Legal Disclaimer: Jean Auel and company owns the concept of Earth's Children, not me. *begs* please don't sue, please? I am glad everyone enjoyed the first story, I hope you enjoy the second as much as the first one.

Teaser: Can a hunt, with both the Others and Clan involved, work out?

Some inner sense awoke Anya early the morning after the Clan's cave adoption ceremony. Groggily, she stifled a yawn and silently arched her slender body. She rubbed her blue-violet eyes sleepily and pushed herself up from her fur pallet, automatically looking towards the cave entrance and seeing the sky turning a very faint shade of pink to herald the coming of the morning sun.

Absently, she turned and glanced at her mother and Jondalar on the other side of their Hearth, lying entwined on a pallet of their own, with a fur coverlet barely sheilding their bodies. Ayla's head was pillowed on Jondalar's shoulder, and both looked at peace....in fact, Anya noted that there was an aura of peace on her mother's face that she had never before seen, as if some great weight had been lifted from her overly-burdened soul.

She smiled inadvertently, not in the least fazed by their intimate-looking position. Children were not sheilded from their parent's nocturnal activities very much, it was just a way of life, part of a normal upbringing. The Mother's Gift was not something to be hidden from sight, mind, or body as if it were something evil. To do so would dishoner the Mother, vent her wrath.

Anya was glad, too, that after so many years of being mated, her parents still were all over each other like a couple of kids just past their adulthood rites. If given a choice, one always chose the other during Mother festivals, they only occassionally deferred to the concept of sharing because the Mother had decreed that her Children share the gift, it was only proper.

The Mother festival. Anya remembered it was not far from now, when the Zelandonii summer meeting commenced nearby. She knew word had already spread to the other caves that a Clan group was now among them, and she knew, too, that Broud was arranging for many of the Clan to be scarce during the time. Times were better between both peoples, but the integration process would take more than just one season.

Tiredly, she looked over at her sleeping mother again. The thin fur coverlet was drawn tightly across her abdomen, Anya could make out the discernable swelling that her mother's earlier, looser clothes had hid. Anya frowned, wondering why her mother had not told her she was blessed before she even left for the Lazandonii cave. It had not been that long ago, after all, and she was certain, looking at her now, that Ayla was at least four moons along. Ayla surely had known before she had left, if she was that far along.

Anya stifled a yawn and dismissed any misgivings in advance. At least her mother *was* blessed by the Mother at last, that the Mother had allowed her Cave Lion spirit to be defeated again. Ayla had long been afraid of having another baby after Anya, since she had almost died that time. She had lain unconscious for two days before she awoke. Her close-cousin, Folaria, sister to Jondalar, had been the one to give her nourishment those first crucial days as Ayla fought for life.

*Momma, I don't want to lose you, too.*

It was probably why her mother had said nothing until her secret became impossible to hide, Anya mused. *She is trying to spare me.*

She decided that she would approach her mother on it later, find out for sure, but she was not going to pressure Ayla into anything. Anya loved and respected her mother too much to cause her such distress.

*Speaking of pregnancy,* she mused, *I have to go find more golden thread. I'm getting low, I can't afford to run out in the weeks before the Mother festival. I'm sorry, Momma, I know you want me to be blessed, but I just don't feel ready.*

There was no denying that Anya loved children, all the children in the Cave, and many Clan children, now, too, adored her. But she knew that, espcially now, she could not get pregnant. Especially with this news.

If Ayla died, it was certain that the duty was going to fall on her to raise the infant if it survived. Anya knew she could not do that if she was pregnant herself. She and her mother were the only ones who knew the secrets contained in the Golden Thread plant, it was too powerful a magic to be commonly shared. Especially if it was Clan magic. Anya wondered how the Clan men would react to such news, that a woman could do this?

And the Root ceremony this summer? It was something else to fear. No way was she going to let Ayla do this, not in her condition. Every year, she had to watch in helpless fear as the ceremony came near to killing her mother and Zelandoni, seeing them go that dreadful shade of blue-grey. She was always afraid that she would one day see her mother slip into that unconscious oblivion...and never return.

*Mother, this year I am taking your place. It will be bad enough if the Clan, any of them, happens to see it. But I need the experience you do. I am Medicine Woman, guarded by Ursus. I must understand the spirit world Creb introduced you to.*

Anya rose and, silently as she could, put on her short summer two-piece tunic. The leather was cut to take advantage of any summer coolness, by leaving her abdomen exposed and the top part sleeveless to be exposed to any cooling air avalible. The leather skirt was fringed and hung to her knees, slit slightly on the sides so that she could ride her horse, Star, comfortably.

Absently, she picked up a couple of absorbent leather towels and a container of the soap her mother had learned to make from the Losadunai. Anya had found that she preferred this substance to soaproot any day.

She crept out of the cave and headed for the river that ran nearby both the Ninth Cave and the new Clan cave. She did not bother getting Star on this morning, such animals spooked the Clan the way the Others handled them, and they were too uneasy with her ability to control her horse.

She had rather expected to be alone on such a morning, the Clan had been up all night celebrating the Cave initiantion ceremony. Anya was not sure what the men did, but she remembered her mother's description of the women's celebration. As expected, she did see some of the prostrate bodies of the women sprawled near the cave entrance, where they slept, drugged, naked, and exhausted from a night of frantic dancing.

To her horror, however, she saw the men stumbled from the cliffs nearby. Quick as a flash, she ducked behind a bush out of sight. It would definetly not do for them to see a woman having witnessed them coming from one of their secret ceremonies. She was not sure why it was so important, but she recalled her mother's stories all too well, and she knew that, as a woman, she was a possible danger to the Clan spirits, seeing them in such a fashion.

She was grateful they paid her no notice as they stumbled over the bodies of the sleeping women, heading into the cave to rest on their own. It was only after the last man had left that Anya dared to rise and continue her journey to the river.

