Author's Note:
This series chronicles the adventures of Anya, Ayla's daughter, and her encounters with Ayla's Clan. The Clan, after the earthquake years before, had never found another permanent home and made their way westward.
I wish to mention right now that I have changed a few things than what the reader knew in the series by Jean Auel. It's not much, it is just that I strech a bit on probability, extended the average lifespans of the Clan and Others to match ours today, and am choosing to overlook a few cultural restrictions with both the Clan and Zelandonii, all for the better purposes of telling the stories. Do not let this detract you from enjoying the stories, however--how many of you have wanted to see Durc and Ayla reunite?
Go ahead and read on.....

The cries of the ptarmigan birds echoed throughout the wooden valleys and cliffs that made up the territory of the Zelandonii. One lone, young hunter eyed them with a faint smile on her lips, she loved the taste of the feathery birds more than anything else, and with her sling in hand, they were easy targets.

Quick as a flash, she had two stones in hand and whizzing through the air from her sling. A resounding thwock! thwock! echoed sharply, and the birds fell to the ground with a soft thump. The lone young hunter had not missed her mark.

Pushing her long, ringlet-curly yellow hair out of her eyes, Anya dismounted from her horse and went to collect her prize. Her sharp violet gaze had noted where the birds had fallen and she found them easily.

Anya regretted her mother was not there to share her catch. Ayla and Jondalar were visiting the Lazandonii, and would not be back for some days yet, if they stayed away as long as expected. But both mother and daughter shared a love of the feathery-footed bird, and she knew her mother would have been delighted.

Anya finished tying the birds to her belt with a thong, where they hung right next to the otter-skin medicine bag that was identical to the one her own mother carried. Anya was very familiar of the tales of her mother's first people, those known as the Clan of the Cave Bear. Her mother had taught her daughter everything about the clan she knew, including the healing magic, their beautifully synchronized, gestured laguage, and the hunting skills her mother had so finely developed in secret those years ago.

As a result, the Ninth Cave had three excellent medicine women, Ayla, Anya, and Zelandoni, who had returned to live with the Cave some years before. All three were excellent healers and were well-respected, even revered for their ties with the Earth Mother, Doni.

Anya quickly went back to her horse, Star, and hoisted her slender frame onto the horse's back. Star nickered softly and lifted her feet nervously. Something was bothering her, and Anya clearly sensed it. An odd smell wafted in on the breeze, and it almost turned her stomach momentarily.

She softly crooned to Star, calming her as best as she could. An icy chill ran down her spine, she could feel the spirits calling to her as she turned her horse in the direction of the smell. She had learned to be aware for signs such as this, they almost always proved to be of worth. Her awareness of spirits was one that made even her mother nervous, and her totem was often stretched to the limit to protect her.

Not disobeying the insistent call of the spirits this time, she let them guide her further and further into the woods, heedless of the fact she was wandering into Clan territory.

****

The smell only became stronger as she got closer. She could not identify it, and being a medicine woman, she knew many smells. Her totem amulet bounced gently on her chest, she silently begged the spirit of Ursus to protect her as she investigated this odd phenomenon. Not only had Ayla taught her what she knew of the Clan religion, Anya could speak as well as any clan person in their silent and everyday languages, down to the rich nuances and expressions the gestural languages contained.

She also had a Clan totem like her parents, but this one was to Ayla's horror. Idly, Sharie traced the scars that marked the tanned flesh of her inner left arm. That day, when she was six and her totem had marked her and claimed her as his, was a day she would never forget.

*Flash*

"Mamma! Help, Mama, Jondalar, help! Ahhhh!" came the girl's shrieks as she stumbled through the woods, the Cave Bear persuing so close the child could not even reach for her sling to defend herself.

Unfortunately, the hunting party was so far away they barely heard the child's cries for help. They turned and ran towards the sounds, but they feared they would be too late to save her.

Anya cried out one more time as she skittered up a tree, almost entangling herself and her spear-thrower on the branches. She was so young, she had barely become a perfect shot, and she was small. She did not know if they could do anything.

The bear, angry, reared up on her hind legs and swatted at the child just out of reach. Anya, trembling, managed to get the proper grip of the spear-thrower right in her trembling hands as she reached for the pack of tiny spears on her back. The branch beneath her cracked, and she had no doubt it was going to break and she would fall. It would mean death to her if she fell right onto the bear with it alive. They were difficult to kill.

Knowing she would only have time for one or two shots, she aimed carefully and shot with all the strength she had, closing her eyes and begging Doni for guidance. She had been so frightened, the surge of adrenaline had given her a paranormal surge of energy, and to her shock, the blade drew straight and true right into the bear's neck.

She was astounded. How had that happened? Again, unseen hands guided her second arrow's path, this time piercing the animal's tough hide and into the heart. Rarely did even grown men survive to kill a cave bear in such a way.

The adrenaline rush stopped as soon as it had begun, to be replaced by a new fear. Just as the bear collapsed in a pool of blood, the branch Anya was on broke, and it sent her hurtling towards the ground as she cried out in terror.

She landed with a thud in a large patch of ferns right next to the near-dead bear. Thanks to the cushioning, she knew she would only have a bruised posterior at most as she instantly recovered from the momentary stunning sensation. The bear lay still, and she could hear the hunting party crashing through the brush towards her location.

Her shriek mingled in the air once more as, with a last burst of strength, the bear regained consciousness enough to lift her head, growl weakly, and make one last swipe at her tiny target, catching her huge claws in several gashes across Anya's inner forearm before the girl could scramble away. Blood poured from the wound, and Anya almost fainted, except for the strange, paranormal calm that came over her, a sudden inner conviction she could not explain. She would be all right, she knew it, and had nothing to fear.

Sated, the bear twitched one more time, then lay still as she died.

Alya, upon seeing her daughter standing there with blood running down her arm and an almost serene look on her face, gave a cry of fright as she reached over and scooped the child up. Exclamations ran through the crowd of hunters, speculating how the girl had done it. It was unheard-of! A child killing a bear so large, and getting away with just a few scratches! Most grown men could not kill such a creature without sustaining serious injury or death.

No sooner had Ayla bound her daughter's wounds than the child squirmed free. Once again, she felt unseen hands guiding her, and she sensed a spirit close by. Everyone was struck dumb as she went directly back to the patch of furns, where a tiny bear cub was sniffling the body of it's dead mother. It revealed the reason for the mother bear's anger, and Anya suddenly understood her responsibility. Knowing her mother's reverence for the bear also, she knew that Ayla would agree.

When the hunters had returned from the hunt with a baby Cave Bear in tow and an incredible tale on their lips, nobody could believe it, and they were almost frightened of the small girl who had killed a bear single-handedly and could control the actions of the baby bear with such ease, for her and the baby bear had quickly become friends.

But the part that had terrified her mother, Ayla, the most was yet to come. She had told Zelandoni, first among Those Who Served the Mother, the strange tale, and the woman had listened with much interest. She had seen something in the woman's eyes, but Ayla did not understand what the woman was planning.

A few days after the incident, when the girl's scars had healed sufficently, Zelandoni, to everyone's surprise, had called a special meeting of the Ninth Cave, and when everyone was assembled, had motioned Ayla and Anya forward.

"A few days ago," she began, "The Mother and her spirits smiled upon us with the sparing of the life of Anya, daughter of Ayla of the Zelandonii, also of the Mamutoi and the Clan of the Cave Bear, protected by the Cave Lion." The usage of Ayla's high-ranking titles and affilations was for emphasis.

"With the killing of the bear and the taming of the younger bear, the spirits have shown us favor and are granting their special protection to one of our own. It is my belief that those with totemic protection will benefit greatly from powerful protection, but also face harsh tests. I believe that young Anya has already overcome her first test, and since her mother is guarded by a spirit of the Clan, so shall it be the child."

Out of nowhere, Zelandoni had produced a bowl of red ochre paste, and firmly, and quickly, painted lines over the girl's healing scars, clan-style.

Ayla had watched with a growing sense of horror. It went against everything she had understood as a child as the Zelandoni produced an amulet, like her own that Ayla wore, and placed it about the neck of the child before speaking again.

"The spirits have spoken to me and told me thus. Anya of the Zelandonii, you are under the guardianship of the Cave Bear, having been so marked and withstood your first real trial. May your life be long and your achievements great, as benefitting someone under such powerful protection."

Ayla cried out and fainted.

****

Now, sixteen-year-old Anya smiled faintly. She knew very well the reason why her mother had fainted. Ursus never had a woman as his totem, it was forbidden by the spirits. She possibly was the first in history with the great bear as a guardian spirit, and it had frightened her mother to no end. Plus, her mother, even with her radical ideas about spirits mixing, feared her daughter would never have a baby, if her totemic spirit was this powerful. Anya had become a woman five years before and still had no children, was unmated.

*And I prefer it that way.*

Suddenly, beneath her, Star balked and refused to go any further. Anya knew it was useless, she could not force her horse, her horse had her own free will. She got off, dismounted, and continued on foot.

The feeling of dizziness grew as the scent on the wind became more putrid. It smelled vaguely of burning brimstone, and something else she still could not identify. She cupped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to filter the smell, and stumbled forwards to a cliff she spied nearby.

She knew this was in the realm of Clan territory to the south of the Zelandonii area, and she did not want to meet up with trouble, but what she found in the clearing next to the cliff shocked her and made her put aside all thoughts of possible confrontation.

Before her, sprawled inside and on the outside of a small cave in the cliffside, was a group of Clanspeople. Her violet-blue gaze widened in shock as she observed that none of them moved, and lay as if dead where they had collapsed.

Gripping her spear-thrower for protection, she advanced forwards. Nobody moved, but she did not want to be caught by surprise. The opinions of the Zelandonii towards the Clan had mellowed considerably since Ayla's arrival, that did not mean there was much contact between the two peoples, because there wasn't.

