"That can only be your decision, Creb," she replied. She didn't try to talk him out of it. She knew he had no heart for it anymore, since the day he laid the death curse on Ayla, though it had been his entire life.

"It's past the time, isn't it, Creb?" Iza asked.

"Yes, it's past the time, Iza."

"How would she know it's past the time? No one could see the moon with that storm."

Creb thought about the time he showed a small girl how to count the years until she could have a baby, and about the older one who counted the days of the moon's cycle herself. "If she were alive, she'd know, Iza."

"But the storm was so bad. No one could go out in it."

"Don't think about it. Ayla is dead."

"I know it, Creb," Iza said with hopeless gestures. Creb looked at his sibling, thought about her grief, and wanted to give her something, some gesture of understanding.

"I shouldn't say this, Iza, but it's past the time; her spirit has left this world and the evil ones, too. There's no harm anymore. Her spirit talked to me before it left, Iza. It said she loved me. It was so real, I almost gave in to it. But the spirit of a cursed one is the most dangerous. It always tries to trick you into believing it is real so it can take you with it. I almost wish I had gone."

"I know, Creb. When her spirit called me mother, I...I ..." Iza flung up her hands, she couldn't go on.

"Her spirit pleaded with me not to burn the medicine bag, Iza. Water came to its eyes, just like when she was alive. That was the worst. I think if I hadn't already thrown it in the fire, I would have given it to her. It was the last trick, though. That's when it finally left."

Creb got up, wrapped himself in his fur, and reached for his staff. Iza watched him; he seldom left the hearth anymore. He walked to the cave entrance and stood for a long time, staring out at the glistening snow. He didn't return until Iza sent Uba to tell him to come and eat. He returned to his post shortly afterward. Iza joined him later.

"It's cold here, Creb. You shouldn't stand in the wind like that," she motioned.

"It's the first time there's been a clear sky for days. It's a relief to see something besides a howling blizzard."

"Yes, but come to the fire and get warm once in a while."

Creb hobbled back and forth from his hearth to the entrance several times, standing for long periods looking out at the winter scene. But as the day wore on, he went there less and less. At the evening meal, when twilight was fading into darkness, he motioned to Iza. "I'm going over to Brun's hearth after we finish eating. I'm going to tell him that Goov will be mog-ur from now on."

"Yes, Creb," she said with bowed head. It was hopeless. Now she was sure it was hopeless.

Creb stood up while Iza was putting the food away. Suddenly a frightened scream came from Brun's hearth. Iza looked up. A strange apparition stood at the entrance to the cave, completely covered with snow and stamping its feet.

"Creb," Iza cried. "What is it?"

Creb stared hard for a moment, on guard against strange spirits. Then his eye opened wide.

"It's Ayla!" he shouted and hobbled toward her; forgetting his staff, forgetting his dignity, and forgetting every custom against showing emotions outside one's hearth, he threw his arm around the girl and hugged her to his breast.

17*

"Ayla? Is it really Ayla, Creb? It's not her spirit?" Iza motioned as the old man led the snow-covered girl back to his hearth. She was afraid to believe it, afraid the very real-looking girl would turn out to be a mirage.

"It's Ayla," Creb gestured. "It's past the time. She has overcome the evil spirits; she has returned to us."

"Ayla!" Iza ran to her, arms open wide, and enfolded the girl in a fierce loving embrace, wet snow and all. Not only snow made them wet. Ayla cried enough tears of joy for all of them. Uba tugged at the girl as she was clenched in Iza's arms.

"Ayla. Ayla come back. Uba know Ayla not dead!" the child a.s.serted with the conviction of one who knew she was right all along. Ayla picked her up and held her so tight, Uba squirmed to get loose and catch her breath.

"You wet!" Uba motioned when she could get her arms free.

"Ayla, take off those wet clothes!" Iza said, and bustled around adding wood to the fire and finding something for the girl to wear, as much to cover the intensity of her emotions as to express maternal concern. "You'll catch your death of cold."

Iza glanced at the girl with embarra.s.sment, suddenly realizing what she had said. The girl smiled.

"You're right, mother. I will catch cold," she gestured, and removed her wrap and hood. She sat down and began struggling to loosen the wet, swollen bindings of her footwear.

"I'm starved. Is there anything to eat? I haven't eaten all day," she said after she had put on one of Iza's old wraps. It was a little small and too short, but it was dry. "I would have been back earlier, but I got caught in an avalanche coming down the mountain. I was lucky I didn't get buried under too much snow, but it took a long time to dig my way out."

