opened his mouth to allow taste buds to help identify it. The rangy scent of wolf rolled over his tongue. There had been wolves here not long ago.

Durc glanced at Oona's basket; it was three quarters full now and surely must hold enough for the needs of the whole clan.

"Oona!" Durc said. This quiet place was unnerving him; he gestured to the woman that they were leaving now that her basket was almost full.

She jumped up, picked up her basket and followed Durc as he set off back into the woods, leaving the clearing and cistus bushes behind. Durc took the lead, his spear in his hand at the ready, with Oona padding along behind him, her feet crunching in the fallen leaves.

But they had only been walking for a few minutes when Durc realized that she had stopped; her feet no longer sounded behind him. He turned and saw her frozen to the spot, her eyes wide, staring off to one side into the trees.

"Oona?" Durc questioned, then he, too, stopped, his eyes widening in horror.

A man was standing quietly amongst the trees and rocks, watching them. He was naked, wearing only a rough belt of rawhide around his waist and his amulet at his neck, a sling held ready in one hand, watching them with a supremely malevolent gaze.

Durc moved quickly to stand in front of Oona, lifting his spear warningly at the figure.

Broud was holding his sling with a stone in it, ready to cast. With one hand, he gestured, "Durc! Is that woman your mate? I shall enjoy killing her, in that case."

Durc put one hand behind his back so that only Oona could see it and signed one handed to her, "Run to the cave. Fetch the other hunters! Go!"

As Oona dropped her basket and began to sprint away, Broud moved to stop her, and Durc saw that the former leader now had a stumbling gait, along with the horrible suppurating injury to his shoulder from Mog-ur's spear.

Durc moved fast, intercepting him, lifting his own spear. "Stop, Broud!"

The man gazed at Durc. "So you can see me, deformed whelp? I told Mog-ur I wasn't dead. I will be leader again, and anyone who tries to stand in my way will regret it."

Durc shook his head. "Dead or not, your body can't last much longer. I can see your shoulder is too mangled to let you make fire. You have no shelter, no warmth, no people. Go away, leave my clan alone!"

Broud snarled and suddenly a stone came whizzing through the air, cast from his sling. Durc dodged and flung his light spear an instant later. But the woods were too thick for there to be much clearance between the trees; the stone missed and the spear likewise, glancing off a branch to fall harmlessly just short of Broud.

Durc grabbed for his own sling tucked securely into his belt, but before he could get it out, the enraged evil spirit was upon him, knocking the more slender man to the ground. Durc tried to get to his feet, but a hard kick caught him in the ribs and he fell again. Broud was the shorter of the two, but he was stockier and although ill and malnourished, still had more than enough muscle and malice to injure the lighter, younger man.

Another punch to the face and Durc felt his nose break, blood beginning to stream from it. He felt stunned, but managed to roll before the next maddened kick, and staggered to his feet.

Another blow to the back of his head disoriented him, but still he took to his heels, running as fast as he could go.

Dazed from the blows, he didn't know in which direction he was running. His only thought was to keep ahead of the maddened spirit until the other hunters arrived to help. Here his long legs were an advantage; as his head began to clear he jumped and dodged and was soon far enough ahead to slow his headlong flight a little.

He was breathing hard, panting through his mouth since his nose was broken. The first gush of blood had slowed and stopped now, it did not drip any longer. He could still hear the spirit, stumbling and staggering through the woods after him, but now Durc realized he was at the cistus clearing again. In an attempt to leave no footprints to show his path, he leapt onto a bare rock, and another, then to the top of the downed tree trunk.

He looked down and saw a possible hiding place where he could catch his breath and unfurl his sling, for on the side of the tree there was a hollow space, a hole under the roots of the tree itself. Gratefully, he wriggled into it feet first, pulling up a handful of the long dried grass after him to disguise both the hole and his passage into it.

The spirit emerged from the trees slowly. Durc could see him, through the concealing grass of his hideout. He appeared more wary now, and Durc could see why he had fallen so far behind: for he now held the light spear, Durc's spear! in one grimy hand. He now had two weapons, with the sling tucked into the rawhide belt. Durc could make out the lumpy belt also had stones for the sling tucked into it.

The spirit appeared to be searching the ground, and with a sick feeling in his stomach Durc could see him attempting to track the path he had left. He got to the place where Durc had leapt onto a rock and searched all around, but it was obvious he couldn't see where his prey's footprints had disappeared to from there. Durc tried to keep his breathing as quiet as possible so as not to alert him to his hiding place; his own pulse thundered in his ears and seemed to fill the world.

Slowly, the spirit straightened. Durc could see the frustrated malice on his face. "Durc!" He yelled the name aloud, then again, making the woods ring with the angry spoken word. Then he continued, signing awkwardly with one hand slow and clumsy from his injury, hands held high. "Where are you hiding, deformed Other?" Then, "Durc!" he bellowed again.

He went to the other side of the clearing and began searching behind the trees and bushes there, looking for any track left on the ground.

Durc hoped the spirit animating Broud would continue into the heavily-screening trees and bushes that lined the clearing, so that he could slip from his hiding place and use his faster speed to get back to the clan. Durc had his breath back now and all he needed was a few seconds headstart; with that he was confident that he would be able to outrun the injured spirit.

He shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort from the blows he had taken...and froze. There was something here in this hiding place in the ground with him! He could feel snuffling around his feet, hear the low vibration of a growl…

He began to back out, head first, slowly and carefully, keeping one eye on the spirit, who was now in the fringe of trees on the far side of the clearing.

Suddenly, he heard the spirit give a triumphant shout:"Aha!"

Durc stopped moving, he couldn't see how he'd been spotted, since the spirit still had its back to him. Then he saw it signing at something among the trees.

"I can see you, Durc! Come out from those bushes, you cowardly Other!"

Bushes? Durc slid the final few inches from the hole, still crouching, and as he did so, saw what had been down in the hole with him. A silvery grey she-wolf dashed past him, with four half-grown pups following her. Giving a summoning yip, she ran from the formerly secure den, leading her pups away from the threatening area where the wolf family had been sleeping.

A commotion snapped Durc's attention back to the spirit. Large grey shapes had detached themselves from the bushes and trees that the spirit had been staring into. Durc heard the spirit gasp before the snarling wolves attacked this noisy, threatening creature in their territory, too near their den and young.

The first wolf fell to a jabbed spear, but the spirit was surrounded on all sides and the rest of the wolves fell on him. The spirit tried to fight them off, swinging the spear, and a yelp showed that one of the blows had scored a hit as the stricken wolf dropped to the ground. But there were too many! The spirit that had been a man began to scream as wolves converged on him, pulling him to the ground.

Durc stayed crouched on the ground, his eyes on the horrible scene. A warning growl from behind snapped him back to his own personal danger.

Still crouching he turned his head slowly. The Alpha male of the wolf pack stood just behind him, a massively muscled, sleek carnivore that had come to the den to make sure his pups and mate were safe. He had his head down as he sniffed the air, trying to work out if this weird creature was friend or foe.

Durc crouched even lower – he had never been this close to a living wolf before, he couldn't stand, he was too terrified even to make a sound.

It was Durc's cloak of wolf fur and submissive position on the ground that saved his life - the wolf smelled a familiar scent, faint but to the nose of the animal as obvious as a signature.

Wolves have good vision, but the sensitivity of their sense of smell is equalled by few other animals, and is their main sense. This animal on the ground before him had a scent the alpha recognized as one of his pack, a subordinate who had disappeared some time earlier. But it was overlaid with another scent, one picked up just a few moments ago when Durc had sheltered in the den – the scent of the alpha female and her pups. Wolf society allowed for a subordinate wolf, male or female, to help care for pups, particularly one who was closely related; this odd creature had been in the den and so must have been helping the alpha female protecting the pups from danger.

It confused the male, the appearance and scent were at odds with its experience of the world, but the thing was wolfish enough, especially since it was in the submissive position of a lower-ranked male, that made the alpha disinclined to attack.

Another weak scream from the human, now on the ground overwhelmed by the wolf pack, distracted the alpha male. He could scent that his mate and pups had gone to safety, the smell of their flight hung in the air. He abruptly decided that the subordinate wolf on the ground was not a danger, and ignoring Durc, the wolf went to join in the attack on the far more dangerous creature that had burst in upon their territory, with his belligerent behaviour.

Durc slowly backed away on all fours, unable to believe that he was still alive. The awful shrieking had stopped now and the wolves were playing with their downed prey. He saw one wolf with a detached human forearm dangling from its mouth. Another two had ripped open the belly and were nose deep in the intestines. Two more were squabbling over something bloody and unrecognisable, tugging it between them.

Durc kept crabbing away from the horrible scene, trying not to be sick. Only when he was in the cover of the trees themselves did he get to his feet and run as he had never run before.