When she reached the first of the clan, a woman and a small child, she loosened her grip on her weapons to turn the still bodies gently over. Automatically, her fingers went to the woman's wrist, and Anya breathed a sigh of relief as she felt a weak, but steady pulse. However, the woman did not stir, and cautiosly, Anya moved on.

As she checked various members of this clan, she studied their features and frowned in puzzlement. Whoever this clan was, they had to be strangers from this reigon. Somehow, they seemed less....Clan than the Clan she knew lived in this reigon. Their foreheads did not jut so far backwards, their pulses were slower, the brow ridges just a fraction less prominent, and their skin a bit less dark in color. The signs spoke of a Clan used to warmer reigons, of the way her mother had described to her and she had seen a couple of times from a distance.

She blinked in surprise to come across a small group near the cave mouth. Grunting, she turned the man closest to her over, and swallowed her astonishment at his odd features. His forehead rose as high as her own, and he had a chin beneath the beard, it was obvious immediately to her.

*A man of mixed spirits!*

It was said that few of these children were accepted by Clansmen, they were seen as deformed and unlucky. Some children among the Others still had difficulty being accepted like this, either, she had heard. The woman next to the man also had obvious features of being of mixed spirits, and the group of young ones with them had to be their children, for they all shared these features.

It caused the mystery to deepen, and she shook her head in puzzlement. Rising, she was almost sent back flat on the ground by another wave of dizziness. Everyone was alive, but she was sure that this...whatever it was would soon claim her, too, if she stayed. It could kill them soon, if not by poison then by starvation and dehydration, for they would not awaken here.

The medicine woman in her took over, but she was unsure of how to proceed. Help was needed, and that was for sure. They would die here. And her wild tale would take some tall talking to convince her cave of Zelandonii to lend a hand. Her people might respect the Clan now, but there was doubts to be cast on the Clan's side, for they were certain to be suspicious upon awakening. The safety of the Zelandonii also had to be considered.

It could not hurt to try. Joharran, the leader of the Ninth Cave, was a mellow and just man, hopefully she could convince him to form a group to get these people out of here before some predator found them and decided to make a meal of them.

Closing her eyes, she clutched her amulet and prayed silently to Doni and Ursus for guidance in making this decision. She knew some unseen force had guided her here, it had to be for a reason. Suddenly waves of reassurance washed over her, and she knew that the plan of action that she had formulated would be the right one. She had been placed in this Clan's path as her mother had been once with her Clan. It was time to return the debt her mother owed the Clan for them saving her life as a girl, in full measure.

Quickly, she turned and stumbled out of the clearing back to her horse. Star needed no urging to turn and hightail it back to the Ninth Cave.

**** "You want to *WHAT*?" exclaimed Joharran in a voice loud enough to echo throughout the entire cave. "You are joking, right?"

"Truly, Joharran, do you think I would lie about something so important?" asked Anya impatiently. "Not with human lives on the line like this! They may be different than us, but I thought you are more just than that, Joharran."

"I know," the leader sighed. "Ayla proved that to us over and over again, with her knowldege of things we could not, and still cannot fathom. No wonder they call her the Mother incarnate. But you said there were at least forty of them, Anya. How could we carry so many....and where could we possibly place them? Our cave is huge, but it cannot shelter so many people for long."

"I think they should be brought to the cave and put on the little cave annex on west side of our Cave," said Anya practically. "It is still basically unused and it would frighten them less to wake up around their own kind. And the cave around the cliff bend is empty. If they need a place to stay for awhile, they can stay there. It's adequate."

"Clan and Others, as your mother puts it, I doubt have ever really lived so close before," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "I doubt if it could even work out, since they are so set in their ways and they treat their women like lowly subservient beings. But Ayla taught many in this cave to speak their silent language to some degree, and you are perfectly fluent. Perhaps some ground rules and comprimises can be made--if they don't panic."

"So you agree to try?"

"Since you insist your totem led you to them, and you are not one for lying, I know better than to invoke the wrath of the Mother and the spirits," he answered. "I will gather together the men and the horses. We have to throw together some travoises to get them and their things over here in one piece. I don't want to go back and any of us to succumb to what happened to them."

"If you gather their things, have the men only do it," Anya warned quickly. "I am a woman, and if a woman touches their sacred things, or their weapons, they believe that they will be doomed. Especially the things that belong to their Mog-Ur. If you lie to them about it, they will know. Trust me."

At this, Joharran nodded. Nobody ever got away with lying to either Ayla or her daughter, for the elder woman had taught Anya well how body language worked. If either group angered the spirits, he knew, it could spell doom for both peoples.

****

It took all avalible groups several trips by horse and by foot to haul all the unconscious Clan to the cave of the Zelandonii. These people may have been small, but Clan people were very stocky, with heavy muscles and bones.

Quickly, Anya caught sight of the red ochre and Cave Bear items that marked some of the things that would belong to Mog-Ur. She backed rapidly away and alerted Joharran. Even with her totem, she decided not to invoke the wrath of her guardian spirit. The holy relics of the Clan, especially those guarded by Mog-Ur, were too sacred for a woman's touch, according to Clan traidition.

"Who--is leader?" puffed Joharran as he tugged a burly man onto a travois. "I cannot tell."

"Considering his placement in the group, I'd say this one," Anya indicated a nearby, well-built man who appeared to be nearing middle-age. "But I cannot be for certain. Mother was clear on describing many aspects of Clan culture, she did not describe *everything*."

"Your mother is going to be shocked when she returns and finds them at the Cave," he asserted with a faint smile. "I don't want to bring back unplesant memories for her. You said yourself this Clan has to be from far away."

Anya nodded. "I think so. I wonder what they are doing here, it's not the year for a Clan gathering. The one they had a couple of years ago was intense, because the Host Clan was the one that lived closest to us. I wandered around too close by accident, and I thought they'd have a conniption to see a female wearing clothes like mine and carrying weapons and game. One of the few times I've seen them up close. For their women, hunting or touching weapons is forbidden."

"It is wrong," said Joharran with a sigh. "If they aren't scared to death to find themselves in a cave of the 'Others', we had better establish some ground rules. Our women will not be their subservient slaves as if they are lowly beings, nor submit to the 'signal' your mother described."

"That might be hard for them to accept," Anya warned him practically. "Change is very hard for them, and they are frightened of what they do not understand."

"Your mother certainly scared us riding up that first time on her horse Whinney," he answered, scratching his head. "We adapted. They'll just have to get used to it, if we can convince them they aren't dead."

****

It took three days before anybody awoke. During that time, Anya and Zelandoni worked hard over the prone forms of these strange, ugly-looking people. Zelandoni was worried that the herbal magic she knew would not work on people looking so different, with their overhanging eyebrow ridges, short stature, and chinless features.

"They're shorter than me," Anya murmured as she force-fed a young child. "How can these people be so small? I don't understand. They know herbs and eat better than even we do."

"They are also stockier and stronger," Zelandoni pointed out. "It is difficult for all that energy to go more than a couple of ways at once. Especially their poor women, and how they have to slave so much."

"It is their lifestyle," said Anya, sitting up and pushing her yellow curls out of her face. "Clan have always done so. Mother taught me their ways well."

Zelandoni did not pause, but studied the girl out of lowered lids. Anya was so much like her mother it astonished her. They had the same face, same body shape, similar talents. However, the girl's eyes were her father's, so deep a shade of blue they appeared violet in some lights. Her hair was yellow like both parents, but it was also very curly, and she was smallish in stature, both qualities unlike her parents. She had an...odd aura about her that Zelandoni found a bit disconcerning, perhaps it was due to the child's totem.

*Perhaps it is a good thing she is here. She is her mother's extension, hopefully she can prevent a riot. The Mother is wise.* Zelandoni mused as she bent her head over her work again.

****

After three days, everyone was still very much alive, and only then did Anya let herself relax a bit. She was certain they would awaken soon, all physical signs pointed to it, and she was glad these people seemed so healthy. Now, her next task, getting them to accept where they were and why they had come, would be more difficult.

Anya nearly choked on a yawn when she heard a muffled gasp of surprise. Just in time, she did not choke as she turned to see a man of the Clan, in perhaps his older middle age, looking at her with confused regard and shock. Though he tried to hide it, she could just read the undercurrents of fear and indecision in his posture.

Zelandoni was gone for the moment, and Anya almost bit her lip. How to proceed? She was a woman of the Others, surely he must think himself in the spirit world, to wake up in a cave of strange people....

Automatically, as he struggled to sit up, she seemed to move by some inner instinct as she approached him. He stiffened, then blinked in acute surprise as she gracefully lowered herself to a crosslegged position, bowing her head in the submissive posture her mother had taught her was the appropriate way for a woman to ask a man of the Clan for permission to speak.

Long seconds passed as she sensed his intense regard. Something about her frightened him and yet greatly intruiged him in a way she could not define, and she was certain it had nothing to do with the fact she was a woman of the Others. It was something else....

The tension grew as the moments passed, and just before she would have looked up in defeat, she felt a gentle, but firm tap on her shoulder. She looked up, her violet eyes meeting his just fleetingly before looking off to his shoulder in an appropriate Clan response.

He was studying her. She forced herself not to wince as he reached out and touched her chin, turning her face this angle and that, studying her delicately chisled features and forcing her violet gaze to his, so her strangely-colored eyes met his earth-colored ones in long moments of silent regard, something in his posture indicating he could not believe his eyes. It was only when he noted the curliness of her hair and the shade of her eyes did he sigh, lower his hand from her face, and begin to flash any hand signals at all.