When she reached the river, she pulled off her tunic, down to the leather underclothing. Nudity was not much of a problem for the Cave, it was how a person was made, and she was used to seeing people near-unclothed, within the confines of the cave or when they bathed at the river, especially in the heat of the summer. She knew the Clan had similar customs, it was no big deal to either group

She wet her long hair and dug her fingers into the soap to remove enough for use. She marveled at the miracle of this stuff, the Losandunai had taught her mother well, so Ayla never forgot. The substance was now a common one among many of the Zelandonii and Lazandonii caves. It worked well enough that Anya did not even mind the terrible-smelling process of making it, or the slimy substance that was the preferred result of the venture.

Just as she finished rinsing her hair out, she sensed a presence nearby. She brushed her wet hair out of her eyes to see a Clan woman watching her intently.

It was Uba, Ayla's "sister", standing there watching her with guarded curiosity in her gaze as she held protectively to her youngest daughter.

"This woman came to bathe her and her child at the river," she gestured formally. "She hopes she is not disturbing you."

"Of course not," Anya gestured naturally. "This woman is glad to see the sister of her mother. She thought you'd be asleep after celebrating all night. This woman's mother often told me of your women's celebrations in the past."

"This woman could not sleep for long, and she has a daughter to tend to," Uba gestured as she pulled the wrap off her daughter, Ina, and with utomst care, placed the child's amulet on top.

"You do look tired, Uba," Anya commented. "Are you happy in your new home?"

Uba gestured in the affirmative. "Oh, yes. Broud knew it was going to be our new home when the Cave Bear bones were found. Vorn told me the hunting is excellent around here, and the gathering. Our spirits are happy with us at last. The men are planning many hunting parties this summer; we must stock up for the following winter."

"Many in our group are planning to hunt as well," Anya gestured thoughtfully. "We not only have to prepare for winter, we have to have extra to take to the meetings our people have every summer."

"Your people gather every summer?" Uba gestured in curiosity. "Is it like a Clan gathering?"

"In some ways, but it happens every summer, not just once every seven years. The last one was hosted by a nearby Clan from this reigon. I accidentally stumbled close, and I thought the men would have a conniption to see that not only was I carrying a weapon--I was carrying a kill."

Uba looked horrified.

"I already told you, Uba, women of the Others are permitted to hunt, same as the men. I saw them gesture at me as a bad spirit, hoping I would go away. I went, but I was more careful not to accidentally enter their territory after that."

"I am a good Clan woman," Uba gestured. "There is no way anybody could get me to invoke the spirit's wrath by touching a weapon." her gestures had lost their formality. "I don't know the ways of the spirits, that is something reserved for the men, especially the Mog-Urs. But I do think that the Others are very different in many ways from the Clan--maybe that is why the spirits allow your women to hunt."

Anya shrugged, careful not to say anything explicit. She sitll did not feel like invoking the wrath of the Clan spirits on her head.

"Our cave is planning a bison hunt," she gestured instead. "We need to bring down a large number of animals this go-around, to ensure that we will have enough for our Cave to use."

"That is what the Clan men are planning," signed Uba thoughtfully.

Anya was struck by an inkling thought. "Do you think that your men would agree to hunt with us? We need extra hands and it would bring down more Bison. Of course, they would recieve an ample share of the kill."

"Why don't you have your leader bring it up with Broud?" Uba asked innocently. "I don't think such a thing has been done before--it's not in *my* memories--but there is no real reason why not, if the spirits favor such a transaction."

*She knows more about the spirit world than she's letting on,* Anya thought, but did not give rise to her opinion. She reminded herself to bring it up with Joharran when she got back.

She finished washing herself, and she saw Uba wonder at the substance that made it possible. "This substance....I don't recognize it," she gestured in awe, and a little fearfully. "It seems to work better than soaproot. What is it?"

"It is called...." Anya spoke the word, since the Clan would have no gesture for it. "Soap. Mother learned it from a distant people called the Losadunai. They live across the glacier, far on the other side. Mother learned the technique on her way to the Zelandonii for the first time those years ago."

She saw Uba struggle with herself for the temptation to ask how it was done. Such a thing was not easily in the Clan traidition, and in the end, she decided not to make her mate angry by trying something so different so quickly. It was just not the Clan way.

****

To her surprise, Joharran was actually pleased by the thought of both people joining on one hunting party. It seemed the leader was still a little nervous about maintaining the fragile peace they held, and he wanted to subtly strengthen their ties. One good way was to work together in such a fashion for the benefit of all.

Anya was proud of Joharran's foresight. It emphasized, at least in her mind, his genuine ability to lead his people without requiring their unswerving, unquestioning obedience. No wonder he did not have to force respect--he oozed it naturally.

"You can tell Broud," she mused, "That I am planning to invoke the spirits of the hunting totems on this hunt--espeically that of Ursus, to guide us on our way. That should make him agree."

****

He did. Broud had frowned at the thought that this hunting party would include female hunters of the Others, but when Anya herself told him that she was going to invoke the protection of powerful spirits for the hunt, he was too uneasy and too afraid to disagree. When it came to anything to do with Ursus, it was best not to argue, even if one felt differently. The risks were too great to his Clan, even if one or two of them did still somehow frown at, or doubt, her real connection to the Cave Bear. It had been decreed by a *woman*, after all--women did not get so close to the spirits.

Unwilling to take the chance of invoking the wrath of the spirits so soon after making them happy again, he agreed to the hunt. Besides, he wondered just how easily these men of the Others could hunt, and if it was any different than what his kind did.

****

There was, however, a couple of matters of protest. Ayla, out of the blue, insisted on coming. Anya had guessed correctly how far along her mother was, and her mother's reasons for hiding her condition.