He stopped once he was well into the cover of the forest and could no longer hear the horrible noises of the wolf pack.

Leaning up against a tree trunk, his stomach heaved as he threw up, again and again. Then, he thought he heard a twig crack and started in terror, gazing wildly back the way he had come. Although he couldn't see anything following, he ran again, spurred on by fear, heading for the safety of the mud cave and his clan.

Durc saw the wolf, huge and threatening, snarling at him. It was holding a human arm with a sling. The sling moved of its own volition; the stone shot out and hit him just as the snarling wolf attacked…

He gave a reflexive jump and opened his eyes to the security of the sturdy wall of the mud cave. He heard the crackling of the hearth fire, smelled wood smoke and felt reassured. Closing his eyes again as his panicked breathing slowed, he realized he had been dreaming, as he had been off and on for most of the night.

He gathered his thoughts slowly, one by one, they were a little sluggish from the effects of the pain-killing and calming draught Oona had made him drink once he got back to the cave. She had set the bone in his nose, he remembered now, which was why he felt stuffy. He was breathing through his mouth due to the nasal swelling.

Deliberately he made himself remember the horrible events of the day before. Goov had told him once that, when a life-threatening or horrible crisis was over, you should go through it all again in your mind, step by step, to ensure that nothing was repressed. Memories that were too dreadful to think about were an invitation to evil spirits, and needed to be looked at calmly once the danger was past to ensure they were exorcised. Talking to another person about it could be helpful, as well.

Durc remembered the overwhelming relief he had felt when the armed hunters of his clan came bursting through the trees led by Oona. They had surrounded him, and for the first time since the spirit had begun to chase him, he felt safe. They sat him on a rock and although he was shaking badly, he was able to recount to them what had happened.

Rog and three of the others had gone to investigate, to make sure the spirit was truly gone, while Bard and Oona had returned to the cave with him.

He remembered resisting the effects of the sedating tea Oona had given him while setting the bone in his nose, until after Rog and the other hunters had returned. Rog had recovered the basket of cistus leaves that Oona had dropped; he handed it to her gravely and Oona had immediately taken it to start preparing the magic plants in a wash. Rog had then told Durc that the wolf pack had left the area and that the body formerly inhabited by the Evil Spirit was no longer viable. Durc had not been surprised at that news; the body had been in several pieces the last time he had viewed it. Evil Spirit or not, it was now well and truly dead.

Now he swallowed, feeling his pulse speed up with the horror he had felt seeing Broud's fate. Although he had detested the man, although he would have destroyed the body with sling or spear if forced to do so to protect himself and his clan, it was still horrible.

He was having trouble breathing and sat up cautiously, wincing a little as the various bruises left by his fight with Broud's body made themselves known at the movement.

The rest of the clan were stirring now, starting to wake as the night receded and dawn light began to brighten the inside of the mud cave; and Durc saw to his relief that Mog-ur, in the bed beside his at the hearth, was also awake, sitting up and staring at the fire.

Mog-ur turned at Durc's movement. "Were you having a bad dream, my friend? I woke to see you tossing a little; I would have woken you, but you settled down by yourself."

Durc nodded. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Mog-ur made a wry face, putting his hand to the back of his head. "The wound is much better; after you went to sleep yesterday, Oona examined it and said it is mending well. And though I would admit it to none but you and her, it is painful! Also itchy," he added reflectively, forcing the hand that was not signing away from his head. "I have to remember not to scratch. Oona was very stern with me about that."

Durc smiled; Oona was in most ways an exemplary young Clan matron, but like all Medicine Women of the Clan she was absolutely fearless in letting her patients know what she would

and would not tolerate when they were under her care. The fact that she was telling Zorn what to do was a good sign that her mate was really on the mend.

"Mog-ur, is the Evil Spirit truly gone now?" Durc asked. He put one hand up to touch his amulet reflexively. "I know the body that contained it is dead. But…are we safe from it now? I mean, I don't know when the Evil Spirit took over Broud's body. How do we know it won't return? Maybe enter into one of us?"

Mog-ur thought for a moment. "I believe we are safe now," he gestured. "Evil must be invited in. If a person follows Custom and acts in the best interests of their clan as a whole, then Evil is denied. It is only when one has an inflated sense of their own self-worth, or is prideful without reason, or embittered by the success of others, that Evil can gain a foothold. Bad and vain thoughts should be acknowledged so that they can be examined and cast aside if they are not helpful. They should not be fostered. I think that is what occurred in the case of the former leader of Brac's clan. A little pride, in yourself and your clan, is a good thing. But too much, aimed too personally? That can be dangerous. Maybe that is why self-control is sometimes so difficult to master. The path is hard, and the body would prefer to take the easier way. But as self-control is gained, it becomes worth it."

"I thought I was going to die yesterday," Durc admitted. "The leader of the wolf clan stood over me, snarling. I was sure he would attack. But he left me and went to help his clan with Broud."

Mog-ur nodded. "Your totem is the Grey Wolf," Mog-ur reminded him. "Perhaps it was the Grey Wolf Spirit inhabiting the body of the wolf, wanting to ensure you did not interfere in the fight to drive the Evil Spirit back to the Spirit world. You have to remember that the spirit of Broud is long gone, but our protector spirits would fight the presence of Evil they could recognize in his body. It was the way your totem had of protecting you."

Durc's eyes widened. "I hadn't thought of that!" It suddenly made a lot of sense; he had wondered why the wolf had decided to spare him. "Mog-ur," Durc continued, "this man is grateful for your wise counsel, explaining the actions of the spirits to me."

Zorn made a self-deprecating gesture. "I am simply a man trying to understand the messages from the spirit world. And speaking of the spirit world," he added as an afterthought, "I was very touched when Bard told me how you appealed to your totem spirit for my health! He said that the clan was in a dark place after my injury, but that you did exactly the right thing to give them hope, and they all joined in. Perhaps that is why humans can recognise the spirit world: it lets us feel we have some control over our lives when we can communicate with the spirits and ask for help, especially when we feel too overwhelmed to do any more for ourselves. Bard said that all the clan were grateful to follow your lead. Are you sure you don't wish to become an acolyte?"

Durc shook his head with a rueful grin. "It would be against all Custom, and this leader is trying very hard not to get an inflated sense of his own self-worth!" He thought for a moment. "Brac must be told of this, of course," he gestured. "I think I will send Rog today, that would show proper respect."

"If I might suggest, send my acoloyte with him," Mog-ur suggested. "I would go myself, for news of this importance, but I'm afraid it is still beyond me to get as far as the mud cave entrance! For the time being, at least. But the second-in-command along with Mog-ur's acolyte should satisfy Custom."

Durc fought to keep his expression neutral. Oh, but it was good to be here, talking about clan business again with his friend! The long shadow cast by the Evil Spirit had begun to lift, and Durc could feel his mood improving the more he spoke to Zorn.

"You will be able to walk again?" Durc questioned suddenly, the possibility of long-term damage having been raised by Zorn's comment.

"Oona believes so," Mog-ur answered. "After you went to sleep yesterday afternoon, she checked my reflexes, asking me to wriggle my toes, move my feet, looking into my eyes!" Now he rolled his eyes expressively. "She says that the skin around the wound has begun healing and knitting together, and that everything else seems unaffected." He let a sense of awe colour his expressions. "I remember Irai, the Medicine Woman before Oona. She was highly skilled. I am indeed fortunate that her daughter shares her talent. I fear I was ready to leave for the spirit world. But Oona's magic pulled me back from the brink."

28

It was a frosty morning when Enna's baby son was named and officially accepted into Durc's clan. As was the custom of the northern clans, the responsibility for naming the child fell to the man of his hearth who would raise and train him. Bard had a long discussion with Seld and on the day of the naming, the clan gathered outside the mud cave for the ceremony.

Mog-ur leaned on his acolyte's shoulder as he walked slowly to a comfortable log seated by a cheery blaze in the fire-pit. His legs were still weak and standing for any length of time was something of a trial, so for this one ceremony Mog-ur would sit.

When all were settled, Mog-ur made the silent gestures that called the spirits to attend.

At his beckoning gesture, Enna crossed to Mog-ur, then folded her knees to sit gracefully in front of him, uncovered the wrap around her baby and, eyes fixed properly on the ground, carefully held the infant up.

Dipping into a bowl of red ochre held by Bard, kneeling beside him, Mog-ur drew a stripe from the point where the baby's brow ridges joined to the tip of his tiny nose with the paste. The baby squirmed in the cold air and let out a wail, wanting to return to the warmth of his mother's breast.

"Which hunter will take responsibility for raising and teaching this infant?" Mog-ur asked the northern Clan question somberly.

Taking a deep breath, Bard signed, "This man, Bardelmahn, hunter of Durc's clan and Acolyte of Mog-ur, also known as Bard, takes responsibility for this infant."

"What does Bard name this infant?"