"Woman." The gestures were sharp, terse, wanting of an explanation. "Is this man in the spirit world? Or is he in a place of demons that a woman of the Others would be at his side upon awakening?"

She gestured permission to speak, and he grunted. She took a deep breath and began in the ancient, formal sign language all Clan knew.

"This man is not in a world of the spirits. He is very much alive. This woman found his group of Clan unconscious outside a small Cave. She got her group of others to come get you before you all died. This woman has been helping to care for you all for three days since."

She sensed he was one to grasp a situation readily, and she felt him studying her body posture tersely to detect any untruths. He could see none, and he knew then she spoke the truth. He would have known if she had lied. Any Clan person would have known.

"The smell came, and we all blacked out..." he began, then straightened. "How does this woman of the Others know the language of the Clan? How do you know our customs?"

Anya did bite her lip this time, but decided not to hide the basic truth from him. "This woman's mother was raised by a Clan. When she became a woman, she left for her own kind. She and her mate live here, and she taught this daughter the ways of both the Others and the Clan. She is a Medicine woman, and this woman is also a Medicine woman."

Anya was not unaware of his surprised grunt, and her eyes met his fleetingly, just in time to see a look of softness pass behind them, as if a memory long gone had been resurfaced.

His gaze towards hers had lost some of it's hostility. "This man has....heard of it happening," he amended, the edge leaving his gestures. "Where is...this man now?"

She realized he was uncertain of her power, because this was a cave of the Others, and he had no idea what they could do.

"This man is in a cave of the Others. We call ourselves the Zel-An-Don-ee," she exaggerated the sounds so he could make some sense of a language that was almost entirely spoken.

"This woman knows it is not the custom of the Clan for a woman to ask a man his name in such a fashion, but this woman would request it," she gestured with as much politeness as she could muster.

He nodded. Of course, not all their customs could be completely alike. He knew his people owed these people a kinship debt so heavy for their rescue, it could never be repaid. Especially this medicine woman of the Others, who had been central in saving their lives.

"This man is called Brun," the word was a clipped grunt. Anya blinked, for somehow, the sound seemed awfully familiar to one her mother had often used in describing a fomer Clan leader....

Anya was glad, also, that she could duplicate her mother's unique accent to a fine degree, although it was not an affliction like the one her mother would always have. She *could* speak normally.

"B-Brun," she mimicked exactly. His nod of assent told her she had gotten it right.

Her turn. "This woman is called," she tapped her chest. "Anya." Wisely, she left out the rest of the formal title, she knew he would not comprehend it in the least--it would be just a jumble of unintelligible sounds.

And so the struggle started. After a few approxomations, he managed to get from "A-a" to An--ya."

It was the closest he could come up with, at least her name was easier on him than her mother's had been, she thought. Ayla had told her that after years of practice, some of the Clan she had grown up with still could not pronounce it right. His pronunciation of her name would never flow together properly, she knew, but at least he had the syllables right.

A Clan baby started to sniffle and wail softly, and Anya made a gesture of request to leave his side for a moment. He aquiesced, and as she stood, he was relieved to see the familiar sight of an otter-skin pouch that would contain her healing herbs, which seemed in stark contrast to her strange clothing, made of leather but cut in some strange fashion. However, he blinked in surprise when he saw the obvious Clan-style amulet she wore around her neck. He did not know any of the Others wore Clan totems.

His eyes took in everything as she quietly went over to the baby. Like a certain woman of the Others he had once known, she was taller than any of them, although much smaller than the other woman had been. He had been shocked to see somebody with Ayla's face looking at him as he awoke, but it was obivious this woman was not her. She was too small, too young, and the eyes and hair did not quite match what he recalled with painful accuracy.

He shook his head. No, it was too big of a chance that this woman would have any blood ties to Ayla, even for the spirits. It was too far away. And Ayla was long dead, cursed. Still, her knowledge of Clan ways and her looks still mystified him.

Damn his son, Broud, for banishing Ayla those years ago, after they had lost their home! Since then, the search had continued over the years, as they gradually traveled westward. The spirits had all but abandoned them. Remarkably few died, but he understood they were being punished. The spirits were making them wander as Broud had forced Ayla to wander, except that they were still alive and Ayla was dead. The Clans around here had told him that, westwards of here, there was a large sea. If they did not find a home by the time they reached the sea, he was certain it would be a sign of the spirits that they were further doomed.

One of the few things that had come out of this whole mess was the fact that headstrong, impulsive Broud had actually learned. It had taken him years to mellow out and admit his horrible mistake, but by then it was far too late. Almost too late for them, he had learned an invaluable lesson about temper control and making sound decisions for his group of Clan. And all his efforts were now devoted to keeping the Clan alive, he had little room for childish, impulsive temper tantrums. It was one of the few things Brun had to be grateful for.

Anya was just brushing off her hands when a small sound of footsteps alerted her that someone else was entering the cave annex. She stood as a tall, stately older woman and a middle-aged man, Zelandoni and Joharran. Anya made a quick gesture behind her back to Brun not to be alarmed as she went up to the newcomers.

Brun again felt surprise when Anya went up to the man, and without even bothering to use the formal posture for a requested audience with a man, looked him fully in the eyes and began to make many strange, muttering sounds, with only a few basic gestures for emphasis.

He frowned. Were they talking? He remembered when Ayla came, all she did was make sounds until she comprehended that Clan spoke with gestures, only words used for emphasis. So it was true, then, that the others spoke mostly with their mouths, not their hands. It was so strange, an unintelligible sound he could not fully comprehend, like water pouring into a stream.

"One of them is awake," Anya whispered to her companions. "His name is Brun. I managed to calm him down quickly, but he is very uneasy at finding himself and his people in this place. Perhaps you should speak with him, Joharran. You are male, and he would no doubt hold you in much higher regard since you are the leader of our Cave. As for you, Zelandoni.....It would be almost impossible for him to accept your type of position. To him, upon explanation, you would be a sort of female Mog-Ur. They do not have those, and you might seem a danger to him unless he accepts the idea quickly, which is difficult for them to do. Women are not allowed into their religious life unless it is absolutely necessary."

Zelandoni frowned at this prospect, but nodded.

"You want me to talk to him without complete translation?" Asked Joharran, rubbing his unbeareded chin. It was spring, and he had shaved his beard only recently. "I can speak their ancient language to a degree, Anya, but you are the fluent one around here. I might need your help."

"I will stay in the room," she conceded. "However, the conversation you two would no doubt have will be one between males of high rank--for I am certain he is of high rank--, and I am but a woman to him, even if I am Medicine Woman, a Zelandoni myself. Be careful in what you say."

Brun watched as Anya led Joharran to Brun's pallet, the leader of the Others knelt and made the gesture of request, for a man requesting to speak to another man. It was accepted with mild surprise from the normally stotic Brun, and the two men began a slightly halted conversation.

Anya busied herself with other patients, but stayed nearby. She was concerned, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched unobtrusively as Brun said that his Clan had been homeless for many years and were from far to the east; they were in search of a home that Ursus would approve of for them. He did not say why, but Anya read his subtle body posture, she knew he was fearing of the spirits at present. She did not know why they had been evicted of their former home, and if they were searching for another, they also had to be searching for a place the spirits would favor, instead of having to live off the charity of other Clan year to year.

"Anya." The girl started. Joharran was beckoning to her. "I would ask that you help translate, for I am going to have to speak with this man on certain terms, and I don't want an accidental misunderstanding because I am not completely fluent."

"I will," Anya said and gestured at the same time, "If the man agrees."

Brun aquiesced, and knelt before the man in a submissive gesture as custom would dictate, ignoring Joharran's frown.

"Around the bend of these cliffs," she translated Joharran's words, "Is a fairly large, adequate cave. There is water nearby, excellent hunting, and the cave is unused. If you need a place to stay until next spring, at least to recuperate, you are free to use it."

She saw Brun blink in surprise. "Why would you offer such?" he queried in absolute astonishment. "I am Clan, you are Others. We do not associate."

"Years ago, we used to think your people as inhumane," conceded Joharran carefully, and Anya translated with full range of subleties. "Because you were different. Then a woman came to us, with one of our people. She was from far to the east, and had been rasied by your people. She taught this group that your people were indeed human, were not animals as previously thought. Anya here is her daughter."

Brun looked thoughtful. Far to the east? And the way Anya looked....absolutely not. It was impossible.

"Why did the woman leave her Clan, if she was accepted?" he asked. "She would have been but a woman. She should have been mated, protected."

"She left to find her own mate," Anya interjected without permission, not caring that it was against custom. She was not going to tell this group of Clan her mother had been death-cursed. So she did not lie, but omitted several detials on the truth.

Brun could tell she was hiding something, but he did not press. Women, medicine women especially, had their own secrets, and he could not directly ask without reason.

"There are other groups of..your people around here?" he gesticulated. "Would they not think differently?"

Joharran sighed. "A few might not like the idea, but there should be no trouble. This woman's mother had her legacy and ideas spread far and wide, especially when it was seen what magic she could perform, magic indigeous to your people but new to us."

"Any real decisions about this matter would have to be taken up with the son of my mate," Brun gestured. "Broud is leader of this group of Clan."

Anya's hands dropped in shocked surprise at the name. Broud? Brun? Son of his mate? This was beginning to sound like more than coincidence.....

She saw Joharran blink, too, she was certain he recognized the name.

"Broud?" he questioned. "Your leader's name is...Broud?"

There was an affirmative response from Brun.

"You are from far to the west?" Anya questioned hesistantly, again without permission from Brun to speak to him. "From how far....to the east?"

He eyed her, then decided it could to no harm to tell this woman. "For us, many year's travel," he gestured, a bit defensively. "Our home before then was on a peninsula. But many years ago, it was destroyed when the spirits shook the earth. Since then, the spirits have been very distant to us, have kept us on the move, just as...."