"You should be resting, Mother," Anya argued as she packed her hunting gear. "I don't want you to lose the baby--or have us lose you."

"I won't, I promise," Ayla insisted. "I never had trouble with you until my labor started. My main problem, daughter, is that I have narrow hips, like you do. And though you were a small baby, you had a large head. But before that, I was active my whole pregnancy without ill effect."

"You were ill your whole pregancy with Durc," Anya pointed out.

"I believe that is because I was so young, and malnourished because of Broud's treamtent of me," sighed Ayla. "Even then, I was not fully developed. I think it is a rather good thing, Anya, for a woman to wait until she is around fourteen before considering having a baby, when she is taller and more developed for bearing a baby. I had barely become a woman when Broud started forcing me."

Anya knew that this was true. She inwardly cringed when mention was made of Broud's mistreatment of her mother those years ago. She could close her eyes and almost feel her mother's horror and pain of her first time, the victim of a cruel rape. Her own first time had barely hurt at all, the man who had made her a woman had been very gentle.

Anya didn't want to hate Broud, for the man she had come to know was much more considerate in the end than the monster her mother had described. It was all the sudden responsibilty, and knowing it was his fault his clan had been homeless for so long, that had made him mature at long last--and in a hurry.

"There's no way I can talk you out of it?" Anya made one final attempt to dissuade her mother from trying this foolish excursion.

"Sorry, my daughter. If it makes you feel any better, I promise to stay out of the thick of things,all right?"

"All right," Anya murmured with lowered eyes. She was really afraid something bad would happen, and she made a promise to herself to be on her toes to guard her mother as much as possible.

****

Another matter of concern was two certain people who were going to accompany them. Not only was Echozar, a man of mixed spirits, going, his daughter Jerika was accompanying them as well.

Anya thought Broud was going to have a heart attack when she told him. He was aghast, Clan women did not hunt! And the girl was part Clan, she should not be hunting, lest she anger the spirits.

"Ayla herself helped teach that woman to hunt," Anya pointed out to the leader when he stopped ranting enough to watch her gestures. "Jerika is one of the best hunters of the Lazandonii. And don't forget she is more Others than Clan--Echozar, the father of her spirit, is only part Clan as well. Her mother Joplaya was a full-blooded woman of the Others."

And, she reminded him, that neither Echozar nor Jerika were ever named and counted among the clan, so according to Clan tradition, they were not Clan. They might have Clan blood, they were acknowledged as individuals, they were not named and numbered among any Clan. However, the Others had accepted them and considered them to be as much Lazandonii as anybody else. Long years of knowing Echozar, a man of mixed spirits, for so many years, nobody doubted this fact anymore.

So, grudgingly, Broud quieted. Having a woman with Clan blood in her veins actually hunt was against his sensebilities as well as his memories, but he knew that he could make no real objection, he had no traditional grounds to do so.

After some deliberation, Anya and Ayla convinced Joharran to leave the horses behind. The Clan was simply too uneasy around the tame herd, it was spirit magic out of their comprenesion. Somehow, Broud was not surprised to discover that Ayla, a woman who had lived in the spirit realm for years, was responsible for this strange, fearful bit of spirit magic.

Anya checked over her weapons one more time, quickly. Her spear, of her own design as Jondalar had taught her, and her spear-thrower and many tiny spears to be used with it. She also had her sling handy, she still favored this weapon over all others.

Clan men joined them at the river, and they headed to the steppes and cliffs beyond to find traces of the large animals. Anya noticed, to her surprise, that the hunting party had no women accompanying them. She suspected it was because this was a first hunt between the two groups, better safe than sorry.

It made her wonder, though, how they planned to haul all the meat back and dry it. It wasn't in the men's memories, it would take considerable pushing for them to even consider trying to do it themselves.

It did not take them long to come to Lookout Point. It was a favored spot of Anya's; she knew every stone of this easily-climbable cliff. She thought nothing of laying her spear aside and scrambling up to see what she could over the distant hills and cliffs.

"Joharran!" she cried. "To the east! Bison!"

He followed her pointing finger, then quickly came up the cliff sides himself to see what she was indicating.

"It's a large herd!" he called and gestured at the same time, so everyone could understand him. "Half a morning's travel away!"

It was good news to have bison so close, this was meant to be a large kill, for both groups had several mouths to feed.

When the two had descended the cliff, the group gathered to try and formulate a plan. The good thing about it was, the herd was near another, much steeper cliff, if they surrounded it right, set the trap right, they should be able to run the animals off the cliff to the ground below, where they could be finished off by spears and spear-throwers.

Anya had noticed Durc eyeing the strange weapon she had strapped to her, and he interrupted her thoughts about capture to ask her about it.

"Is that what you call them--spear-throwers?" he inquired, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "I have never seen spears made so tiny; the shafts look like twigs! How could you possibly jab them into anything?"

"Not these," she answered as the Clan men turned to watch her gestures in abject curiosity. "These are meant to be thrown with the spear-thrower." She indicated her instrument, the curved piece of wood strung with tough fibres to form a rope to notch the spear-thrower into.

"How does it work?" Durc, possibly because of his mixed blood, was more open to change than the other men. "How can that thing throw those tiny spears?"

"I'll demnostrate," she answered, and pulled the bow off over her head. She drew a tiny spear from the container of them on her back, and carefully placed the notched end on the fibrous material that was strung on the curved wood. She closed her eyes for a moment, to ask Doni and Ursus for guidance before she attempted this feat. She pulled the strung back, and the tiny spear with it.

A flock of ptarmigan was flying overhead, Anya nodded at them to indicate her target to the watching crowd.

So fast it was hardly believable, there was a faint *zhing!* as a blur whizzed through the air, and a particularly large, fat ptarmigan fell to the ground with a considerable *thump*.