"I name the infant Rarzenahn, hereafter also known to the clan as Rarz," Bard answered, enunciating the spoken name slowly and carefully.

The clan filed past the newest member of their group, speaking the unfamiliar name with varying degrees of accuracy, from Seld's proudly-declared, "Rarzenahn!" to the youngest child's lisped, "Warrrz."

Enna covered her shivering baby quickly and tucked him back inside her wrap, where his crying ceased abruptly as he began to nurse.

After the ceremony, the women gathered around Enna, who sat in the sunshine on a rock beside Seld. As a member of her mate's hearth, Seld also was allowed to "see" her. Hands flashed conversationally with the occasional spoken word, dominated by the baby's name. When Oona attempted to say "Rarzenahn", Seld cackled happily, correcting her pronunciation but not at all put out when she decided that "Rarz" was easier to say.

"It is a difficult fit for Clan mouths," the elder admitted. "I suggested it to Bard. It means 'Waves Breaking on the Shore' in the S'Armunai language. But Rarz is a good name, too, if not a traditional Clan name."

The men not of Bard's hearth were still proscribed from "seeing" Enna for a period of time. They sat to one side of the group of women and children by the outside fire, and though none would admit it, every one of them was subtly paying attention to what was happening.

Durc smiled quietly to himself; Seld acted as proudly as if he had given birth to the baby, the son of his mate's son, himself! Plus, he agreed with the old man that "Waves Breaking on the Shore" was a very apt name for a baby born in this location.

He hoped the baby would be the first of a whole series of waves that would be born here to Durc's clan.

Durc slipped from the mud cave and pulled his wolf-skin cloak tighter about himself. The morning was chill and there was a light mist hugging the ground, making the forest seem eerie. Nevertheless, he struck off in the direction etched by horror into his brain. He needed to see for himself that the body of Broud was indeed dead. For if he didn't, he knew the nightmares he had been suffering would continue.

He clutched two spears in his hand, plus both sling and bola were hanging from his belt, along with a small pouch of woven grasses Enna had made for him to hold the sling stones. If the wolves were still at the clearing, he planned to observe from a safe distance but not threaten them.

The mist swirled at his steps and the wolf fur of his cloak soon sparkled with moisture as the sun rose, beginning to evaporate away the evidence of the night's chill breath. Durc was glad of it although the light added little warmth to the day, so late in the season. Both Rog and Bard had offered to accompany him, but Durc had felt this was something he must do by himself.

He felt his spirits lift as the night shadows and mist cleared away, although frost and patches of snow still sparkled in the shaded places under the trees and the frozen grass crunched under his foot coverings. He had spoken to Mog-ur about his bad dreams and Zorn had suggested this trip to lay the demons of Durc's imagination before the winter claimed the clan and forced them all inside. If he could return to the forest, Mog-ur had said, Durc would not build on the fears in his memory. He needed to get back out and walk without fear through his clan's territory. He needed to re-claim it.

Durc felt this made a lot of sense. He certainly did not want to go through the winter spent mostly inside without venturing out through fear of what was, after all, insubstantial. And he certainly was beginning to feel better now as his confidence returned. He strode along, breathing in deeply through his nose, which was essentially healed, the swelling had gone down and the cartilage was straight again. The chilly air plumed out with each breath. The forest had always been his, he was more a sling-hunter than a spear hunter and the forest was his hunting ground.

At last he neared the wolf-den clearing; up ahead, the downed tree still raising its tangled roots to the sky, and the evergreen cistus bushes were gleaming and frosted with ice in the weak sunshine.

Durc slowed, but there was no sound or sign of wolf anywhere, no new scat, even the pawprints left in the dust had been erased by wind and weather. The only sign that anything lived there now was a new rabbit burrow dug into the side of the slope next to the bushes, and two rabbits bounding and playing beside it. That decided Durc: rabbits would not have moved in if wolves were still in residence.

Wolves were intelligent creatures who kept numerous dens throughout their territory; it appeared the pack had felt disturbed enough by what had happened to relocate further afield, away from the frightening scents that had invaded their previously-peaceful home. Durc could see that the clearing itself was empty and (a curious thought but he now did regard the wolves as a type of clan) uninhabited. They had left the area.

As he strode into the clearing the pair of rabbits disappeared into their burrow in a flash of fur. Durc made himself walk in the direction he had seen the wolves attack Broud. There was little evidence left; only ten days had passed but there had been both rain and light snow falls in the intervening time, any bones left had been dragged away by scavengers to gnaw on. The area was once again just another peaceful clearing in the woods.

Durc looked intently at the ground. No bone or speck of blood remained, for which he was grateful, but which was also unsettling at the same time. It made it seem as if the events had never happened and that did not give him the closure he was seeking.

Then, right at the edge of the clearing, he saw it – his magical ivory-pointed spear, lying broken in two pieces under a cistus bush.

Durc bent and picked up both pieces. The spear had been snapped, probably by Broud's last lunge with it, it would never be used again, either as a spear or as a drawing pointer.

As he gazed at the broken spear in his hand, he noticed, just to one side of his feet, something odd protruding from and half hidden under a pile of fallen leaves and snow. With his foot, he nudged the leaves aside and saw a sad piece of frozen and chewed leather – Broud's sling, lying muddy and mangled on the ground. Proof that the man had been here, had died and gone to the spirit world indeed.

Acting on an impulse he couldn't explain but which felt appropriate, Durc raised the pointed half of the spear and drove it hard into the ground, through the leather of the sling, pinning it to the ground. It was symbolic of destroying the wordly goods of a Death Cursed person.

As he did so, he thought he heard, far off on the very edge of hearing, the single howl of a wolf, as if his totem was approving his decision. Broud was dead. He could never threaten anybody ever again, not even in bad dreams. It was finished.

Clouds had covered the sky by the time Durc returned to the mud cave, and a light snow had begun to fall. Durc was anticipating the warmth of Mog-ur's hearth and a meal as he brushed aside the old tent that covered the entrance.

But as he entered, he stopped in amazement. The mud cave had many more people than he was used to, and the newcomers had warm brown skin, black hair and big smiles! Amongst them, one tall Other stood, his colouring and height marking him out. He also was grinning widely when he saw Durc.

Durc took this much in in an instant before a young woman raced towards him, to envelop him in a hug. Against all Custom, he hugged her back tightly, wondering if he was perhaps dreaming.

Kalli was here? Her family and several members of the Sea Kin also? What miracle had occurred?

After a moment he held her at arm's length to enable him to look at her. In the intervening time since he had seen her last, Kalli had matured into an amazingly attractive young woman, with an exotic beauty. Durc drank in her face, memorizing it. If he was going to wake up soon he wanted to remember this incredible dream.

Kalli also was gazing at the tall young man in front of her. Hesitantly she lifted one hand and lightly touched his chin.

"Durc!" she said in surprise. "You have a beard now!"

Durc couldn't help it: this was indeed Kalli, with her forthright frank openness he remembered so well, had yearned to hear for so long. He started to laugh out loud and she joined in, giggling as Toll strode across to grip the young man's shoulder, and then hug him as well.

Soon Durc was surrounded by the Sea Kin, with Zeena and the children and people he recognized from the summer spent with them, while all around hands were flashing in conversation through the mud cave.

"After your clan and Norg's left, my family and some of the other Sea Kin got a bit of wanderlust," Toll gestured. He sipped tea; all around him people were taking their ease around the central firepit, and Durc was not the only one eating a late lunch. "The man of my hearth was a member of a trading clan of Others originally – a branch of the Ramudoi, River People. I must have been of his spirit, since I also love to travel over the water.

'After winter was done, we decided to take a trip by canoe up the coast," Toll continued. "Myself, and Zeena, the children and Kalli, and these youngsters." He indicated the other members of the Sea Kin. "This is Nollan, younger brother of our Master Carver Gragen, and his mate Ifelli. That young man over there, with his face buried in this rich stew," and the young man indicated lifted his head from his bowl and nodded politely to Durc before returning to his meal, "that is Jurgiv. When he is not busy eating, he is a clever craftsman who excels in building canoes that are light to paddle and fast. We travelled in four of his creations on our trip along the coast."

Durc nodded back to him with a smile; he remembered meeting the young man at the Clan Gathering and knew he was originally from the far east along the Caspian Sea, a branch of the Clan known as the Denisovs. He was small and stocky, with delicate features and red hair. His mate was a Sea Kin woman, taller than he was, with dark eyes and long black curls.

One by one Toll introduced them, six in total: Jurgiv's mate Lahli, and Garbahn and his mate Tohki. All six were young and as yet there was no evidence of children. But Durc, knowing of the fecundity of Sea Kin women, knew that it wouldn't be long.

"They were too young to go along when Rashi and a few others left by boat to see what they could find, and when Rashi came to the Clan Gathering and told us about what a great place is Norg's clan, we decided to go and see for ourselves! We left in the spring and have spent the summer with Norg and his clan and at the Sea Kin settlement nearby on the beach, visiting relatives and friends."