He stopped. He could not let this woman know of a man's weaknesses, especially the weakness of the son of his mate. His sense of pride in that area was too strong.

Anya went white, deadly white. "Your....Mog-Ur at the time.....did he have one eye?"

Brun stared at her. It was all coming in too clearly. Surely this had to be some trick of the spirits, or some test, that would throw this into his path. "He did," he gestured at last. "Mog-Ur One Eye....Creb."

"He had a sibling...a woman of an unbroken, distinguished line of medicine women?"

There was an affirmative answer.

"You have a man in your midst, of mixed spirits....is he Durc?"

"Why do you ask all this?" he gestured in acute fear of the spirits, and wondering if the spirit of Ayla was somehow coming to avenge her death in more real terms. "How do you know of Durc, of my Clan? Who told you?"

"What happened to Durc's mother?" Anya had to confirm this. It was impossible, it had to be, and yet she knew it was very real that the same Clan that had raised her mother, the leader that had led to her banishment, the Clan her mother had loved, was right here, in this Cave of the Zelandoni.

"She is dead," he gestured, clipped. "Cursed. Gone."

Anya glanced at Joharran, who was similarly pale. "I should tell him the truth of mother," she whispered to him. "To him, and anyone else Clan, Ayla is dead and will still be should they see her again. But I am alive to them, I have no reason to be dead."

"Her spirit left then, after the curse?"

Brun nodded. "I did not wish it as such, but it was my son's decision."

Anya sighed. *Here goes.* "Many years ago, my mother came to the land of the Zelandoni with the man she was going to mate, a man named Jondalar. I was born in their union, the daughter of his Hearth. She taught me the ways of your people, but she was forced to leave her Clan not only to find her own mate, but because she was cursed with death."

He looked shocked. The spirits were coming, rushing back, echoing throughout the years. "Death-cursed?" he gestured. "Then am I truly in the next world? A spirit cannot have further children, at least, it is not known."

"To Clan, she might be dead. To the Others, she remained very much alive." Anya gestured the sealing question. "What...was the woman's name?"

His eyes clouded over as he made one short, simple gesture, said one short, simple word. "Her name was Ayla."

**** Anya felt dizzy. Tears sheened in the back of her eyes, but he had to know the truth, she sensed it was for both their sakes that she continued. "Mother never forgot your kind," she gestured, her hands trembling with emotion. Hang control, she was too upset. "The woman you knew as Ayla was my mother, Brun. She is alive, very much alive."

His astonishment could not have been greater. "Ayla is dead!" he exclaimed. "She was death-cursed, her spirit left. I even promised her spirit to raise her son, to train Durc as if he were the son of my own mate. She disappeared. We never saw her again."

"Ayla is a spirit to you," Anya conceded. "But she is alive to us, Brun. From what I know, she left the peninsula on foot after she was cursed. She swore never to give up, even telling Broud he could not make her die. She made her way to a small, secluded valley and lived there for three years in isolation, until she found Jondalar. He had been mauled by a Cave Lion, marked and claimed for his totem, now also. She nursed him back to health, they fell in love. They left the valley after she had healed him, lived with a nearby people called the Mamutoi that winter. The Mamutoi accepted Ayla as one of them, she became a high-ranking woman, the daughter of the Holy Man of their group. The following summer, she and Jondalar left, and after a year, they came to this land, the land of Jondalar's people. Jondalar is of the Zelandonii. Ayla was pregnant when she arrived, she was accepted by them and was mated to Jondalar the very summer. I was born a few months later. She has been happy here." She drew a deep breath. "When I discovered your group of Clan, the spirits guided me to you, I know that now. I wondered why, now I have some idea that it is to help repay the debt she owed you for saving her life as a girl."

Brun felt choked. His chest was tight with a mixture of fear and disbelief as he stared at the young woman in front of him, staring defiantly into his eyes, daring him to prove her wrong. There was absolutely no untruth in her posture or body language, she radiated truth and determination from every pore. And she had to be a daughter of Ayla, she looked almost exactly like the woman he remembered. This was hardly a spirit trick, suddenly he felt as if he had been guided here.

"Why have the sprits chosen to do this?" Brun wondered. "Spirts! I don't understand spirits! Were we led here so Ayla's spirit could seek revenge on us?"

Anya shook her head. "No. She has no idea you are here. She and Jondalar are visitng the father of Jondalar's hearth, a group called the Lazandonii. Her 'spirit' is going to be shocked beyond measure to see you here. She will be glad to see her son again, she will not be happy to see Broud, nor to be 'seen' by you all, an ignored spirit."

"Perhaps, when we awaken, we should just leave," Brun gestured. "To us, Anya, by law Ayla is dead. She walks in the spirit world, even if it is on this plain of existence."

"I am no spirit," Anya gestured in a clipped fashion. "I was not formally cursed by Goov. I am not even Clan. Ayla is Clan at heart still, she will never change in that respect. But if Broud is still your leader....I don't want troubles between our peoples. I do know he was cruel to her."

"Broud has mellowed," Brun gestured quickly, wondering just how much she knew about the weaknesses of the son of his mate. "What I am about to say to you, Anya, daughter of Ayla, I would never have told a woman in any other circumstances. But for the memory of Ayla, which I respect, I will tell you this: Broud is no longer the spoiled young man he was. It took him years, but he has changed, admitted to his mistake, if not openly in front of the whole Clan, then at least informally. I don't know if he would still hate Ayla or not, but he has told me if he could change the course of time, he never would have banished Ayla if he had known what it would cause, how it would anger the spirits so."

"Can you undo the curse?" was Anya's hopeful query. "Was there ever a formal 'forever' time limit placed upon the duration of the curse?"

Brun tried to remember. "No. Everything was in such confusion, it was never mentioned. Goov just cursed her. That was all. But....I don't think anything like this has ever happened before. Nobody has ever come back from the dead after so long. If I saw Ayla's spirit now, I would be forced to not acknowledge her, Anya, it is how we are. She is dead to us, if alive to you. It is the way things have always been."

"I thought that is how you would think," Anya gestured slowly. "Remember that the Others are not spirits, Brun. We are very different from you, but we are not spirits, Ayla is not a spirit to us. She has had a few run-ins with Clans of this reigon, they saw her plain as day--but she did not tell them she was under a curse. They still don't know, for she refrained from mentioning it. They are no worse for the wear, she had even saved the lives of a couple of them."

His eyes widened fractionally. Of course not, if a person of any Clan did not know a person was cursed, a spirit, how could they readily tell the difference? And spirits did not usually have children, mate with a mortal man.

He almost sighed as she got up quietly, not bothering to ask permission. It irked him slightly in the sense that this was inappropriate behaivor for a woman, but he tried to keep in mind that she was of the Others, perhaps their customs were different as well as their appearance and their language.

He had little idea, yet, as of how different.

****

Shortly thereafter, other Clan members started to wake up, albeit groggily. Especially the women and children were frightened to find themselves in such a strange place, and Anya and Brun, when he was able, had to reassure them they were all right. He tried to put aside the fact, for now, the huge spiritual debt his Clan now owed the Others, it was something that could be dealt with later. The safety and security of his Clan came first. His next real problem was convincing the son of his mate to make the right decisions.

He saw remarkably few of the Others that inhabited the Cave, as medicine woman, Anya did not want him up and about, and also she was concerned as to the cultural shock he and his kind might encounter with her people, so she warned the inhabitants of the ninth cave from entering the annex without permission.

Joharran had already made it clear to him that there were indeed numerous differences, and that if he saw their people doing anything that was un-clanlike, it was the way of the Others, and not to be worried about or hindered upon.

Perhaps one of the bigger shocks to the awakening Clan was the quiet comings-and-goings of Zelandoni. Anya found herself with the difficult task of explaining exactly who she was to Brun.

"There is no specific word or gesture for who she is in your language," she began when seated beside Brun, who was watching Zelandoni leave with a shade of puzzlement in his eyes. "I expect the closest term would be a female Mog-Ur--a holy woman."

The shock in the eyes of the usually-stotic man was obvious. "Women cannot control the spirits."

"In the world of the Others, the spirits is a woman's domain as dicated by our Earth Mother, Doni. They are the ones in greatest contact with the spirits, they give birth to life, and are the greatest sources of magic. Men may assist, and even become male Zelandoni, but the central power lies with the women. Men have to be assisted when they enter the spirit world, women know it instinctively."

"How can this be?" he asked, shocked and barely comprehending this. "If a man does not absolutely dominate a woman, her magic will get out of control and upset a critical balance, destroy the Clan. It must be mantained that a woman not realize her full potential."

"I rather think that the destiny of a woman of the Others is different from the destiny of the Clan women," she said. "We have done this for generations without ill effect. What Joharran wants is that you not interfere with our way of life--and we won't interfere with yours."

"If our two peoples are ever to get along," he conceded, "I can see that comprimise is necessary."

He saw her absently clutch her amulet as she considered his gestures, and he wondered suddenly at her reason for wearing it. "Why does the woman wear an amulet meant for a Clan totem?"

"Because I have a Clan guardian spirit." Anya was suddenly troubled. Women of the Clan definetly did *not* ever have the totem of Ursus, except in a collective fashion that included all Clan, and yet she had it. "Our Holy Woman decreed it so. Her word often has the force of law around here."

"Do all members of the Others have totems?"

"Not all. Momma is still protected and guided by the Cave Lion, and Jondalar was marked by him, too, so he rightfully claims the cat as his totem spirit. So his totem was able to defeat hers, and I was born. He is the father of my spirit, I have his eyes. Dasian has the Ibex for a totem, and there are a few others. But only if there is a reason, a special revalation, or something of that nature, that allows a person to claim an animal spirit as his totem. Zelandoni said mine was definetly Clan, the spirits told her so--and the actions surrounding my testing by my spirit in the first place testified to it."