She could see the fear and wonder in the eyes of the Clan as she triumphantly lowered her weapon. It almost literally blew them away, such a thing would have been almost unconceivable for them; it was not generally the Clan way. Still, she could see the excitement they carefully guarded, and she understood they were contemplating how easy the kills would be if they had such a weapon.

"May I see that?" signed Durc, his large Clan eyes full of fear and wonder. Anya surely was guarded by Ursus after all, for her to have such control of a weapon.

"Obligingly, she handed it to him so he could study it.

"This bow is curved like the horns of a Bison," he gestured. "Is that what this weapon was intended for--especially since the spirit of the bison itself seems to be captured here?"

"Perhaps," Anya answered. "It has brought down many bison over the years. But it can kill other animals as well--Jondalar got the idea for this weapon watching Mother with her sling."

Ayla let out a sigh as she lowered herself to the ground to rest. Anya noticed this immeadiately, and left Durc holding her sling and Jondalar explaining how it worked. She went over to her mother, making the traditional Clan gesture of greeting, just to see her mother smile.

Ayla did. Anya knew her mother was still struggling with herself over her feelings for Broud. She would never really confront Broud over these old feelings, and Anya knew this. And this strange, new Broud was someone a little more worthy of respect. Ayla wanted to respect him, especially for the sake of her Clan, but she had hated Broud so. It was a tough struggle she had to overcome on her own. Anya would be there for her, but only Ayla could resolve this inner conflict, and the woman knew it.

A few minutes later, they got to their feet as Joharran gave out the signal to move. Anya paused, closing her eyes and clutching her amulet. Silently, she begged the spirits, and Doni, to see them all to safety in this dangerous hunt, and espcially to guard her mother and her unborn baby.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her mother doing the same thing, silently begging the spirits to guide not only their hands and feet, but their hearts on this hunt.

Knowing they could not linger, they hurried to catch up with the hunting party, to Jerika, who was waiting for them. Anya considered, and she prayed quickly for Jerika to help prove a point to the men of the Clan. This would be the ulitmate test of showing Clan men that women could be adequate hunters, and Anya could think of no one better than Jerika, with her Clan blood in her veins, for proving the point the best.

****

As they traveled, Anya looked behind her. Echozar was lagging behind, a familiar melancholy in his eyes, as well as an understandable apprehension. Anya felt sorry for him, he had loved Joplaya very much. But the woman had died four years ago of pneumonia, he was terribly lonely and would not consider imposing his ugly self on another woman--at least he had said.

And, in a way, he was kin. Not by blood, certainly, he was not forbidden to her during Mother festivals--although he never participated--but he had been the mate of Joplaya, her close-cousin. Anya had known him all her life, and she knew his gentle side very well. He was not the really stotic type like Clan men, though he certainly looked Clan. But he had the high forehead and impressible height of the Others, and he was remarkably intelligent.

*He's not ugly to me--inside, he's beautiful.* Anya mused. She had grown up around him many a summer when her parents took her to visit the Lazandonii, she rememberd how he dandled her on his knee, swung her around to make her giggle, and told her often that she was as beautiful as her mother after she had reached womanhood. The first couple of times, it had only seemed silly, but last year, when he joked around with her like that, she had become unexpectedly shy and backed off, not knowing what to say.

Seeing him now, unhappy and uneasy, she was determined to bring him out of it. She slowed her steps until they matched his, and waited patiently until he registered her presence beside him and gave her a smile of welcome.

"I saw you look melancholy," she said brightly, "Maybe I should tell you that there is an old saying among the Zelandonii--don't make faces like that, they could stick that way."

His smile became a little larger. "What's the difference, then?" he joked. "Your face should be stuck in that beautiful smile of yours. Makes this old man feel better."

"You're not old," she poked him. "You are only fifteen years older than me."

"And you're sixteen," he countered. "Doesn't that make me close to middle-aged by now?"

"Hardly." She flashed her smile at him again. "Don't feel so low, remember that there are plenty of people here for you, Echozar--I'll be here for you, although I'm a woman now, too big for you to dandle on your knee anymore."

He did laugh then, but turned his head so she would not see his pained expression. A woman she was! To a man who had been so pained by Joplaya's death, he had definetly noticed she was a woman. And not just outwardly. Her inner brightness and warmth, even as a child, had often been something he could look forward to every year upon seeing her. Her blossoming into a beautiful woman had not gone entirely unnoticed, but it was last year that she had really turned his head, when he had first started to sense the ache in his heart ease just a little. Her bright aura, her deep, expressive violet eyes, so like Dalanar's--they had caught his attention in a way he had not felt in years, for anybody.

When she had left him last summer, it only became worse for him. He did not dare tell her or her parents that some of his sad dreams of Joplaya had been replaced by happier, but bittersweet dreams of the daughter of Jondalar's hearth. Anya was young, bright, and too sweet for an ugly man like him. Plus, she was high-ranked, a respected Zelandoni and medicine woman, how could somebody, a man of mixed spirits like he, dare to dream of her and expect reciprocation?

So, as he did now, he kept his mouth shut. To be part of her life in any way was all he could ask of her, all he could dream to have--her friendship, no matter how painful it was. Far better to have a little of her than nothing at all, not after what he had already been through.

"Come on--let's get out there and hunt!" she was encouraging him, snapping him out of his dream-world. She was smiling at him and holding out her hand, and although he knew that her touch was painful to him, a reminder he could never really have her, he took it anyway, ignoring the warm flush that ran over him. Forcing his mind to the hunt, he managed to put aside his more turbulent thoughts--but only for a little while.

****

"We are in agreement then?" signed Joharran. "We split up, here at the edge of the woods, just before they break out on the steppes for that cliff. We scream, yell, make noise, and drive them towards the cliff. Those of you who will be below let loose with your weapons, finish them off."