"Did you see Grev and Ura?" Durc questioned, eager for news.

"They are doing well with Norg's clan," Kalli answered. She was sitting beside him. "Ura has given birth to a fine and healthy boy! He was so loveable, with hair as red as Grev's!"

"Was he considered deformed?" Durc asked.

Kalli shook her head. "He has some features similar to Ura, he has a bony knob here," and she indicated her own small chin. "He also has a slightly rounded head, like hers. And his legs are a little longer, resembling Sea Kin babies. But in all other ways he is a Clan baby. They are both very proud of him. Ura and Grev both wanted me to tell you that they hope you are happy and that they love you always."

Durc smiled. It was good to know that his friends were happy and healthy. He had no doubts that if the baby had been born in Broud's clan, even the slightest evidence of a chin would have condemned him to be exposed.

"Norg has passed on the leadership of his clan to the son of his mate, Berg," Zeena gestured. "A number of Sea Kin from the settlement on the beach have joined Berg's clan, seeing as they had so few unmated women. Berg is well-respected, since he spent time with them learning to hunt on the sea, and then taking Rashi as mate."

Toll nodded. "So Norg's clan is now Berg's clan. And then we learned from Grev and the others of the … trouble… you had with Broud, and heard that you and Brac were now with this clan, so we decided to visit. Grev told us the landmarks to look out for, the mountain with a rock shaped like a sleeping cave lion. It can easily be seen from the sea. And when we saw the smoke from your fire we made landfall on the beach."

"Where are Brac and Inga?" Kalli asked.

Of course, thought Durc, they couldn't know of the events that had transpired since spring. Grev would still be unaware that the former man of his hearth was now dead. Plus he didn't really want to mention Broud and spoil the holiday mood that the Sea Kin visit had inspired in the whole clan.

"Broud now walks the spirit world," he gestured, deciding that the news of how and why the man had died could wait until another time. "Brac decided to return to the cave as leader at their request, leaving me as Second in this clan."

"Durc was what we call 'Leader Second' for a time," Seld spoke up, and saw Toll nod.

"The Dentratii had similar arrangements when they outgrew grounds or caves and decided to split into two groups," he acknowledged.

"But he is now leader in his own right," Mog-ur put in. The hair that Oona had shaved off was now growing back, filling in the bald spot; in all ways he seemed completely recovered from his traumatic head injury. "He was confirmed earlier in the summer."

"At the same time that you were confirmed Mog-ur," Durc reminded him with a slight smile.

The talking drifted on through the afternoon as each group caught up on news. Durc was happier than at any time he could remember; with Kalli sitting beside him, with Toll and his retinue of Sea Kin family, with the knowledge that he could once more freely roam the forests without fear of malignant spirits.

The line of pale wintry sunshine showing under the old hide tent entrance began to dim as the day lengthened. Hearth fires were stirred up and evening meals were cooked for everybody to share.

"You will stay here tonight, of course, in our mud cave," Durc motioned to Toll. "Do you mind if we put you all together, rather than at individual hearths? We have enough space in the back where we hold our ceremonies, but nobody thought to get enough stones to outline borders for more hearths! We'll have to do that tomorrow."

Toll waved that consideration aside. "We are well used to camping together," he answered. "It is far quicker to travel by water than walking, but even so, destinations can be far apart. We travel during the day, then pull the canoes above the high tide mark on a beach and use them as tents, upturned over us during the night. They provide better shelter than any tents. And we fish during the day as we travel, so there is no need to stop and hunt on land."

"I must see these 'boads'," Durc sounded out the spoken word tentatively.

"I will show them to you tomorrow," Kalli volunteered. "And speaking of shelter, Oona tells me that it was your idea to build a mud cave! When we arrived here earlier we thought the clan here must have come up with the idea themselves, or maybe had contact with Sea Kin. But Oona says they were camping on the cold beach under tents until you arrived."

Durc shook his head. "Brac and Grev were with me," he demurred.

Kalli smiled at him. "Much as I respect Brac and Grev," she said, "I know they would not have dreamed of building a mud cave. This is due to you."

Durc tried not to show how proud her words made him feel deep inside.

"But travelling by canoe on the water and sleeping on sand is beginning to get a little cold, particularly for the children," Zeena put in. "We would take it as a kindness if you would let us winter over with you. If you are too crowded, we will of course return to the Sea Kin…"

"I'm sorry I didn't think to extend the official invitation before." Durc turned to Toll. "I suppose you would qualify as leader of this group?" he asked.

"Me, leader?" Toll answered. "No indeed, Zeena is the leader of our little group…"

He grinned at his mate.

"Don't listen to him, he teases," Kalli advised Durc. "It's because he's an Other. Apparently their people have female leaders as well as men leaders, imagine!"

"Well," Durc gestured, deciding for the moment to put aside the weird customs of the Others, "I will make the invitation to both of you. Toll and Zeena of the Sea Kin, I offer you the hospitality of Durc's clan for the winter."

"We accept with gratitude," Toll answered, dropping his teasing manner. "While it is possible to camp on the beach, I agree with Zeena, it is starting to get cold, and not just for the children! Plus the sea is roughening now. It will be good to have solid earth walls around us again this winter."

The day drew to a close. With full dark, people began to prepare for sleep. The Sea Kin had brought their furs and other belongings from the boats pulled up above high tide level on the beach and they began to settle themselves at the back of the mud cave. Fires had been banked and languid gestured conversations had stopped. Soon the mud cave was filled with the quiet, relaxed sounds of sleeping people.

Durc could not sleep. He lay under his furs and listened to the night. The presence of Kalli, so near, troubled him. He had wanted, all through that afternoon, to tap her shoulder, lead her to the hearth he shared with Mog-ur's family and once out of sight within the boundary stones, make the signal. But there was an impediment, one which did not usually occur to men of the Clan – he wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.

This feeling surprised him, the feelings of the woman involved did not usually get taken into consideration in Clan society. Clan women acquiesced, and if a man appealed to her, then women were not averse to making subtle gestures understood as an invitation to make the signal. But to Durc, this night, Kalli's preference felt vitally important.

He had been overjoyed, not just to see her, but to realize that she was still unmated. Back in the summer they had spent with the Sea Kin, Toll had explained to both Durc and Grev that the Sea Kin tended to take a woman's preferences into consideration far more than the Clan did. If a woman had some objection that weighed against a potential mate significantly, then that mating would not happen. Toll had said that something similar had happened when he and Zeena had decided to mate. The fact that Toll was an Other was unusual, but not prohibitive, particularly when he had said he would stay with the Sea Kin, although it meant his mother and the man of his hearth would travel on to the Ramudoi without him. Toll had also said that he would not have changed that decision for the world.

Durc wanted to mate Kalli, more than anything he'd ever wanted before. He wanted to make a hearth with this young woman, to care for her and any children she would bear. It was a yearning so great that he didn't want to jeopardise it by doing anything to make Kalli decide against him as a mate. He was no longer the oblivious boy he had been when they met. Even back then, Kalli had shown her preference for his company, for wanting him to stay with the Sea Kin. But did she still feel the same way now?

He knew she was fond of him. But was that fondness a feeling of friendship, or more? Was it mere wishful thinking on his part when she looked at him with sparkling dark eyes, smiled with him over some amusing incident, talked to him with the affectionate familiarity of a sibling? It seemed vitally important to him to find out, before going to Toll to request taking Zeena's sister as his mate.

At least, if the Sea Kin were going to winter over with his clan in the mud cave he would have plenty of time to find out. But he had been as sure before and each time some new incident had occurred to thwart him. He didn't want to take any chance that events would conspire so that he would lose the opportunity again! But rushing matters seemed to him not the way to go about it either.

He turned restlessly. On the other side of the hearth fire, Mog-ur, Oona and Selda were all asleep, deep in dreams. Durc wondered if Kalli was also awake, thinking of him as he thought of her. Or was she asleep, and perhaps dreaming of some young hunter of the Sea Kin, a well-favoured hunter similar to Nakul of Trig's clan? Durc was now leader of his own clan, and they showed every evidence of being a cohesive and prosperous group. Would it be enough to tempt her to leave her home and people to join with him?

Even as he worried at these thoughts, he heard a soft footfall on the earthen floor and opened his eyes to see Kalli settle gracefully down by his bedside.

"Can Durc not sleep?" she gestured. "I saw you tossing and turning. This woman, also, is wakeful."

Durc raised himself on one elbow. "I was thinking of you," he signed a little shyly. "I have missed you Kalli. More than once since I last saw you, I wished I had chosen to stay with the Sea Kin."