He saw her hesistate, and saw fear behind her eyes. "What is your totem?"

She drew a deep breath. "You are not going to like what I have to tell you." She stretched out her arm, and he clearly saw the mauling scratches he had noticed before, but had not seen close enough to identify the clawings. Now, he saw them clearly, and he saw her grip her amulet again as he identified the marks.

Though it stunned him, the look in her eyes left no doubt. "Ursus," she whispered. "My totem is Ursus."

"Women--women cannot have the bear for a totem," he was suddenly afraid of her. "It is forbidden by Ursus himself for a Clan woman to bear the totem of the bear."

"I was marked," she signed firmly. "I survived the Cave Bear's maulings before she died. Zelandoni sensed the reason I was marked in such a fashion. No one questions her decrees, and Urusus has guided me many times since then. I sense his presence, and he tests and protects me."

Brun shook his head in confusion, knowing that the spirits were forcing him to make a sharp turn, against the unchanging ways of his Clan, a painful change. He had no choice but to accept what the girl said. Perhaps it was the Holy Woman's mistaken decree. But then, how many men got close to a Cave Bear and survived? Much less with a few scratches that healed completely, without ill effect? The marks for a Mog-Ur Acolyte were painted in a similar fashion at his acolyte initiation, on the opposite arm--again, like Ayla, who had been marked in such a clear fashion by a Cave Lion.

*Spirits. I will never understand them.*

****

Broud could not still his shock when he awoke groggily and saw a strange vision sitting beside him, watching it intently. He wondered if he was dead as he sat up suddenly at the sight of what appeared to be someone from long ago.

"Ayla!" It was an outright gasp as his hands flew. "What sort of spirit trickery is this?!"

The large blue-violet eyes did not even blink as she stared at him intently. "I am not Ayla." It was signed, and he was shocked to see this woman of the Others speak his language with complete fluency. "The woman you called Ayla is my mother, Broud. I know who you are."

Anya stifled her initial impulse of anger towards this man who had treated her mother with such cruelty. She lowered herself into a crosslegged position, bowing her head in a request for permission to speak. After a pause, it was given, especially after Broud saw Brun gesture at him to listen to what she had to say.

"This man is not in the spirit world, Broud, leader of the Clan," she gestured, clipped, and he sensed underlying discomfort, dislike. "You are in a cave of the others. Days ago, this woman found your whole group unconscious, because of some strange spirit magic that made you all black out. This woman had my people bring you here so we could heal you. This man is very much alive."

"How does this woman know our language?" he gestured, disgruntled, and half afraid, though he would not admit it. Was Ayla's spirit plotting some last, dire revenge on him for his youthful implusiveness?

Anya did not bother to circumvent the truth, or beat around the bush this time. "This woman's mother was raised by the Clan. Your Clan, Broud. Ayla is my mother."

Now Broud might have mellowed out over the years, becoming a lot calmer and understanding what a leader's true duties were, but he still did have the Wooly Rhinocerous as his totem. The appearance of this strange woman cut right through the years, and had it not been for the stotic control he had managed to gain over the years, he would have reacted with pure impulse.

Still, he breathed hard as he tried to formulate the right words. "Ayla is dead, a spirit. Spirits do not usually have children that appear far from the place the person died."

"To you, Ayla is dead," Anya gestured simply. "To our group, the Zelandonii, she is very much alive. She is mated, I am her daughter, and a Medicine Woman for the Zelandonii."

Brun decided to intervene quickly, before Broud's emotional impulsiveness took over, which it was in danger of doing. "She tells the truth," he gestured rapidly and firmly. "The spirit Ayla has lived with the Others for many years now. They don't see her as a spirit, how many mortal men can mate with one, produce a child to his hearth? Her spirit did not depart for the next world, Broud, though it did move onwards. The living proof is right in front of you."

Broud calmed down, barely. Brun was right, he usually was. He dropped his hands for a moment and studied the young woman again, her head was bowed and she was sitting quietly beside him, like a proper Clan woman. But she was of the Others, not a person of mixed spirits like her first child had been.

Quickly, Brun explained what he could, and told him of Joharran's offer of shelter in the nearby Cave.

"We are among the Others, but it seem's Ayla's spirit has been busy," he motioned. "These Others respect the people of the Clan. And they do want peace. We need a home, Broud. I know you do not like having to shelter our people in this inadequate cave or sharing it with that Clan year after year. The Cave is in the territory of the Others, but Joharran did say it did not formally belong to anybody. If we want to take it, we are free to do so."

Broud rubbed his beard in thought. What was Ursus, the spirits, up to? The sudden offer of a home was tempting, but among the Others? A people whose ways were completely alien to his own people's? A people who had spawned what he had one hated so--a woman named Ayla?

*For years, the spirits have punished you and your group,* he reminded himself. *Perhaps, by placing you with the group of Others that shelters Ayla's spirit, and that of her family, you are being given a chance to redeem that which you so wrongfully done.*

But the suddeness of it all was very shocking, and it went against everything he had been taught. If it was a further spirit trick, he did not want to fall victim to it.

Suddenly, he remembered Goov. The Mog-Ur, trained by the great Creb himself. He was still unconscious, but when he awoke, he would ask his Mog-Ur's advice. The younger Mog-Ur had been trained well by the masters of all Mog-Urs, perhaps he could give the best answer, although the final decision rested soley with Broud.

*I thought I would never admit this, even to myself, but at times, I am tired of leading.*

"There is one more factor you should consider," Brun decided to out with this information quickly, so Broud could accept it without much fuss. "Anya is guarded by the spirit of the Cave Bear. I would not advise making the spirits that protect her angry."

All traces of stoticism left Broud's face, and he stared openmouthed at Anya, who was sitting quietly nearby, working over a patient but clearly observing through lowered lids. Her scars were visible, as the Clan amulet around her neck. Especially the Cave Bear scars mocked him threateningly, daring him to disobey the will of the spirits.

****

Anya had also spent long periods of time nearby the prone form of the brother she had often thought about, but had been certain she would never see. She had studied his features, he was a full-grown man, and she was sure that the woman beside him was Ura, his mate. Brun confirmed this, telling her that Durc, although he was not quite as strong as the other men, was still the best hunter with all weapons, including and especially the sling, because he had his mother's build, thin, dextrous bones unlike the stocky bones of the clan, which made him the swiftest runner by far, and a dextrous, limber ability that had served the Clan well on hunting expeditions.

"Does he remember Mother?" asked Anya softly as she stared at her brother. Durc still made no signs of awakening, although his mate had by then, and one of the children.

"He does," gestured Brun. "Not completely, Anya, but he rememberes the woman with yellow hair that he worshipped when he was a baby. Although he remembers the circumstances of her being cursed, he still misses her, though he would not admit it with just anybody."

Anya nodded as she returned her gaze to her brother. Under his beard, she could tell he had a chin, and his forehead did indeed rise up like hers, although his other Clan features were quite evident--the prominent brows, the skin, and she remembered her mother telling her that his eyes were the deep brown eyes of the Clan.

"He is the tallest of us, by far," gestured Brun. "Not as tall as Ayla had become, but about your height, I'd say, Anya."

Anya nodded. Her first impressions of the Clan were good ones, but she knew that it was because they were in awe of her and were in a cave of the Others, not in their own domain, that they were behaving as they were. She liked Brun, was fairly comfortable with him, but she knew that he was still a Clan man. He did not bark at her to obey him, get him this or that, but he did seem to expect her to do a lot of the work that needed to be done. Some of the women, who were starting to get up and about--albeit weakly--he commanded sharply, without thought.

However, Brun had noticed that Anya never jumped to do Joharran's bidding, or any of the other few men that ventured into the annex. She looked them in the eyes, and there was nothing really formal about it. In fact, it seemed the opposite--the men treated her with much respect, and if she seemed to request something, they got it.

Durc was much surprised, as they all had been, when he awoke to see a strange woman watching him intently. When he learned who she was, he did not have a very visible reaction, but Anya could tell, by a few shades of meaning in his posture, that his emotions were a mixture of pleasure, awe, and sadness. And she could not fault him.

"I had always wondered about my sibling," she signed to him at one point. "Now I am glad to know he turned out to be so successful."

Broud had decided to check out the nearby unoccupied Cave, but that was not his topmost worry. He was concerned about the heavy debt he owed to Anya, the whole group owed to her, which was even more so because of the totemic spirit that protected her.

And she had no mate, she frankely told him so. He could understand why, to his eyes, accostomed to seeing only those of his own kind, she was incredibly ugly. So her mate could not take the debt for her. And she was medicine woman, she owned a piece of all their spirits.

"According to our customs, you should not have to owe me anything," she gestured, "But if you feel that you must reciprocate in some fashion, is it possible--at all--to lift the curse from my mother's head? Imagine what this is going to do to her when she returns and finds you here, and knows that none of you will see her!"

"We cannot have her spirit upset all over again," said Brun, who supported the idea. "If Ayla commited any crime, her debt has long been since paid. Goov, what do you think?"

"After such a long period of time?" The Mog-Ur gestured. "Its--its almost never been done, but it does not go against Clan ways. There was no time limit placed upon the curse, nor was there a decree that it had to be forever. I can reset the bones, then break the curse--perhaps the spirits will be appeased at last."

"The spirit of Ursus guided me to you," Anya reminded Broud. "I knew it was for more than one reason. If he wants you to live with us, then you and Ayla must make peace. The first step should be removing the curse so she can be seen by you all when she returns with Jondalar."