Iza's amazement lasted only a moment. Ayla could have said she walked through fire to return and Iza would have believed it. Her return itself was proof enough of her invincibility. What could one little avalanche do to her? The woman reached for Ayla's fur to hang it up to dry, but pulled her hand back suddenly, eyeing the unfamiliar deer hide suspiciously.

"Where did you get this wrap, Ayla?" she asked.

"I made it."

"Is it...is it of this world?" the woman inquired apprehensively. Ayla smiled again.

"Very much of this world. Did you forget? I know how to hunt."

"Don't say that, Ayla!" Iza said nervously. She turned her back so the clan she knew was watching wouldn't see, and gestured inconspicuously. "You don't have a sling, do you?"

"No, I left it behind. But that doesn't change anything. Everyone knows it, Iza. I had to do something after Creb burned everything. The only way to get a wrap is to hunt. Fur doesn't grow on willows, or fir, either."

Creb had been watching silently, hardly daring to believe she was really back. There were stories of people returning after a death curse, but he still didn't believe it was possible. There's something different about her; she's changed. She's more confident, more grown up. No wonder, after what she's been through. She remembers, too. She knows I burned her things. I wonder what else she remembers? What is it like in the world of the spirits?

"Spirits!" he motioned, suddenly remembering. The bones are still set! I must go break the curse.

Creb hurried away to break the pattern of cave bear bones still set in the form of a death curse. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the torch burning outside the crack in the wall and went in, and gaped in surprise when he came to the small room beyond the short pa.s.sage. The skull of the cave bear had moved, the long bone no longer protruded through the eye socket, the pattern was already broken.

Many small rodents shared the cave of the clan, drawn by the stored food and warmth. One of them had likely brushed past or jumped on the skull, tipping it over. Creb shuddered slightly, made a sign of protection, then moved the bones back to the pile at the far end. As he walked out, he saw Brun waiting for him.

"Brun," Mog-ur gestured when he saw the man. "I can't believe it. You know I haven't been in here since I laid the curse. No one has. I just went in to break it, but it was already broken." His expression held a look of wonder and awe.

"What do you think happened?"

"It must have been her totem. It's past the time; maybe he broke it so she could return," the magician answered.

"You must be right." The leader started to make another motion, then hesitated.

"Did you want to speak to me, Brun?"

"I want to talk to you alone." He hesitated again. "Excuse my intrusion. I looked into your hearth. The girl's return was a surprise."

Every member of the clan had broken the custom of averting eyes to avoid looking into another's hearth. They couldn't help it. They had never seen someone who had returned from the dead before.

"It's understandable, under the circ.u.mstances. You don't have to be concerned," Mog-ur replied and started to move on.

"That's not what I wanted to see you about," Brun said, putting out a hand to detain the old magician. "I want to ask you about ceremonies." Mog-ur waited expectantly, watching Brun grope for words. "A ceremony now that she's back."

"No ceremonies are necessary, the danger is over. The evil ones are gone, there's no need for protection."

"I don't mean that kind of ceremony."

"What kind do you mean?"

Brun hesitated again, then started in a new direction. "I watched her talking to you and Iza. Do you notice a difference in her, Mog-ur?"

"What do you mean, a difference?" Mog-ur signaled warily, unsure of Brun's intent.

"She has a strong totem; Droog always said she was lucky. He thinks her totem brings us luck, too. He might be right. She would never have come back without luck and strong protection. I think she knows it, now. That's what I meant by different."

"Yes, I think I noticed a difference like that. But I still don't understand what it has to do with ceremonies."

"Remember the meeting we had after the mammoth hunt?"

"You mean when you were questioning her?"

"No, the one after, without her. I've been thinking about that meeting ever since she left. I didn't think she would come back, but I knew if she did, it would mean her totem is very strong, even more powerful than we thought. I've been thinking about what we should do if she did come back."

"What we should do? There's nothing we have to do. The evil spirits are gone, Brun. She's back, but she's no different than she always was. She's just a girl, nothing has changed."

"But what if I want to change something? Is there a ceremony for that?"

Mog-ur was puzzled. "A ceremony for what? You don't need a ceremony to change the way you act toward her. What kind of change? I can't tell you about ceremonies if I don't know what they're for."

"Her totem is a clan totem, too, isn't it? Shouldn't we try to keep all the totems happy? I want you to hold a ceremony, Mog-ur, but you have to tell me if there is such a ceremony."