Kalli shook her head. "You had too many responsibilities, to your brother Grev, to the clan of your birth, and now this clan. But I missed you, as well. So much so that when Kigan asked Toll if he could mate with me, I asked Toll to tell him no. Kigan is a good man. But he is not Durc. And it is Durc that I always wanted as my mate."

Durc's heart was thundering in his chest. Was it possible? That she had turned down a hunter of the Sea Kin in favour of Durc? Before he could even think about making a coherent response, Kalli shivered suddenly.

"I am cold, Durc. May I slip under your furs and share the warmth with you?"

Durc obligingly lifted his furs aside, incidentally revealing his needy condition to her gaze. "If you can find room," he signed with a slight smile.

Kalli's laughing eyes met his in the dim banked light of the hearth. "I think, if we bunch up close, I can fit," she gestured, slipping in beside him.

And as she enfolded him in her loving embrace, he lost his heart to her all over again.

29

"Toll, I want to take Kalli as my mate."

Toll looked at the serious young man sitting beside him and kept the smile from his face with an effort. Had he once been that young and unsure of himself, back when he had fallen so deeply in love with Zeena? Yes, he admitted to himself, he had been…

Zeena had nudged Toll awake that morning, pointing across the cave with a significant expression to indicate two tousled heads, fast asleep at Mog-ur's hearth. One was blonde, the other had black curls, and they lay snuggled close, with Kalli's head nestled on Durc's shoulder. She was on her side and one arm was flung possessively over the young man's bare chest in sleep.

Toll was happy that the sister of his mate and the young man of the Clan had come to an understanding. He and Zeena had known of Kalli's preference for some time. As a result he was prepared for Durc's request.

"I have no objections," he answered now. "And I can speak for Zeena, too, when I say that we are happy for you and Kalli to mate. I know that I am not exactly the man of her hearth, but she has been with us so long that she feels like the daughter of my hearth." He raised one eyebrow, unable to resist teasing. "However, I will have to first get the approval for the mating from the leader of this clan."

Durc's slightly anxious expression relaxed into a smile and his whole posture shifted to one of relief. "I'm sure the leader will agree," he answered.

The pair of them were sitting on a slight rise of the beach, some boulders at their back acting as a wind break. The whole of Durc's clan had come out that morning with the Sea Kin to see the boats. It was a clear day, but cold, and all were rugged up warmly. However the opportunity to see something so novel was too great to keep them indoors.

A big fire had been built with driftwood on the beach and it crackled cheerfully, the flames dancing in the gusts of wind. Some of the clan had been persuaded to sit in the boats while they were stationary on the beach and the Sea Kin were showing them how to use the paddles, men and women alike with the Sea Kin's usual casual disregard of Clan gendered roles. And indeed this was such a new activity that none in Durc's clan could say which gender should paddle boats anyway, with the result that all were learning.

The children, meanwhile, were with Kalli, Enna and Bard, running about searching for seashells. Kalli's shell ornaments had made a big impression and all the clan children wanted some of their own, so they were now busily collecting shells to make them. When they would spot a shell the waves had left, and swoop down to collect it, the beach rang with delighted squeals as the frigid waves washed back towards them and the children tried to avoid the water washing over their feet. Now and then Bard would laugh along with Zeena's children, the younger people all having a great time.

By the fire, Zeena sat with Oona, Mog-ur, Seld and some of the others who had already tried the boats or had decided to pass on the opportunity.

"Tollan," Jurgiv said aloud to attract his attention. He was standing by one of the boats with Rog, Gond, Goud and Verg. When he had Toll's attention, he gestured, "I am going to take these hunters out onto the sea for a short ride."

Toll lifted one hand in acknowledgement, and the five men hefted the canoe between them into the cold waters and got in.

Jurgiv managed to barely get his feet wet, with one hand on the boat's side he gave a slight jump and was in and settled, his agility speaking of a long association with boats and their balance points. The others made it with varying degrees of clumsiness, more or less falling into the canoe. However, they were soon all sitting the right way up and with much splashing began to mimic Jurgiv in his use of a double-bladed paddle.

He chuckled. "Those young men will become fishers in no time," he remarked.

Durc nodded companionably. "Not Bool though," he said, indicating the man sitting at the fire watching the son of his mate on the water in a boat.

"I suppose you need to keep some land hunters," Toll said with a smile.

"I am glad for Kalli's sake that you are no longer with Broud's clan," Toll continued seriously. "I shouldn't say this, but I am relieved that the man has gone to the spirit world. He didn't make a very good impression on us at the Clan Gathering. When it became obvious that so many of the younger ones wanted to make a Journey, I decided the best thing to do would be to go to Norg's clan first, visit with Rashi and the others, and see if Broud had had any change of heart about Sea Kin before coming to see you."

Durc shook his head. "Broud just got worse, according to what I heard." Still he hadn't mentioned the circumstances of the man's death. He was enjoying this day, knowing that Kalli would be his mate, sitting talking companionably to Toll. Life was good.

"Grev told us about your changed circumstances," Toll continued. "And I must say, you seem to have come a long way from tents on the beach to mud caves in such a short space of time!"

Durc felt pleased. "It was very much a joint effort," he demurred. "The clan here is from the north, they have slightly different customs and after they lost their leader and were forced to find another home, they became used to a…less formal …way of life than is strictly customary. I encourage it. I feel we risk becoming stagnant if we rely only on Custom when situations change."

Toll nodded. "Rather like the Sea Kin. We all keep to the Customs, but if there is some leeway, something that does not need to be strictly observed for no good reason, it makes things easier. Like those young men out there on that boat!"

And both men chuckled as Rog, who had fallen overboard, was hauled back onto the canoe by his companions, dripping wet but with amusement evident in every line of his body.

"We learned from Grev that you and Brac had decided to stay with this new clan. We decided to come and visit you on our way home to the Sea Kin," Toll gestured. "We would have come earlier, but the days just slipped away and almost before we knew it, the weather turned chill. So I'm very glad of your offer of hospitality for the winter."

"We will be glad to have all of you, if you don't mind it being a little crowded," Durc answered. "We were meant to have a second mud cave built this season, but like you, we found the time raced past us before we could get it done. You're all welcome to stay longer than the winter, if you wish," he added sincerely. "I am grateful to have more hunters added to our clan, particularly those that can hunt on the sea. And know how to build neater mud caves!"

Toll nodded. "I think the younger ones would like that. This is a good area, with sea and woods so close, an ideal place for the Sea Kin to settle."

They watched as the canoe landed and Rog and his mate Ahma departed to the mud cave to get something dry for him to wear.

"Speaking for myself," Toll continued, "I would still like to make a trip to the people of my mother's mate, the Ramudoi. Just to visit, of course."

"You told me they are … river people?" Durc recalled.

"Yes. I have wanted to see them for many years now. You know that we were all on a Journey to visit our Ramudoi relatives when we came across the Sea Kin and decided to stay for a while with them?"

"Yes, you told me about it. Did your mother and her mate never come back from the Drram… Dramoo, um, how you say it?" he asked, stumbling as he attempted to pronounce the word.

"Ram-yoo-doh-ee." Toll said encouragingly.

"Drramm-ooo-doo-ee," Durc mimicked, pleased when Toll gave him an approving nod at his attempt.

"I never saw them again," Toll continued. "I suppose they decided to stay there. So one day I would like to take Zeena and the children and find the Ramudoi, along the Great River. I would show off my mate and her children to my mother, if she is still alive, and to the man of my hearth. And I would love to see my little sibling again; she is probably mated with children of her own by now."

"You had a sibling?" Durc asked with interest. "You never mentioned her."

"Didn't I? She was," and Toll figured quickly on his fingers, finally holding up six. "Almost this many years when she left with my mother and the man of my hearth." His face relaxed into a fond smile. "It was hard for me, seeing my family leave. But I loved Zeena too much to leave her, and I was too fascinated with the Sea Kin to leave them! My sibling was a lovely little girl," Toll continued. "She was even blonder than me, with eyes the same blue-grey colour. You could tell I was her older sibling, we looked alike! Since our mother's mate was a River Man, of course we both learned from him how to swim, almost before we learned to walk!"

"What was her name?" Durc asked curiously.

"Aylarra. Aylarra of the Dentratii."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still for Durc, the spoken word echoing in his mind.

He felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at the man beside him, consciously matching up Toll's looks with his own half-remembered memories of his mother, and with glimpses he had seen of himself reflected from still ponds…yes, the hair, the shape of the face, the height, the high domed head, so similar…

"Durc?" Toll asked in concern. "Are you all right? You look like you've just seen a spirit."

Durc stared at Toll. His throat had gone dry. "My mother…her name…was Ayla."

"What?" The gesture was shaky. "No … it can't be … tell me again how your mother ended up living with the Clan?"