Broud sighed, and stared at the wall for many long moments. Ayla, his hated enemy. It had seemed gratifying when he had first cursed her, seen her spirit leave, never to return. But when reality settled in, and he realized that, after many long treks westwards out of the peninsula, they were not finding a home and the spirits kept their distance, that Ayla's Cave Lion totem, perhaps Ayla herself, was extracting a terrible revenge.

Year after year, they had had to live on the charity of other Clans, or spend bitterly cold winters in pitifully inadequate caves. He had wondered why few died, Goov had bluntly told him it was because the spirits were so unhappy with them he was keeping them all alive just to suffer.

After years, he had finally admitted his mistake. When Durc was old enough, they had gone to pick up Ura. She had become Durc's mate, they had fallen in love, which was a good thing, considering it all. When Ura had "deformed" children with high foreheads and Clan characteristics, he held his tongue and allowed them to live, any way at all to appease Ayla's vengeful spirit, and wanting to turn back time to correct his mistake, but knowing he could not. It had, in a very short while, turned him into a fairly capeable leader, if a leader of a continuously homeless band.

Now he was being given the chance he had long sought. Should he take it? See Ayla again after so many years? Would she still be Clan, even after having been adopted by others?

Once Clan, always Clan, was the saying. She would still be Clan, and he had to admit to himself he no longer hated her with the youthful, vengeful fervor he had once felt. It had long since faded, though no doubt he would fear her for the rest of his days.

And with her daughter guided by Ursus, he had to get back in favor with the Clan's protecting spirit.

"Remove the curse, Goov," he signed tiredly to the Mog-Ur. "It is time the ancient ways were put to the use they were meant to be, so the future and the past can get back into the harmony that the ways used to be."

He was somehow unsurprised to see Goov go to attend the task almost eagerly, and he disappeared behind a partition he had erected himself temporarily for such secret tasks that acolytes did.

When he reappeared a few minutes later, and pronounced the deed done, for the first time, Anya lost her composure. Her head slumped, her long golden curls hiding her face. When she lifted them, Brun was startled to see her face wet. Her eyes watered! He had wondered at this affliction Ayla had--perhaps the eyes of all the Others watered.

He was certain that, if he could do that himself, he would have, his relief was so great.

****

Joharran volunteered to show the Clan the nearby, unoccupied cave that nobody had laid a claim to, after the Clan had sufficent strength regained from their ordeal. It was around the cliff bends, and was near the Southwestern border of Zelandonii territory. For the sake of the fact Anya always had the spirit of Ursus with her, he had the girl come along with them.

However, Anya, deferring to the customs of the Clan, stayed with the women as Joharran and Broud led a group of hunters into the cave.

Anya settled in beside Uba, Ayla's "sister". Anya liked her "Aunt" at once, and as the two women fell to sorting herbs in companionship, Anya watched as Uba's youngest child, a girl, toddled around happily under her mother's watchful gaze. Vorn, who had stayed with the group, watched approvingly from a distance.

"You are so old," said Uba at one point. "Anya, you are clearly a woman. Why don't you have a mate? To us, you might look ugly like your mother, but surely among your own kind, you are not."

Anya shrugged. "I don't know, I guess not, I suppose. I don't pay much attention. Girls who reach womanhood have their Womanhood rights in the summer, I had mine five years ago. Since then, I don't pay much attention to men except at Mother festivals, and not always then, either."

"Your leader, Yo-r-an has not chosen a mate for you?"

Anya blinked, then rememberd how the woman might think. "No. Among the Others, Uba, a woman chooses her own mate. A mother might try to arrange a match, but nothing is done without the woman's consent. She cannot be forced into a mating she does not want."

"I was not asked, but why should I expect to be? That is a leader's decision, and Vorn is a very good mate for me." Uba seemed confused by the concept of choosing one's own mate.

"If it works for your kind, then that is fine," Anya conceded. "It is just different for us, that is all. Just like your 'signal'--it does not exist with us, not like that. It took my mother a long time to learn this, that she has the right to refuse a man if she does not want to do anything of that nature. To force a woman among us is absolutely forbidden, and can result in severe punishment for the man involved."

Uba looked shocked, totally horrified. "A woman cannot refuse a man this! It's his basic right to use her body any way he pleases! It would anger the spirits for me to refuse any man my body for any reason, other than when my totem is battling."

"Again, it is a cultural difference," Anya explained. "Joharran has forbidden us to interfere with your way of life, Uba, but he also says that he does not want your men to react if one of us does something that is strange to them. If a man forces a woman against her will, he is either banished, forced to pay a heavy fine, or--" She made a gesture that was unmistakably saying what exactly would be done to the man if that particular method of punishment was given. Uba looked horrified, and declined to say anything further.

A fluttering call from the sky drew her attention, and Anya looked up to see a flock of ptarmigan flying overhead. Inadvertently, her mouth watered. She had not had the birds since the day she had found the Clan over seven days before. Uncaring of who might be watching, she pulled out her sling and whipped a hail of stones at the flock, so three fell to the ground nearby.

She ignored, for the moment, the fact that all activity stopped, and absolutely everybody within eyeshot turned to stare at her. Nonchalantly, she picked up the birds and returned to Uba's side, noting the woman's horrified glance.

"A weapon!" Uba exclaimed in acute fear. "Anya, you used a weapon!!"

Vorn was hurrying over, his face serious. He had just witnessed a major crime, and if he had to, he would apprehend the woman responsible.

She held up a hand to stop Vorn before he even touched her. "Before you do anything, I should tell you this is something you are going to see quite often. Zelandonii women are permitted to hunt."

He stopped short, truly shocked. "They are *What*?!" the word was spoken, an exclamation of astonishment. "Women cannot hunt. Even your own mother had to suffer dearly before she was allowed to hunt for the sake of appeasing her totem. It is against the will of the spirits."

"And who do you think my totem is, Vorn? Wouldn't I certainly be dead by now if Ursus was displeased by my hunting? Nearly every woman around here has or does hunt, unless they are caring for young children. Many of the women are better hunters and trackers than the men."

She had a point. Reluctantly, he backed down, not wanting to anger Ursus. Maybe it was because women of the Others are so different that they are permitted to hunt. He decided to leave the matter to Broud and Joharran.

In the meantime, it was quite a while before the party of hunters emerged from the Cave, victorious. Not even the Zelandonii had completely searched the large cave, and they had wandered rather far into the recesses of the Cave. In the very back, Goov had made the best discovery possible--the bones of a Cave Bear that had hibernated there many years before. It was the best of signs, and Broud suddenly felt relieved, hoping against all hopes that their most pressing problems were solved at last.

So when they emerged, bearing the skull of the Cave Bear with them, he was all too happy to make the signal that their search was over, they had found a new home--at least for now.

****

The Cave Adoption ceremony was set for a few days hence. In the meantime, the Clan would still continue to stay in the annex until they had formally adopted the Cave for their own use.

Shyly at first, but then with greater confidence, the two peoples started to mix a bit, to socialize, despite their differences. Each group of people had to face the fact they were going to have to do some comprimising, and accept the other's strange social customs, if they were ever to get along, but with typical unswerving Clan dedication, and the willingness of the Ninth Cave, they managed.

The very next morning, Anya was on a hillside when she spied something in the distance approaching. Squinting, she peered, looking as hard as she could. It was a string of horses, bearing five people with them!

"Jo-harr-aaannnn!!!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs to her leader, who was discussing the upcoming adoption ceremony with Broud and Brun. "It's Momma and Jondalar! They are coming back--and they are bringing visitors!"

Joharran readily translated this to his astonished companions before shouting back, "Who are the visitors? Can you see them?"

"Yes!" she called back and signaled this time. "It is Echozar! And the oldest two children of his hearth!"

"Go out to meet them!" Joharran hollered up to her. "You might as well tell your mother before they even come! She's going to be shocked enough as it is!"

Anya nodded obediently, eager to see her mother again. Durc, who had seen the signed conversation from a distance, unable to help himself, followed Anya from afar, anxious to see the sight of the golden-haird goddess he had once adored and had never fully forgotten.

"Mother! Jondalar!" Anya cried, racing out to meet the newcomers. Ayla saw her, and waved frantically, speeding up her horse with Jondalar following suit. As soon as they got close enough, Ayla dismounted and raced into her daughter's arms.

"My girl!" she exclaimed, hugging her hard, as Jondalar's burly arms encircled them both. "How I've missed you!"

Broud, too, watched the happy reunion with a chill running down his spine. Ayla truly looked as if she had just returned from the spirit world--time had not seemed to touch her at all! She was still tall, still the same flat-faced, ugly woman he remembered, down to the Clan-style amulet she still wore. But watching her, no seething anger, no jealous hatred welled in him this time--only a sense of fear and gratification that at last, her spirit had been appeased, and surely her totem would stop tormenting his Clan now.

He could see Anya frantically talking, and out of habit of the past several days, her hands moved as well, so he could see that she was rapidly spilling the story of the past many days.

He saw Ayla's eyes widen in acute horror, and she turned and glanced, right into his eyes. Uncomprehendible fear was in her blue-grey depths, perhaps he could not quite blame her. It lasted for several uncomfortable seconds before she turned and buried her head in Jondalar's chest, her shaking shoulders giving plenty of indication to her emotional turmoil.

There was a rustling sound behind them, Anya turned to see Durc, who had slipped up behind her the whole way. Anya tapped her mother' s shoulders and turned her gaze to that of the son she had been forced to leave behind. "Momma--it's Durc."

Ayla froze, and slowly lifted her head, sure she could not endure more shock. Durc? Her baby? The one that had been forced from her?

She beheld one of the tallest Clan men she had ever seen, only Echozar was taller. The man was definetly of mixed spirits, and suddenly she recognized him as a certain man she occassionaly had dreamed about in the past! The high forehead and chin, like hers, the Clan eyes and fully upright body--she had seen this in her dreams, had identified it as her son. Now he was standing before her!