"Don't forget to be on your tightest guard," Anya warned. "There are always a few that panic and lose their sense of direction--if they head straight towards you, it would be too easy to get trampled. Be careful."

There were nods of agreement all around.

****

Anya crept next to Durc as they moved silently through the forest that bordered the open steppe cliffs. There were only two other ends the herd could go, and the other open end would be blocked by hunters hiding behind some stragetically-placed boulders. The only other opening was the cliff, and it was a sheer drop down.

"Listen carefully to Joharran's signal," she signed in the silent language to her sibling. "He could give it at any moment."

Her brother nodded, impressed with his sister's keen sense of direction and hunting skill. The first woman besides his mother he had ever seen hunt, it brought back old, old memories he would never forget--and would never forget.

Anya held her breath, closing her eyes one more time and clutching her amulet, praying to Ursus again for guidance, as well as to Doni to guide them on this hunt, which would feed Her children well this summer. There were so many mouths to feed, and she prayed that the Mother would be merciful enough to provide her Children with the sustinence they needed to survive.

She ignored Durc's staring at her, and she set him back on guard with the warning to listen for Joharran's signal. If he did not appreciate her communicating with Clan spirits, or spirits he did not know about, that was *his* problem.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she heard the agreed-upon signal. A sharp blast echoed through the trees, and suddenly, a huge burst of yells, screams, and cries vibrated the way through the forest and steppes, startling the peacefully-grazing heard into a panicked frenzy.

Within seconds of the hunters appearing, waving blankets, yelling with all their might and hurling of stones, spears, and spear-thrower spears, the great animals went into a frenzy, looking for a way out. They were not built for running in the forest, and it was surrounded by hunters. The open area off to the side was surrounded by hunters, as well, yelling, shrieking, throwing things. They had no choice but to head towards the one area that was not blocked--forgetting about the sheer drop to the hard ground below.

As Anya had predicted, a few did not heed the direction set by the rest of the herd, turning and heading straight for the hunters in a stampeding frenzy.

To Anya's horror, one of the large bulls was galloping straight in the direction of her terrified mother!

*ZHING*! Before she could think, sheer instinct made Anya react. One of her tiny spears was out of its container and whizzing through the air at an incredible speed within moments, and found it's mark in the bull's neck.

The startled bull gave an agonizing bellow of pain, turning almost immediately in violent spasms. Anya immediately notched another spear, which found it's way into another area of the neck.

The bull gave out a mighty bellow and fell. Blood not only spurted from it's wounds, it began to bubble and trickle from his nose. The arrows had buried themselves in major neck arteries, he bled to death within seconds.

Ayla, though white, managed to give her daughter a grateful smile. Anya was rather startled at how quickly her mother recovered, even for her, and she was pregnant. But she had no time to think as the pandamonium continued around her.

A second bison, a cow that was obviously pregnant, also had veered in a different direction. Jerika saw her chance and hurled her hand-spear as hard as she could. It found its mark directly in the animal's hide. She whipped out her own spear-thrower and whipped two more tiny spears at the cow for good measure.

A third bison, a yearling calf, found itself being greeted from Ayla's spear-thrower, and a couple of slung stones to make sure of the job.

Again, Echozar managed to bring down the final raging cow that had deterred from her course with one swift lunge of his spear. That was all it took for the muscular man's hard throw, and he almost blushed when Anya nodded approvingly at him.

By then, many of the other bison had tumbled over the cliff. Wisely, the hunters let a few go in the opposite open direction so they would not completely deplete the herd. They joined the hunters at the cliff edge, hurling spears and spear throwers, and stones from slings, down to finish off the injured, dead bison lying at the bottom.

When all was silent, and they were sure all of them were dead, Joharran let up a truimphant whoop that was swiftly followed by the other hunters. It was over, and the hunt had been a rousing success!!!

Now fell the less plesant task of skinning the animals and taking back as much meat and whatever else was needed, as much as each individual person could carry.

Both men and women of the Others were adept at such work, and without a hitch, they fell to skinning the hides of the fallen Bison--it meant not only meat, but clothes from the hides, utensils and weapons from the bones, uses for the fat the animals contained. If at all possible, little about the animal was wasted.

Clan men were not as adept at skinning an animal as Clan women were, but they had not brought any of their women with them, like they usually did. However, they were adept enough to help with this rather bloody chore, and they fell to the macbre, but necessary task, with good humor. The hunt had been overwhelmingly successful, with no deaths or even injuries. It was confirmation that the spirits were looking on them in a positive light once more. The Clan men were jubilant that their luck had turned at last--Ursus was smiling on them as he had not done in a long, long time.

Brun was convinced that it was bringing Ayla back into the lives of the Clan, as well as having Urusus so near in the form of Anya's totem, that made the spirits happy. It was also an indcation that the spirits were not unhappy about women hunting--even the girl of mixed spirits, Jerika, had managed to easily bring in her fair share of the kill.

It made him pause and look harder at Jerika. She might have the memories, and a few Clan features, but she had the memories of the Others, too--the ability to overcome her Clan blood and hunt like a man.

In all, he mused, it had been a strange, but rewarding day.

As they worked, they came to realize that the only real danger now was keeping a sharp eye out for scavangers and carnivores--especially the kind that would prey on both live and dead targets. With so many bison dead, the smell of blood was heavy in the air.

With the scent of blood so strong, it was not long before they attracted their first "visitors". A creepy laugh made ice trickle up Anya's spine, and she saw her mother stiffen in utter hatred and disgust.

She knew the reason even before the bad smell alerted her. A group of laughing, dirty heyenas were the first to pit themselves at the easy-looking group of hunters and their bountiful kill.

They were a truly bold lot, darting forwards to try and snitch a mouthful of meat from the open kills, even daring to go for some split-open bison that were being worked on by hunters.