"She…she lost her people, Uba told me it was in an earthquake, they thought. They came upon a little girl, a child of the Others, near death. Iza…Uba's mother and Medicine Woman…took her in, saved her life and raised her as if she were her own." Durc hesitated, then added, "Uba told me that my mother…the only thing she could remember when they found her was her name. Iza told Uba that the word she said sounded like 'Ayla', but was longer. The clan couldn't say the full name. So she became known as Ayla."

Toll was pale now as well. "So…so you're saying… that…oh, no! Great Mother, no!" He buried his face in his hands; his shoulders shook with grief.

Zeena and Kalli had seen the distress on the faces and body language of the two men and hurried over, sitting down beside them.

"Durc? What has happened?" Kalli asked.

"Toll?" Zeena said at the same time, the word full of concern.

Toll lifted his head and Durc could see tears of grief in his eyes. "I have just learned," he gestured, "that my mother and her mate died, probably before they reached the Ramudoi, in an earthquake. And my sibling survived, lived with the Clan, only to die years later. And that means that Durc…" he paused and his eyes met those of Durc's. "I am Durc's uncle."

Durc's clan had regrouped back at the mud cave. All had by now heard of the revelation about their leader and the man of the Others, and were sitting around the central hearth, respectfully listening to what was to them a dramatic new story to add to their long oral history.

Durc and Toll talked, each bringing up their memories of Ayla and her life. It was a sombre subject, but Durc felt relief at being able to talk, openly, about his mother to this man, her older sibling.

He realized now that the similarities he had thought were coincidences between himself and Toll could not be explained simply by Durc's connection to the Others. It had not occurred to him before, but he could see the similarities in the faces and body language of Seld and Bard, and Durc resembled Toll in a similar way. There was a definite resemblance in Durc's physique to Toll's – tall, lithe with a wiry slenderness, and blonde hair. Durc's eyes were brown, from his southern Clan heritage, but he had never developed the heavy brow ridges of an adult Clan man, and his domed head rose up as high as Toll's. They had the same long limbs, the same long bones in their fingers.

"I could count eight years when Aylarra was born," Toll was saying. "My mother had given birth to another child, a little boy, but he died of a fever when he was still in his weaning year. I don't remember much about him. But I do remember how happy it made my mother Nelannry and her mate Dolarno to have a girl child at our hearth! And everybody loved Aylarra, she was a happy child and clever."

"I only have a few memories of her," Durc admitted. "She went to the spirit world when I was quite young. Sometimes I wonder if the memories I have of her are my own memories or ones I've imagined from what Uba and the other people of the clan told me. Uba was raised with Ayla, she was like a sister to her. And I know Goov and his mate were very fond of Ayla, as well, they were friendly." He paused. "The weather is still mild enough to permit travel, Toll. I think you and I, travelling lightly, should hike to Brac's clan tomorrow. We can be back here by the day after. I know I would like some answers, and you deserve more of the story than I can give you. Tomorrow, you and I should go to speak to Uba."

30

"It was before I was born," Uba said. "But I was told of what happened, by my mother Iza."

She gazed at the two men sitting at the central hearth. They had arrived earlier in the day, with the revelation that the tall Other, Toll, mated to Zeena of the Sea Kin, was actually Ayla's older sibling! Uba could not deny that this did indeed make for a special relationship with Durc – in the Clan, the male siblings of a woman felt a special closeness with any children she had, similar to their feelings towards their own mate's children.

The two men had been welcomed by Brac and were glad to get out of the weather, which had turned. It had begun to snow outside and both of them were grateful for the hot food and drink that Uba brought to them as they sat by the communal fire pit in the centre of the cave. Now that Uba had been told of the relationship, she could see the familial similarities between the two men, subtle enough to have been missed during their stay with the Sea Kin, or else brushed aside as coincidence.

"It was Brun's clan back then," Uba continued. "And they lived in a small cave further out on the steppes. Iza told me that there was an earthquake and their old cave was destroyed. So they salvaged whatever they could carry and set off looking for a new cave. My mother lost her mate to the cave-in."

"My mother also lost her mate," Vorn put in. "Droog became the man of my hearth by taking my mother as his new mate. I was still a child at the time."

"Do you remember when Ayla was found, Vorn?" Uba asked, but Vorn shook his head.

"I do," Droog spoke up. Nearly everybody had gathered at the central hearth now to hear the story. "Brun saw carrion birds circling in the sky and we turned a little in that direction in case there was a wounded animal we could bring down for some fresh meat. There was … something lying on the ground when we got there. It was a child, not a Clan child, but an Other. There was no sign of her people anywhere, and we thought she was dead. We moved on, but Iza stopped to investigate. When Brun told her to come, she pleaded with him, saying that the child still lived. Brun allowed her to take the child with us. It was due to her good luck that we found this cave."

Many people, particularly the older members of Brac's clan, were nodding in agreement as they too recalled the day Ayla had been found.

"I was Mog-ur's acolyte at the time," Goov gestured now. "We thought that our totem spirits wanted a new home and they led us to the child. I know Brun was discouraged and thinking of turning back to a less-than-ideal cave we had found earlier. But Ayla wandered off and when Iza went to get her, there was this cave! And when Mog-ur revealed that Ayla had the cave lion as her totem, we were all amazed. But the cave lion spirit marked her himself on the thigh with four marks, the sign of the cave lion totem, so that none could argue and say it was not so."

"And was there no sign of her people anywhere when you found her?" Toll asked hopelessly.

Goov shook his head. "I'm sorry, Toll. All of us could see that the only other human footprints were those of the child. And we were in an area frequented by cave lions, we saw their scat and pawprints, so we needed to keep moving. The wonder of it is that they only marked her leg, they didn't kill her! That is how Mog-ur-before-me knew that her scars were her totem's way of showing she was under his protection."

"From her condition," Droog put in, "we thought she must have been wandering without her people for some time. She was gaunt and starved-looking. I remember thinking that she was dead when I first saw her."

"She told me, years later," Uba put in, "that she didn't remember her people at all. Just her name. She said she had a vague memory of shaking ground and then a feeling of dreadful loss, and she must have been wandering without food for some time – Iza told me when she found her, she was close to death, from infection and hunger. Iza managed to save her with her healing magic. But I remember that Ayla always feared the rumbling of the earth."

"Do you remember how many days you were travelling before you found her?" Durc asked, turning to Mog-ur, knowing he was the only one able to provide such detailed information.

Goov thought for a moment. "You must remember, I was only an acolyte at the time, I was still studying the number magic," he said. "But I think it was at least," and he held up both hands with six fingers extended, "This many days that we travelled, looking for a cave."

"When Zeena and I had just mated," Toll said now, "we felt an earthquake. It wasn't bad, it barely disturbed us, so it must have been some distance away. The moon had gone through half of one of its cycles from the time my mother, her mate and Aylarra had left to the time the earthquake struck. If it was the same one. Oh, Great Mother! If only I'd known, I would have been able to find her and bring her back to live with me. But it never even occurred to me that something like this could happen."

Many in the clan nodded sympathetically. They could understand grief at the loss of a loved one.

"I only remember that particular earthquake because we lived on the coast, and sometimes earthquakes wake and anger the spirit of the seas and he causes the water to surge onto land. That can be dangerous and destructive. Boats have been tipped over, people washed away," Toll continued. "Earthquakes are at all times an ill omen, nobody likes them."

They continued to talk around the central hearth for some time, Uba and the others recalling Ayla's life with the clan and events, both funny, sad and interesting, that had occurred while she lived with them. Oga even stood up and enacted the tale of Brac and Ayla in dramatic signed language, how it had been Ayla who had decided to save the toddler taken by a hyena, even though it had revealed the secret of her hunting to the clan.

As the day darkened into late afternoon people began to drift away to prepare meals. Toll was too overwhelmed by everything that he had heard that he ate without speaking much, then took himself to the furs Uba had laid out for him at Vorn's hearth and went to sleep.

Durc stayed up a little later, talking quietly with Uba and Vorn. He had long ago gotten used to the shock of his mother's death, and of course he had never known of Toll's mother and her mate. His mind was full of a quiet wonder that his mother had a living Other relative, and through extension, so did he. Durc had liked Toll from the first time he met him at the Sea Kin campfire. If all Others were like him, Durc felt that there must be common ground they could all share. And certainly, since he came across the Sea Kin and then met Seld and Bard, he realized that such mixtures of both types of human were not as rare as he had previously assumed. From thinking himself deformed and the only one of his type, he had found that there were many other kinds of human, and who was to say who was deformed and who was not? It seemed all were fully functional and just a little different as to culture, custom and appearance.

Finally, Durc put his cup of tea down beside him and motioned, "By the way, I will be getting mated soon. To Kalli, do you remember her?"

"Oh, Durc, that is wonderful news!" Uba gestured. "Yes, of course I remember Kalli. Isn't Toll the man of her hearth?"

Durc shook his head. "Kalli is the younger sister of Toll's mate. He and Zeena looked after her once her mother and mother's mate died."