"Durc?" it was little more than a whisper. Unbidden, her hands moved ever so slighty in gestures that meant, "Am I truly seeing you? My son?"

"Yes, Mother," was the hand gesture. Her eyes met his, and she saw the pain in them, the pain of long seperation. She knew then that he remembered her, had remembered her all too well. Her own pain matched his, and she knew that he did not blame her when he gave one whispered word, a word she had not heard spoken like that in many, many years. "Mama."

"Durc...." tears wet Ayla's face from the sheer emotional impact, she could not help it. Her baby, her son was now a grown man, handsome to her eyes, in a way that only a mother could feel. Suddenly, Durc forgot about Clan protocol that discouraged hugging or things of such personal natures outside of Hearth boundaries. He didn't care. His 'Mama', his golden-haired, adored goddess from his baby days, was back, and he felt that if he could not touch her and reassure himself she was real, he would go insane. So, when mother's instinct made her hold out her arms imploringly to him, he cast aside all doubts and moved into them, healing a bond that was never meant to be broken again.

****

Jondalar was totally shocked when Anya had breathlessly gasped out her story. It had sounded so farfetched....until he had seen the man of mixed spirits slip up behind him, and he first laid eyes on the man that was, literally, the son of his mate. He was somebody Jondalar had never thought to see.

Once the basic shock had worn off, he had to admire Anya's grit in helping these people. She had managed to set right several major wrongs, and he was happy for Ayla to see her so joyfully reunite with the people who had once loved her so, and still did.

There was one problem, he knew, and that would be Broud. He still did not fully understand how Anya, of all people, had pulled it off so that the Clan would formally recognize Ayla once again.

He was not looking forward to meeting this Broud, and he was certain Ayla was not, either. Anya had said Broud had mellowed, but Jondalar could not forget that this was the person who had treated Ayla so cruelly during her childhood and early womanhood, brutally raping her many times when she was ten and possibly being the spirit that had impregnated her with Durc in the first place, and who had ultimately been responsible for her banishment.

He could sense Ayla quivering inside when they finally reached where Broud was standing. Jondalar had a hard time masking his inner feeling of hatred for this man with the incredible cruel streak. He almost stopped Ayla when she lowered herself, trembling slightly, down into the position of request, but restrained himself just in time. By now, he had become very good at the Clan languages she had known, and he could understand most of their conversation.

Ayla felt her breath explode when she felt the tap on her shoulder. She had not been aware that she had been holding it, and she breathed hard when she looked up into Broud's emotionless eyes and stotic face.

"This woman would greet the leader," she gestured formally, but said nothing else as she waited for him to speak.

"Ayla of the Clan," he gesturef formally, "I see that you have overcome the spirits, and returned to us in good health. Time has not touched you."

She blinked in acute surprise, for gone was the ugly sneering way that he used to use on her. She could discern little from his eyes, facial expression, or body posture, but his words were not directed unkindly to her. In fact, she got the sense that he....was uneasy about her, somehow.

"This woman is surprised to be seen by the Clan," she gestured. "She did not expect to ever see you again."

"Nor did this man," was the careful reply. "The spirits pulled us far from our homes to make amends for the terrible wrongs this man inflicted the day of the earthquake."

Ayla's head jerked. Was she seeing his gestures right? Why was he blaming himself, when a man would never admit such a thing in front of a waiting and watching Clan, and especially to a woman if he could help it?

"This woman does not understand what the leader is implying," she gestured, dazed.

The measure of his debt to the spirits was so great, that Broud knew that a major step in pacifying them completely was to admit, in front of everybody, his mistake. It was humiliating, but in this case, he had no choice. "This man was wrong to have you cursed," he gestured. "This man was wrong to anger the spirits with his unkind acts. This man was very unwise as a youth, and made the spirits very angry. For years, our efforts of appeasement to your spirit and the Cave Lion who guarded you did not meet with much success. And, in so doing, and struggling these past years in search of a new home, this man learned some hard lessons. In breaking the curse upon you, Ayla, this man hopes to further appease your dangerous totem and gain favor with the spirits once again...for the sake of his people."

Ayla could not believe her eyes at the change in Broud. She peered closer at him as his gestures sank in, and saw his careworn expression, the fractionally tired slump of his shoulders, the worry lines etched around his eyes. There was no untruth about him, and she suddenly understood just how much her Clan had suffered because of Broud's rash actions and how desperately, and almost too late, he had tried to rectify them.

"This woman is grateful to be recgonized once again," she gesticulated, "But does this mean that she is once again considered and numbered among the Clan?"

"According to Clan law, yes, Ayla."

"This woman would accept such a decree, but on one condition," she stood up tall, looking down on Broud and not caring if he got angry. "This woman now has a dual identity. I have a family, I have a mate here among the Zelandonii. I am Ayla, of the Clan of the Cave Bear, protected by the Cave Lion, of the Mammoth Hearth of the Mamutoi people, and mate to Jondalar, daughter of Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. This woman will not give up the rights and priveleges that come with being of the Others. I will continue to hunt as I please, I will not obey any man against my better judgement. If I must give up these rights to be considered Clan once again, then I would rather be re-cursed, or not considered Clan."

Though the extremity of what she said was rather shocking in itself, he was unsurprised. Much of her had not changed, but the ways of the Others were very different, and she'd had years to get used to, and prefer, much of their way of life over the life of the Clan. What could he do? He could not make her spirit unhappy again, it would spell disaster. And she certainly would have the backing of her people behind her, she did have Others blood, and really, there was not much he could do to stop her now, and he told her so, after careful thought.

"Ayla is of the Clan, but she was born to the Others," he gestured carefully. "A woman must obey the customs of the people she lives with. You no doubt will continue to live with the Others, and they would expect you to act like a woman of the Others, not a Clan woman."

So, although it was not said directly, Ayla understood that her movements would no longer be impeded, for the most part, and for that, she would be forever grateful to Broud.

****

Anya studied her mother thoughtfully after she had left Broud to go unpack the horses. Why, she wondered, did her mother not show any emotions of anger or hatred to the former enemy that she must no doubt hate so much? It did not seem normal for Ayla to be so complascent in the face of such turmoil.

Turning, she looked beyond the horses to a nearby group of Clan, how the women, with subservience and docility bred into their blood, served and tended the Clan men and all the hard chores. It would never occur to them to rebel, she knew. Watching their infinite patience and the shrugging off of the 'discipline' their men inflicted upon them, seeing as how they did not seem to react or care much, she got a sudden inkling of her mother's actions.

Ayla had grown up Clan. Clan women were taught from the first that men were their absolute masters, and they had no choice to submit. Docility was not only bred into their blood, it was enforced from the time a baby girl started to toddle around and mimic the adults. No deviation was permitted, they *had* to obey the men and other boys.

After a short time, this influence grew so strong on them they stopped caring much if they were disciplined, and were so resigned to their lot in life that they could hardly change if they had wanted to.

Ayla herself had fought harder than most in overcoming her Others blood to conform to this type of female docility, it had taken years for her to be the type to show this unfeeling, unswerving obedience to her male masters. But once the habit had been set, it had become a permanent part of her personality. She had learned that what she felt was beside the point, it was one of life's trivialties, something to be overlooked.

Even today, Anya knew that this was a big part of her personality, she knew that while Ayla had learned to think for herself as an independent woman, if Jondalar requested her to do something, Anya had seen her mother get it quickly, no questions asked. No matter how much Jondalar had tried to discourage this, and no matter how much Ayla could think for herself if she knew it was right, basic everyday obedience was a hard lesson to overcome.

So, like a good Clan woman, Ayla was putting aside what she felt towards Broud, dismissing it from the fore of her thoughts. She would always feel the agonizing pain and hurt Broud had inflicted on her, and he would know it, but she was putting it aside because it no longer had relavence in her life and had nothing to do with the present day. It was Clan thinking, and although Anya would like to have had her mother vent some of this inner frustration, she knew Ayla more than likely never would.

While Ayla would, mostly, always feel resentment towards Broud, Anya was having a different experience with the leader of the Clan. He feared her somewhat, because of her powerful totem. He did not bark at her to get him this or that as she had seen him do with Oga or any other woman. On the contrary, he treated her with quite a bit of respect for a woman, not daring to anger her or her totem, which would surely anger the spirits in general, not when they were just starting to find favor with the Clan again.

With a sigh, she followed her mother out to the horses to help unpack. The Clan kept their distance from the animals, leery and extremely fearful of the strange magic Ayla and Anya especially held over the herd. The Ninth Cave was still the only Zelandonii cave with horses. The Lazandonii also had a smaller herd because Jondalar and Ayla were frequent visitors to the site. No one else was willing to train them except Ayla, Jondalar, and Anya.

"So....were you surprised?" asked Anya when she and Ayla had a moment alone. She reached up and tugged the straps off the horses, who knickered softly in her ears.

"How can you ask that, daughter mine?" sighed Ayla as she leaned tiredly on Whinney the Younger. Ayla's first horse was long since gone. "I have never had such a shock as the one you sprang on me today. Why did the Mother, why did Ursus, draw them here, allow you to find them in such a fashion, have you save them?"

"Besides the obvious," Anya mused, "I think the core reason for this is eluding me, Mother. Ursus won't say just why yet. I know it was for a more important reason than just saving their lives. I think the bigger picture is too much for a mortal like me to comprehend. We...will just have to wait and see, that's all."

Absently, her hand came to rest on her amulet, and she saw her mother's eyes widen in horror.

"Anya....your totem....if they find out...."