"Shoo! Scat! Get out of here!" Jerika snapped an old hide in the face of a hideously-laughing heyena. He was not deterred, trying to dart forward again.

Anya stopped and reached for her sling. Using the familiar double-stone technique her mother had taught her, she whipped a few stones at him and others--not aimed to kill, but to be sharp, stinging reminders to leave, that they were not welcome.

They backed off, but soon returned to cause more trouble. One bold, stubborn fellow even dared to get close enough to steal a whole shank of meat from Broud when he was careless enough to turn his back for a moment.

"Cre-youda!" he shouted in a well-defined Clan curse, breaking out of his stotic composure for an instant. Ayla, seeing this, brought out her own sling and, with a rapid hurl, felled one heyena permanently as a warning to the other heyenas to stay away.

This time, they got the message, dragging the dead heyena with them so the day was not a complete loss.

Their next visitors were more dangerous. Wolves came prowling up, sniffling the heavy scent of blood in the air. The did not seem scared, for this group of dead bulls and weak-looking humans looked like easy pickings.

Shouts alerted Anya to the presence of wolves at the edge of the group. She saw that one of them was cornering Broud against the cliff wall, and he had raised his bola threateningly. Anya thought nothing of sending a hail of stones hurling his way, killing one of the wolves and frightening the other. He did not get far, either--an injured wolf will always seek revenge if not taken care of.

Broud closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his kinship debt to Anya practically double. For the second time, she had saved his life. And she was unmated, so her mate could not take her debt for her. What was more, she was protected by Ursus. In extension, it meant that his debt was owed to Ursus now, too--or his spirit would be at stake if he did not at least acknowledge the depth of his debt, and he did not know how to reciprocate.

****

Later in the day, they had managed to skin the animals and set the hides to prevent decay. They had also taken what they could of the animals, and paid proper respect to the spirits for the Mother's generous donation of the aimals to keep Her children alive. And the Clan had paid utmost respect to Ursus for his generosity of this kill.

Thus burdedened, they left, heading for home and leaving the remanents of their kill open to scavangers. They were not even out of earshot when the sounds reached their ears, the sounds of carnivores of various species howling, yipping, fighting, and feasting.

They were to get another visitor before they reached their respective caves, one very different than they expected, one that would strike fear and awe into the very hearts of the Clan men, and tremble at the power one of the humans in their group posessed.

****

It was a gentle rumbling that alerted them this time. Joharran and Broud, walking at the fore of the group, heard it first and stopped. Heads turned, and a surprised silence fell as a giant cave bear, already getting fat from the summer's offerings, lumbered lazily into view. He did not seem to mind their presence at all--it was as if he was used to them.

What was strangest about him, though, outside of his enormous size, was that one of his paws was red. He was possibly the largest of his kind they had ever seen, and it seemed so eerie that he did not attack or run, like most bears would do with man so close.

But he paid them little mind, only sniffling along the ground, using his strange, red foot to dig in the soil for grubs.

It was Ursus himself, and the men of the clan were awed by his appearance, as well as deeply grateful he chose to honor them with his presence, to personally show them that, once again, the Clan were in the favor of the spirits.

Suddenly--and unexpectedly--the giant bear reared itself up to it's full height and sniffed the air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and with a sudden, happy grin, it turned sharply and headed straight for them!

The Clan men stiffened in surprise and tightened their grips on their weapons, wondering if he was going to attack. It would be expected, especially after Ursus had been acting so strange. It would be an honor to be chosen by Ursus to walk the world of the spirits, but they felt now was not the time to meet their ends at one swipe of his gigantic paw.

The bear ignored them, however. To the Clan's infinite amazement, he sped right past them and headed for the curly-haired woman in their midst. To their further shock, he knelt down on all fours in front of her, and completely without fear, she reached up and scratched him behind the ears, a smile on her face.

Their sudden fear of the young woman increased when she made a sudden Clan gesture that translated into "get down", but for the first time, to them, was being applied to an animal.

The bear wagged his head happily and hunkered down as low as he possibly could. The men could barely keep from cringing in a mixture of amazement and pure terror when Ayla nonchalantly grabbed ahold of his shaggy fur and hoisted herself onto his back, which he obediently accepted!

Ayla could not help but noting the Clan's reaction.

"She is a spirit! She must be--no woman can control Ursus so otherwise!" Broud managed with shaking gestures. Ayla could tell he was very scared at the paranormal event in front of him. And all the other men seemed to be in agreement with their leader.

"Anya and the bear are friends," Ayla motioned, trying to explain. "When she was young, she was attacked by the bear's mother. She managed, singlehandedly, to kill the animal, but not before she got the scars you have seen on her. The cub was orphaned, Anya could not abide to have the animal starve. So she brought him to the Cave until he was grew too big to stay with us, and was able to hunt on his own. She dyes his foot red a few times a year to remind all Zelandonii around here not to hunt him for food. He is a frequent visitor to our cave still, and he and Anya have a special bond. So her totem is fitting for her."

Brun, upon seeing this, barely relaxed. He was awed that a woman could have such a bond with Ursus, and for all the Clan men, it erased any possible doubt in their minds as to her totem. What better proof was there than this?

An idea began to form in Brun's mind, and he wondered if it could even be done for the reason he formulated. But the Clan would benefit from having Ursus so close, and if it meant accepting this woman of the Others into Clan midst, then so be it.....if the Spirits, and Broud, agreed.

****

It did not escape Anya's attention that the men of the Clan were now holding her in fearful, awed regard. She turned her friend away from the group, to the edge of the nearby forest, before she dismounted. The bear happily nudged her for a last scratching before lumbering off.

She returned to the group with a sigh. She saw the regard of the Clan and pride in her parent's eyes, as well as true admiration--and something else--in Echozar's.