"I remember when she came to get me, Zeena had just gone into labor," Uba said. "How are Zeena and the baby now?"

"The baby boy is now an active toddler, getting into everything and trying to keep up with his older siblings!" Durc answered, thinking of the chubby little boy who had arrived with Toll and his family at the mud cave the day before. "I was so pleased to learn that Kalli was still unmated, I decided that I should take the opportunity."

"I remember how friendly you and Kalli, Grev and Ura all were when we stayed with the Sea Kin," Vorn volunteered, surprising Durc that the man had paid such attention to his friendships.

Vorn saw his look and shrugged self-consciously. "I always took an active interest in what you were doing, but as second to the leader-before-Brac, I was not always free to show my affection towards you openly. But I hope you know that I have always felt as if you were the son of my mate, the child of my hearth."

Durc felt a warm affection towards the older man. "I barely remember Creb," he motioned now. "I always thought of you, Vorn, as the man of my hearth."

Toll was still rather quiet and withdrawn the next morning as he and Durc left the cave of Brac's clan to return to the mud cave of Durc's clan.

The snow that had begun the previous day had fallen softly during most of the night, and while it was not yet deep and the flakes had ceased to fall, what was on the ground slowed down their progress somewhat. They stopped to rest in the lee of a large boulder around mid-morning. They lit a fire and heated water and ate some travelling cakes. The exertion of walking through snow had kept them warm but the stop to rest made them realize how cold it had become and they warmed their hands before the fire appreciatively.

"Toll?" Durc said. "You have been very quiet, my friend. Are you still grieving the loss of your family?"

Toll shook his head. "I think I knew in my heart that my mother and her mate were no longer alive," he signed. "They would be quite old by now and I accepted that. But the shock was that my little Sibling was dead too. I have always imagined her living with people, mated and with children, happy… It was a shock to know that she had such a hard life with the Clan. The Sea Kin culture was strange to me, but how much more free it is than some of the clans I have seen since. It seems women in particular are treated badly. Not all clans," he amended. "But the leader-before-Brac was …disapproved of by the Sea Kin and I later learned by Norg's clan, too, for his strict interpretation of Custom in all things, apart from things he personally wanted. It seemed that if he wanted something, Custom was thrown to scatter in the wind like chaff. He was no leader."

Toll was quiet for a while, then added, "I am glad to know that Broud is dead. After hearing of the ordeal my little Sibling went through at his hands, if he was still alive, I would have killed him myself. I fear I would have picked up the nearest spear and run him through with it."

Durc nodded. "I was only a very small child when my mother left to walk the next world, and I don't remember much," he admitted. "But I grieved for her, she was mama who I loved. I love Uba as well, but it was not the same. I remember for a long time after I would wake up from dreams with wet eyes and beg Uba to make her come back to us. I had to grow up before I realized that no magic is strong enough to bring the dead back to us, no matter how much we wish it could."

Durc paused for a moment, then said, "I think you should know how Broud came to die, Toll. I was there and saw it all. My totem spirit, the Grey Wolf, killed him. Let me tell you about it…"

31

In the central gathering hearth of the mud cave, the people stood watching in respectful attention as Mog-ur, with silent formal gestures, addressed the spirits.

He dipped his middle finger into the bowl of yellow ochre and drew the sign of Kalli's otter totem over the scar of Durc's wolf totem mark, symbolising the union of their spirits. Dipping again into the ointment, he painted Durc's mark over Kalli's, following the outline of the scar and blurring her mark.

"Spirit of Grey Wolf, totem of Durc," Mog-ur gestured, "your sign has overcome Spirit of Otter, Totem of Kalli. May Ursus allow that it will always be so. Durc, do you accept this woman?"

Durc's heart was pounding. This day was the culmination of something he had longed for but had held no hope of ever achieving. Now that it had finally arrived, he felt shaky.

He stepped forward and tapped Kalli on the shoulder, motioning for her to follow him to the newly outlined hearth that was to be his. Kalli jumped up to follow her new mate. She kept her eyes properly on the ground as Custom dictated, but once inside their hearth, out of conscious "sight" of the rest of the clan, she lifted her head. Her eyes met Durc's, and she smiled at him.

Durc filled his mind with Kalli's smile. His heart beat with love for her as he smiled back. The rest of his clan faded to the back of his mind as he embraced, at last, his mate, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

32

Durc's hunting party had brought down a good-sized young bison with thrown spears and transported it back to the mud cave. It was a hot day in late summer and it was hard, dirty work to transport such a big carcass, even with so many hunters taking turns to lift and heave the animal back.

If it had been any bigger, Durc mused as he took his turn lifting the beast, he would have considered having the women come out to the site and they could have all camped for a few days cutting up the meat. But there had been no convenient water holes or streams this late in the season and that had decided him to move it back to their mud cave to butcher.

Once back, the men went to the stream to wash the sweat and dust from their bodies, thankfully plunging into the cool water and splashing about. Some of the older children joined them, squealing with delight when one or other of the hunters picked them up to place on their shoulders for an impromptu ride in the water.

The women had pounded some soaproot and rosemary leaves together with rocks for the men to use and Durc lathered himself up with a handful of the aromatic cleansing mixture, standing knee-deep in the water before rinsing himself by wading to the middle of the stream and letting the current of water cool his hot body.

He ducked his head to let the clear water stream through his long blonde hair, then surfaced to laze about for a moment, watching the activity by the mud cave, letting his tired muscles relax.

The women had fetched their tools and were efficiently skinning and butchering the bison, their hands moving conversationally as they did so.

Durc's eyes roved over the women and he spotted Kalli. She was sitting on a log beside her friend Enna, the pair of young women busily slicing meat into tongue-shaped pieces and threading them on to lines to dry over a smoky fire. Enna's nine month old baby Rarz was lying on a grass mat beside the log, sucking his thumb, fast asleep in the shade cast by the mud cave.

Kalli looked up and her eyes met Durc's. He grinned at her and saw her answering smile. She put one hand to her stomach, and signalled with the other in abbreviated signs, "Baby kicking! Poor Kalli!" But her face glowed, and she looked delighted.

Durc lifted one hand from the water, using the other to stabilize himself, and signed back in the same abbreviated gestures used over distance, "Tell baby, leader say stop! Must treat mother with honour and respect." And chuckled to himself as he saw Kalli play along, making remonstrating gestures at her stomach and shaking one finger, with Enna watching with a puzzled expression, wondering why her friend was apparently scolding her own stomach.

Durc knew that Ura would have gotten the joke, and perhaps Grev as well, used as he was to Durc's idiosyncratic humor, and wondered how his two friends were faring.

Once Kalli's baby is born and a little bigger, he thought, perhaps we can take a canoe up the coast to Berg's clan and visit for a while next summer.

Or the whole clan might enjoy an excursion and travel overland, taking presents with them so as to not overtax Berg's hunting and foraging grounds, and visit. So long as the hunting stayed as good as it had been this year they could afford to take the time to visit old friends and relatives in other clans. Durc could see no need for the clans to stay isolated except for the Clan Gatherings; why not visit and maintain good relationships, so long as nobody was inconvenienced by it? There was nothing in Custom against it.

Durc swam back to the bank and hauled himself out of the water to sit on a rock to let the sunshine and warm air dry him.

He saw movement in the trees and looked in that direction to see Mog-ur and Seld coming back from hunting in the forest with their slings. Bard saw them as well, and walked out of the water, still dressed only in his hunting wrap, to join his mentor and the man of his hearth as they went to inspect the big bison.

Mog-ur had not participated in any of the more active group hunts this year. His head injury had largely healed over the winter and spring months and the bone inside had begun to regrow; however he was still rather slow and clumsy and any exertion made him feel faint.

It had been decided that he should only hunt small game with a sling until he felt able to keep up with the other hunters; although he was as stoic as any man of the Clan, his function as Mog-ur was too important to risk straining him when they now had a surplus of good hunters, not only on the land but also on the water. Mog-ur's Portion compensated him for not being able to hunt big game, but still he liked to go out with his acolyte and Seld now and then and hunt with the sling as they had used to do.

Now Durc watched them, remembering the first time he had seen the three men together just like this. Bard had still been a boy, with a boy's soft face although tall for his age. The young man's height now matched that of Durc and Toll, the two tallest men in the clan, he had a full beard and had become a good deal more muscular. Although tall and ungainly-looking with such long legs, he moved with the lithe and easy grace Durc had seen displayed by Toll. Durc knew he himself also moved in that way and realized it was a trait of the Others, with their legs longer and straighter than the legs of Clan people.

Seld still appeared to be the same; it seemed the man had hit an age that suited him and now stayed there, unchanged, with the lines of good humor perhaps a little deeper on his face but apparently no older. He was still vigorous and enjoyed making a positive contribution to the clan's food supply, even if it were only a squirrel or other small game.