"They know, Momma. It horrified Broud especially, but they had to accept it, the could not afford to doubt it. Not in the position they were in. It was a factor in Broud's agreeing to remove the curse on you, I think. I could see hm contemplating it when I begged him to remove the curse."

Ayla shook her head as she threw her arms around her daughter, and Anya could feel her mother trembling. "Oh, my Anya, my brave girl. I wish I had your courage to face up to Broud as you do. I have too much of the Clan mannerisms bred into my bones. I never will be able to tell him what he did to me, how I feel about it, I cannot. It's too late for that."

"You have courage, Momma. You have more courage than I can fathom...just a different kind of courage. Otherwise you would never have survived. It is the courage of endurance."

Ayla knew this was true, for Mamut, Brun, Jondalar, Creb, those she had loved the most had told her so, how much they had admired her grit, knowing that she would not have suffered so much in life had she not been given the gifts, the courage, and the strength to endure.

She gave her daughter a harder hug before releasing her. Soon, it would be too late to hide the secret she had, and the timing of the Clan's return could not have been more impeccable. She would, indeed, be able to show them all what a woman could really do. In *all* aspects of life, as she had learned.

****

*Poor Momma,* Anya mused as she observed her mother struggle to help the Clan place the necessary items to fashion their new home. *How easy it is for her to slip back into the past.*

At times, it seemed as if Ayla had forgotten the present. She hardly talked with her voice, and Anya had detected the accent her mother had, which had thinned a bit over the years, come back full force. She knew that Ayla was struggling with herself, feeling that she was being pulled in many different directions, struggling to assimilate many different ways of life into one way of being. It had to be a terrible struggle as the past came rushing back.

*Momma,* she mentally thought, *Just be you, Ayla. That is who you were meant to be.*

Despite her mother's struggle, Anya knew her mother was hiding something from her. It was in her body posture, and Ayla was pale, shivering a lot and tired, though she was struggling with the Clan women. With a sigh, Anya fell in behind her mother as she struggled with a windbreaking post. The men were busy stamping stones into the ground to make a firmer cave entrance that would not be besieged by mud during spring rains.

"Mother, what's *wrong*?" she pleaded aloud, not caring if the Clan looked at her disapproving for using noisy, spoken language on their turf. "I wish you would not hide that from me."

"I am *fine*, child," out of resurfaced habit, Ayla made the motions as she spoke. "You know, a Clan woman would never ask such things, not even a Clan man. There are things people keep to themselves out of courtesy."

"I'm not Clan, now am I?" Anya said in a pertient tone.

"Don't be presumptuous, my daughter. Until you are mated, you live at my hearth, and I expect you to abide by my hearth rules. It includes not questioning your elders in such a fashion." She straightened with a sigh. "Which reminds me about that little matter of finding a mate already?"

The use of Clan sign language was getting to her, and Anya, when upset, was also known to revert to using it out of habit. She was upset enough now to subconsciously drop her work and moving her hands in the ancient gestures. "Mother, you promised not to nag me anymore about finding a mate. When I *want* to mate, I will do it. Not before."

"You are getting older, Anya. I had hoped you would be mated with a child of your own by now. I was only eleven when I had Durc, you are sixteen and have not accepted many men's advances since your womanhood rites."

"I only do it at Mother festivals because I don't want to dishoner Doni. I won't mate a man I cannot love," she gestured in frustration. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brun watching her with a raised eyebrow. He had entered the cave and only looked at her long enough to see that part of her conversation. She saw him shake his head in pity for a people who could not make up their minds to have arranged matings for them. It was so much easier, so straightforward. Few of these matches turned out terribly. Look at Ovra and her mate. She had been unable to have a child for so many years, most men would have discarded her. Not her mate. They were in love with each other, he would never discard her, even though she had not successfully had a baby until a few years ago, and then it was a girl. The pair were happy to have any children at their hearth at all, so the girl was very happy, perhaps even a little spoiled in a charming way, though she behaved properly around the men.

"This woman would greet and help her friends," signed Oga as she fell in to help them. "Are you having trouble, Ayla?"

"Not....much," Ayla omitted mention of her aching back and rolling stomach. "This woman is having trouble convincing her daughter she needs a mate of her own by now."

"Your leader didn't arrange a mate for her when she became a woman?" Oga asked naturally. "Is she too ugly for such a feat?"

Anya blushed, and Ayla, despite herself, chuckled.

"No. Anya is considered very beautiful around these parts. I know many a man who would like to make her his mate. But she won't do it. It is not the custom of the others to arrange a mating without the woman's consent."

Oga blinked at her. The thought was almost beyond her comprehension. "They....choose their own mates?" she asked. "Why? What if the man is not suitable for the woman? If he cannot provide for her, cannot hunt? Is it permitted for a woman to marry a cripple?"

"Men don't have to just hunt to make their living," Anya explained. "Jondalar is a flint knapper, he works with stone. He does not always have time to hunt. But he can make tools or other things in trade for food, or whatever he may need. And Ayla and I both provide a lot of meat for our hearth."

"Yes, I heard that you also allow women to hunt," Oga shuddered. "That is really tempting the spirits. But you seem to be all right."

"Our totems would not be as they are if the spirits did not want us to hunt," signed Ayla. "I don't use just the sling anymore. I use other weapons. I learned both on my own and with Jondalar's help."

"Mother and Jondalar both taught me to hunt," Anya signed. "And they taught me well. I learned from Jondalar how to knap flint, I can make weapons, too."

Oga went pale. "I would not mention that to the men," she gestured after conspiciously turning her back. "It would not make them happy."

"Back to the subject of mates," Ayla signed. "There are several men you know, Ayla, that would be good for you. What about Echozar? He's here, and he is unmated. Joplaya has been gone for four years now. I think he's been lonely long enough, and he's still young enough to mate and be a fit companion for many years to come."

"He's fifteen years my senior, Mother."

"That's not too great a difference, child. He has always liked you."

"Ha. He still sees me as the same little girl he dandled on his knee when you took me to visit the Lazandonii, or he came to visit here. And right now he's uneasy. He's part Clan, and he fears this one may think him deformed, unlucky."

"Broud was wary of him at first," interrupted Oga. "But he saw how the rest of your kind welcomed him, and the children of his hearth. It eased his fears."

"You always could bring him out of any depression, Anya," Ayla encouraged her. "If you don't want to mate him, then at least cheer him up, would you? He prefers your company because you listen to him in ways nobody else can--not even me." Abruptly, she stopped signing and only spoke aloud, so the rest of the Clan could not understand them. "And perhaps you should consider laying off the herbs that prevent pregnancy this summer. If you get with child, you will have men all over you wanting your hand. Besides that, you would share my condition for awhile."

The last few sentences she had signed, and when the meaning of what she said dawned on both Oga and Anya, both went pale in surprise.

"Ayla!" Oga gestured. "Have....has your totem been defeated? Are you..."

Ayla gave a weak smile and nodded. "Yes," she signed simply. "My prayers to the spirits have been answered. I've been blessed by the Mother....my totem allowed himself to be defeated." Wisely, she chose not to mention her unorthodox ideas about conception. "I am going to have a baby."

"Momma!" gasped Anya. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure, my daughter. I decided that perhaps I could take one more chance, try again for another child, despite the risks."

"Risks?" echoed Oga.

"Momma, you almost died giving life to both Durc and I!" Anya was upset. "This time....I don't want to lose you...not now."

Ayla sighed and reached out to hug her daughter, not caring that the Clan would disapprove of such a gesture outside of hearth boundaries. "I know..." she fumbled and spoke at the same time. "It is a risk I am willing to take, Anya. I would like to give Jondalar a son of his spirit." She stopped signing, and only spoke aloud the next words. "That is why I stopped taking the herbs to prevent pregnancy. I decided I was ready to face that risk again."

Anya nodded. "Then I support you, Momma." She brushed the tears from her eyes, not wanting to concern whoever Clan was watching. "It is wonderful news, despite the danger. I'm happy for you."

Suddenly, her voice lowered, and she whispered urgently. "But what about this summer?! The woman's ceremony you and Zelandoni do every summer with the sacred root?! She knows how to use it, but she doesn't know how to prepare it! I don't want her attempting this dangerous feat on her own!"

Ayla shook her head. "I don't know, maybe this summer it should be skipped."

"I'll go with her, Momma," Anya whispered. "You shared the secret of the root preperation with me. I'll make it and join Zelandoni this year."

Ayla went white. "No!" she exclaimed. "You cannot, Anya. Every year, both Zelandoni and I risk our lives taking that drug. It takes the utmost effort of her mate and Jondalar to call us back from the voids we travel in. You are completely novice....it's too dangerous."

"I am your daughter, Momma. I am medicine woman. I must have experience, as you do. I have enough training as a Zelandoni to handle it, I'm sure of it. I need a chance."

"You also don't have a mate to call you back."

"I have you and Jondalar," she asserted. "I just don't want Zelandoni doing this alone. This summer, I will make the special drink, and I will join Zelandoni in traveling the other realms."

"I cannot talk you out of it at all, can I?" sighed Ayla. Anya shook her head.

"All right, Anya. You will do it. But be careful and do exactly as Zelandoni tells you, or neither of you will return alive. And if the Clan men ever see us doing this, we will be more than death-cursed by them, Clan or no, is what I am afraid of."

****

Sounds of fesitivites could be heard by the Zelandonii as the Clan celebrated the acceptance of their new home. Anya sat outside and listened, somehow she had the feeling that, with the Clan so close, her life was going to be much, much different than she had originally expected her outlook to be.

*But I should have expected that I would live lifetimes in one life,* she mused, feeling for her amulet. *I should have known better than to think that, being guarded by the cave bear, my life would be anything but a normal existence.*

It would not be, not by a long shot, as she was going to discover in the days to come.

But that's another story.