Both Brun and Broud had thoughtfulness mixed in with their regard as she passed them to take up her pack again. The other men settled for treating her with the same reverence they would show a top Mog-Ur. She had certainly showed enough magical skill to warrant it.

Anya only hoped it was not going to cross their minds that a woman with so much control over the spirits was dangerous. She knew it went well against their belief system. Women had greater control over the spirit world, so they themselves had to be controlled by the men so a delicate balance would not be upset. She hoped they would not see her as little more than an uncontrolled female that would upset this crucial 'balance'. She was not Clan, they need not worry...should they?

After Brun had silently consulted with Broud, neither seemed too worried about that aspect. A woman out of control to threaten the spirits was one thing. A person, woman or not, who so openly associated with Ursus, who had so much magic, and who the spirits favored so much, was an entirely different matter. Although Broud was shocked at what Brun had suggested, his fear of falling into disfavor with the spirits again won him over to the idea quickly.

Was it possible to make Anya Clan?

The benefits of having her numbered among them would be great--even if the sole reason was to have Ursus truly among them again. Mog-Ur had Ursus, too, but none ever openly associated with him so obviously, openly, and with such spectacular results!

The main problem was, Anya was used to so much freedom that being a woman of the Others gave her. Making her Clan would possibly subject her to the Clan restrictions for women. Plus, she hunted.

Any restrictions on her personal freedoms, both men knew she would flatly refuse to join. And she had the backing of her people. It was difficult, but both men hoped they could find a way...at least the hunting problem could be worked around, as they had done Ayla.

And Broud owed the woman a deep debt. By making her Clan, and yet managing to honor her position her toem afforded her, would hopefully go a long way in reciprocating this debt. Maybe this would help the spirits see it as repayment.

****

Anya could not have been more shocked. Clan! They wanted her to become Clan--be numbered and counted among them as an official member! Anya did not know what to say, and she requested time to think it over, just to get away from Goov and Broud, who had approached her about it.

Ayla was as astonished.

"Anya...." she lamented to her bewildered daughter, feeling a deep surge of emotional pain. "Perhaps you should refuse. Being a member of the Clan would restrict you in ways you would never tolerate in your eyes or behave properly in theirs. I cannot allow you to put yourself through that."

"I cannot believe what they offered me," Anya answered. "They are going to attempt a dangerous rite, Mother. To go under the protection of the most Ancient Spirits, to attempt to free me from the restrictions of Clan women for my own sake. I will be Clan, but I will remain Zelandonii, still live here, my movements unrestricted. They want my spirit, and the spirit of Ursus, with them permanently. As long as I live, if I am adopted into the Clan, they will have this."

"They have....given their word?" Ayla looked at her daughter disbelievingly. A man of the Clan always kept his word, no matter what. If it was true, Ayla was beginning to get an inkling of what it could all mean.

"All of them, even Broud's word as leader. For them, there is almost ne better sealing to a contract than that."

"So are you going to do it?"

"Goov said that he consulted with the spirits, got a favorable response. Perhaps I should. I still don't know why Ursus led me to their group that day I found them unconscious, I only know that perhaps, by doing this, I will find my own destiny and eventually find the core reason for what I did."

"If that is the case, Anya, don't go against the wishes of Doni and Ursus. It could spell disaster."

"Then I'll do it, Mother. Don't worry, I expect everything will be fine."

****

Dressed, for once, in a wrap in the manner of the Clan, Anya lowered herself in the submissive gesture of a woman in front of Goov. Ayla was next to her, also in the deferring posture.

"Anya." Goov's grunt brought their heads up. "The woman's name is Anya." Goov traced the line of red ochre paint down from the middle of Anya's forehead down to the tip of her small, finely chisled nose.

"Anya." It was repeated in a variety of murmures, with a variety of accuracy. It was Anya's Clan naming ceremony, that formally adopted her into the Clan. It was a variation of the one used to accept newborn infants into their midst, and Anya was grateful that her mother did not have to hold her as usual custom dicated. She was by far too big.

Goov now gestured Ayla to stand. In her hands she held a new Clan amulet, to replace the worn one Anya had had since that day when she was six.

Goov gently reached for Anya's arm, turning it over so the tanned inner flesh, and the white scars of her mauling, were exposed. With the same red ochre, he traed the scars that were raked down the length of it. Ayla placed the new amulet over her daughter's head, and Goov made the formal gestures.

Spirit of Ursus, Cave Bear of the Clan, the woman, Anya, is delivered into your protection."

The words, though expected, still sent a shiver down the spines of the watching Clan. Ayla, though she did not dare smile--Clan did not smile--watched her daughter with pride glowing in her eyes.

Suddenly, at least half the candles were blown out. Goov made sharp gestures, ordering all women to leave the Cave, save Anya and Ayna alone. Ayla went reluctantly, but Anya had a faint idea of what was going to happen.

All of this seemed beyond her wildest fantesies. Another time, she would never have considered that anything like this could happen to her--it all had seemed so far away. But this was real, and she knew it.

Once they were gone, Grev, Goov's acolyte, beat out a strange rhythm on an overturned bowl. Anya stifled a gasp as she was forced to her knees, watching Mog-Ur do a strange, gestural dance as he called forth the ancient spirits, the ones that included both male and female names.

Suddenly, Goov stopped, and picked up a knife, approaching her with his eyes grave. She bent her head back willingly, closing her eyes as she waited for the expected sting. She remembered her mother telling her about her hunting ceremony, and she was unafraid.

The expected cut came quickly, a short, sharp jab at the hollow at her throat's base. She did not have to look to see it was rabbi-skin placed against the wound where her blood flowed, the texture was familiar.

Grev beat out an even faster rhyhm as Mog-Ur removed the skin. Anya did not even flinch as she felt the antiseptic solution sting her--it was one test of her bravery.