Mog-ur saw Durc on the riverbank and went over to join him.

"Good hunting!" he remarked, sitting down beside Durc.

"It was a numerous herd," Durc replied.

He gestured towards Toll and Jergiv; Rog was giving them more instruction in the use of the thrown spears now that they had finished their swim. "Toll is getting very proficient with the thrown weapon," he gestured. "Jergiv still needs some practice though. I would have thought he'd do well with a smaller spear, but he prefers the old lance still."

Mog-ur gazed about happily. "Some will always be more comfortable with the old ways. I know of the Denisovs, we had a cave of them to the east of us when I was a child. They are cousins to the Clan and have many of their own Customs that differ from ours. Myself, I'm pleased that we finally have the Place of the Spirits built. And thanks to that big bison you caught today, we can take some time from hunting for the next few days and should get the third mud cave finished in time for the cold months. A little more space for working and storage would be welcome, especially with all the babies being born."

Durc looked across at the new mud cave rising proudly, and a good deal more neatly, to the side of the original and bracketed by the large completed Place of Spirits for their ceremonies.

The settlement certainly was growing.

He was about to say something else to that effect, when he realized that Mog-ur, although physically present, had the strange unfocused expression on his face when he was preoccupied with visions from the spirit world. Durc waited, and after a moment, Mog-ur blinked, then turned to him.

"Do you remember," Mog-ur began, "what I was telling you, when we first met? About how we travelled to the place where there was a cave lion rock silhouetted against the sky, by the sea?"

Durc nodded. "I remember. It was your vision from Ursus," he gestured.

"This was what I saw," Mog-ur continued, his hand sweeping around the area. "Several strange caves like muddy mushrooms rising from the earth. I saw a great fat bison being skinned, and people of different colours and shapes, and many happy, well-fed children. This, today, was my vision Durc! It has come true - this is our future!"

END

Cast of Characters (in alphabetical order)

* = Totem unknown

Aga. * Mate of Droog. Mother of son Vorn, daughter Ona, son Groob.

Ahma. * Woman of the Coastal Clan. Mated to Rog.

Ayla. Totem Cave Lion. Born to Others. Adopted into Clan. Brought up by Iza, First Medicine Woman of Brun's Clan and by Creb, Iza's sibling and former Mog-ur. Mother of Durc. Cursed with Death by order of Broud and left the Clan. (Believed deceased.)

Bardelmarn. Totem Hawk. (Also known as Bard.) Young man of the Coastal Clan.

Berg. * Eldest son of Norg and his mate from Norg's Clan. Mate of Rashi, originally of the Sea Kin.

Bool. * Hunter formerly of Norg's Clan. Father of Rog.

Borg. Totem Wild Boar. Hunter of the Clan. Mate of Ona, father of twin boys, Jerd and Veb.

Brac. Totem Cave Hyena. First born son of Oga and Broud. Mate of Igra.

Bron. * Younger brother of Gorn, who died in the Bear Ceremony at the last Clan Gathering. He is from Norg's Clan. (Deceased.)

Broud. Totem Woolly Rhinoceros. Current leader of the Clan. Mate of Oga. Father of son Brac, son Grev, son Durc and daughter Eda.

Brun. Totem Bison. Former leader of Clan. Mate of Ebra. Father of Broud.

Creb. Totem Roe Deer and Ursus the Cave Bear. Former Mog-ur of Brun's Clan. (Deceased.)

Cron *. Hunter of Norg's Clan, mate of Oda.

Crug. * Hunter of the Clan. Mate of Ika. Father of daughter Igra, son Borg, and baby son Dron.

Dolarno * Father of Tollander, mate of Nelannry. (Deceased.)

Dron * Infant son of Ika and Crug.

Droog. Totem Aurochs. Master flint-knapper. Mate of Aga. Father of eldest son Goov, adoptive father of Ona and Vorn, biological father of Groob.

Durc. Totem Grey Wolf. Son of Ayla and Broud, adopted son and nephew of Uba.

Ebra. * Mate of Brun, mother of Broud.

Eda. * Daughter of Broud and Oga.

Emai. * Woman of the Coastal Clan

Enba * Mate of Jorg, leader of the western coastal Clan the Sea Kin.

Enna * Woman of the Coastal Clan, Bard's mate.

Evya * Woman of the Coastal Clan, mated to Bool.

Goov. Totem Aurochs and Ursus the Cave Bear. Current Mog-ur (Holy Man, religious leader) of Broud's Clan. Eldest son of Droog.

Gond * Hunter formerly of Norg's Clan.

Goud (1) * Previous leader of the western coastal Clan, before the arrival of the Sea Kin. His son, Jorg, is current leader. (Deceased.)

Goud (2) * Hunter formerly of Norg's Clan.

Gragen. * Son of the mate of Yend, of Jorg's Clan.

Grev. Totem Horse. Second son of Oga and Broud. Acolyte to Mog-ur.

Grod. * Second in command to Brun when it was his Clan. Son of Zoug. Mated to Uka, father of Ovra.

Groob. * Youngest son of Aga and Droog. In training as flint-knapper with his father.

Igra. Totem Lark. Daughter of Crug and Ika. Mate to Brac.

Ika. * Mate of Crug. Three children, son Borg, daughter Igra, baby son Dron.

Inga. * Biological daughter of Uba.

Irai. * Medicine woman of the Coastal Clan, mate of Seld. (Deceased.)

Itta. * Mate of Rog.

Iza. Totem Saiga Antelope. First Medicine Woman of Brun's Clan. Sibling to both Creb and Brun. Adoptive mother of Ayla. Biological mother of Uba. (Deceased.)

Jarna. * Young woman of the Sea Kin Clan, eldest daughter of Zeena and Tollander, mated to a man of the Denisov Clan.

Jerd. * Infant son of Ona and Borg. Twin brother of Veb.

Jergiv * Man of the Denisov Clan, living with the Sea Kin.

Jorg. * Current leader of the Western Coastal Sea Kin Clan.

Kalli. Totem Otter. Young woman of the Western Coastal Sea Kin Clan. Younger sister of Zeena.

Kigan * Young man of the Western Coastal Sea Kin Clan, mentioned as a man interested in mating Kalli.

Mov. * Mog-ur of Jorg's Clan.

Nelannry * Mother of Tollander. Mate of Dolarno.(Deceased.)

Nakul. * Hunter of Trig's Clan, to the north-east. Cousin of Kalli.

Norg. * Leader of Clan to the East. Host of last Clan Gathering.

Oda. Totem Field Mouse. Woman of Norg's Clan. Mother of Ura.

Oga * Mate of Broud, leader of Clan. Three children, sons Brac and Grev, daughter Eta.

Ona. Totem Owl. Mate of Borg. Mother of twin boys, Jerd and Veb.

Oniv. * Man of the Denisov Clan, mated to Jarna.

Oona. Totem Marmot. Medicine Woman of the Coastal Clan.

Ovra. Totem Beaver. Mate of Goov. Daughter of Grod and Uka.

Rarzenahn. * (Also known as Rarz.) Infant son of Enna.

Rashi. * Mate of Berg, originally of the Sea Kin. Now a young woman of Norg's Clan.

Rog.* Hunter previously of Norg's Clan. Mate of Ahma.

S'Eldakarn. Totem Dhole. (Also known as Seld.) Man of the S'Armunai, later of the Coastal Clan, father of Bardelmarn.

Selda. Totem Caribou. Daughter of Medicine Woman Oona and Mog-ur Zorn.

Siya. * Medicine Woman of Western Coastal Sea Kin.

The Sea Kin. People of mixed spirits of African Others and Clan, in close alliance and living with Jorg's Western Coastal Clan.

Tollander * (Also known as Toll.) Man of Dentratii, mated to Zeena.

Trig * Leader of a Clan to the north-east of Jorg's Clan.

Uba. * Biological daughter of Iza. Uba is also First Medicine Woman of Clan. Adoptive mother and biological aunt of Durc. Mother of one daughter, infant Inga. Mate of Vorn.

Uka. * Mate of Grod, mother of Ovra.

Ura. Totem Raven. Young woman of Norg's Clan to the East. Promised as mate to Durc in a Mother's Promise between Ayla and Ura's mother Oda.

Veb. * Infant son of Ona and Borg. Twin brother of Jerd.

Verg. * Hunter, formerly of Norg's Clan.

Vorn. * Eldest son of Aga and her mate prior to Droog. Second in command to leader Broud. Mate to Uba. Adoptive father of Durc and biological father of daughter Inga.

Yend. * Master flint-knapper of Jorg's Western Coastal Clan.

Zeena. * Woman of the Western Coastal Sea Kin Clan, mated to Toll.

Zorn. Totem Caribou and Ursus the Cave Bear. Acolyte of the Coastal Clan.

Zoug. * Oldest man in Broud's Clan. Master sling-hunter. Father of Grod.