Mog-Ur began to chant again as he flung the rabbit-skin directly into the flames of he fire. Herein was a difference--Ayla's mother had told her that *her* rabbit skin had been burned in a bowl. If her rabbit skin was being fed directly to the fire, then the danger to them all had to be extreme for them to attempt such a risk as they were doing to her now.

Goov's hands made an imposing dance, as he chanted, begging the spirits to heed their call, to accept the sacrifice and allow Anya to be one of the rare female Clan hunters, one of the chosen few that would ever be permitted to follow the ancient path of the days, long gone, when women of the Clan hunted. He begged that, as a Clan woman, she be allowed to do this for the sake of her totem and background. No other woman could be permitted thus, but she was a special case.

Her heart beat faster, her whole body began to tingle to the rhythm of Grev's beats as Goov went into a frantic dance, begging and pleading with the Most Ancient Spirits to recognize the girl as an honorary male, and to treat her with all the priveleges that came with that standing.

Hypnotized, it was not until then that Anya got an inkling of how painful this was for them. It was not in their memories, Clan women simply did not do this. Change was so hard and painful it had to take strong motivation for them to change or add to these memories--and their desire to be close to Ursus was so strong that in this case, they were willing to take this enormous risk, even if the chosen was a woman.

Anya felt herself held down again, her head held back as a strange liquid was forced down her throat. It took everything she had not to gag.

Datura. She recognized that in it, but there was other substances she could not recognize--her mother would not know them, if they were part of a man's memories, not Iza's medicine woman memories.

Without flinching, again, she swallowed the bitter concoction. Almost instantly, a dizzying euphoria swept over her drugged mind, and her arms and legs began to tremble. She was vaguely aware of the other men drinking the same liquid, but the buzzing in her brain grew more intense, until she was aware of little else. She could only follow their lead when the men got up and began a frantic dance, as Grev beat out the rhythm faster and faster.

Dimly, as she joined them, she realized that they, like she, had no real control over their movements as they moved to a beat eons old, a sound that reached down through the generations to test their mettle, a secret manhood rite that she had no idea existed.

the presence of the spirits seemed to grow stronger within her mind, and she was certain that she could see the faint outlines of their invisible bodies dancing within the smoke, from the flames of the sacred fire. Acceptance swelled within her, she knew it was a positive sign to go on.

All she could do was dance faster and faster as she experienced this test of strength and endurance. It was a test, to see if she was worthy enough to keep up with the rest.

She was grateful she was at the peak of her physical fitness as she whirled faster and faster. One by one, exhausted, the men dropped. On and on the rest danced, testing her mettle, but she did not stop.

At last, it was between her and Mog-Ur. The exhausted men were impressed, she had earned their respect well. If she dropped now, there would be no shame.

Mog-Ur was still dancing because of his control of his body and of his connection between the spirit world. Even he was beginning to tire, but Anya displayed a stubborness beyond measure, and continued on her course of whirling and foot-stomping. At last, even Mog-Ur could not tolerate any more and he, too, fell. Anya danced for another full five minuts before her knees gave way and she collapsed, tired mirth in her eyes.

****

It made them hold her in more awe than ever. She had outdistanced, outdone the holy man. No person had ever before beaten a Mog-Ur at this feat--and yet a woman could, and a woman of the Others, at that. It showed how pleased the spirits were with them, that they had made the right decision, and the spirits were in favor of it. When he got strength back enough to talk, it was Brun who addressed her.

"Anya, you are now a woman and hunter of the Clan. You have been accepted by the Spirits, and they were pleased by the suggestion of making you honorary male, as benefitting your totem. You are a Clan medicine woman also, it was done when Mog-Ur named your spirit.

"As benefitting your new status in the Clan, you will be allowed into a man's activities and domanin, and will be permitted to remain among the Zelandonii, as well, because you are them, too. But also with your new status comes the responsiblity of all men of the Clan. That includes not revealing our sacred ceremonies to Clan women--you are forbidden to mention to them what just now transpired, or any other male ceremony. As your status now benefits you, you are permitted to view our sacred ceremonies as an honorary male, you now stand as our equal. I urge you not to abuse this privelege, lest you anger the spirits. With someon of your power displeases the spirits, they could find themselves more than banished. Do you agree to this?"

"I agree." was her simple gesture.

"I am glad you do so willingly. You are both a woman and a man, as your status conveys, you have the right to use the Clan women as you see fit to serve you, and you are not bound by the restricions placed on their lives. I have you my word of honor on this, we all did, and we will stand by it."

Anya nodded, but knew he was not finished. "And about my being a woman?"

"I understand that the women of the Others do not seclude themselvs during their moon times like Clan women. And the men of the Others say this does nod adversely affect them in any way. Because your totem will protect both us and you from your battling totemic influences, you will not be required to seclude yourself. However, as a woman, even with such control over the spirits as you posess, could be in danger of getting out of conrol during your moon times. You do not have to restrict yourself except in a few ways: You will be forbidden to touch a Clan men's weapons during your flow, and you will not be permitted to enter a sacred ceremony of the Men when your totem battles. Such an action could bring disaster on us if you do; a woman is just too powerful during this time with evil influences. Do you agree to these restrictions?"

"I do." Anya really did not care much about what the men did, though she was curious. She also wondered if these restrictions extended to her mother as well. Her motehr was only acting with the freedoms of an Others woman because she had he backing of the Others behind her. Anya decided not to worry about it as she rose and left the cave to where Anya anxiously waited.

When Ayla saw the cut at the base of her daughter's neck, she smiled in relief. She knew that things would go well for her daughter, now.

Little did they know that this was only the beginning. The excitement of the past several days had only begun, and Anya had only an inkling that their lives had changed forever.