"Brun, you're not making sense."

Brun threw up his hands, abandoning his attempt to communicate. While Ayla was gone, he'd had the time to mull over the many new ideas some of the men had put forth. But the disconcerting result of his musings intruded uncomfortably into the clan leader's mind.

"The whole thing doesn't make sense, how can I make sense out of it? Whoever expected her to come back, anyway? I don't understand spirits, I never have. I don't know what they want, that's what you're here for. But you're not much help! The whole idea is ridiculous anyway. I'd better think about it again."

Brun turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving behind a very confused magician. He turned back after a few steps.

"Tell the girl I want to see her," he signaled and continued on to his hearth.

Creb shook his head as he returned to his own hearth. "Brun wants to see Ayla," he announced when he got back.

"Did he say he wanted to see her right away?" Iza asked, pushing more food in front of her. "He won't mind if she finishes eating, will he?"

"I'm through, mother. I can't eat another bite. I'll go now."

Ayla walked to the next hearth and sat at the feet of the leader of the clan with her head bowed. He had on the same foot coverings that were worn and creased in the same places. The last time she had looked at those feet, she was terrified. She was no longer terrified. To her surprise, she didn't fear Brun at all, but she respected him more. She waited. It seemed to be taking an extraordinarily long time for him to acknowledge her. Finally, she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up.

"I see you're back, Ayla," he began lamely. He didn't quite know what to say.

"Yes, Brun."

"I'm surprised to see you. I didn't expect it."

"This girl did not expect to be back, either."

Brun was at a loss. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't know what to say, and he didn't know how to end the audience he had requested. Ayla waited, then made a gesture of request.

"This girl would speak, Brun."

"You may speak."

She hesitated, trying to find the right expression to say what she wanted to say.

"This girl is glad to be back, Brun. More than once I was frightened, more than once I was sure I would never return."

Brun grunted. I'm sure of that, he thought.

"It was difficult, but I think my totem protected me. At first, there was so much work to do, I didn't have much time to think. But after I was trapped, I didn't have much else to do."

Work? Trapped? What kind of world is the spirit world? Brun almost asked her, then changed his mind. He didn't really want to know.

"I think I began to understand something then."

Ayla stopped, still groping. She wanted to express a feeling that was akin to grat.i.tude, but not the way grat.i.tude was normally felt, not grat.i.tude that carried a sense of obligation or the kind a woman usually expressed to a man. She wanted to say something to him as a person, she wanted to tell him she understood. She wanted to say thank you, thank you for giving me a chance, but she didn't quite know how.

"Brun, this girl is...is grateful to you. You said that to me. You said you were grateful for Brac's life. I am grateful to you for my own."

Brun leaned back and studied the girl-tall, flat-faced, blue-eyed. The last thing he expected was her grat.i.tude. He had cursed her. But she didn't say she was grateful for the death curse, he thought, she said she was grateful for her life. Did she understand he had no choice? Did she understand he had given her the only chance he could? Did this strange girl understand that more than his hunters, more even than Mog-ur? Yes, he decided, she does understand. For an instant, Brun had a feeling toward Ayla he'd never before had toward a woman. At that moment, he wished she were a man. He didn't have to think any more about what he wanted to ask Mog-ur. He knew.

"I don't know what they're planning, I don't think the rest of the hunters even know," Ebra was saying. "All I know is I've never seen Brun so nervous."

The women were sitting together preparing food for a feast. They didn't know the reason for the feast-Brun just told them to prepare a feast that night-and they plied Iza and Ebra with questions trying to get some hint.

"Mog-ur has been spending all day and half the night in the place of the spirits. It must be a ceremony. While Ayla was gone, he wouldn't go near it; now he hardly ever comes out," Iza commented. "When he does, he's so absentminded he forgets to eat. Sometimes he forgets to eat while he's eating."

"But if they're having a ceremony, why did Brun work half a day clearing out a s.p.a.ce in back of the cave?" Ebra motioned. "When I offered to do it, he chased me away. They have their place for ceremonies; why would he work like a woman clearing out the back?"

"What else could it be?" Iza asked. "Seems like every time I look, Brun and Mog-ur have their heads together. And if they notice me, they stop talking and have guilty looks on their faces. What else could those two be planning? And why are we having a feast tonight? Mog-ur's been back in that s.p.a.ce Brun cleared out all day. Sometimes he goes into the place of the spirits, but he comes right back out again. It looks like he's carrying something, but it's so dark back there I can't tell."

Ayla was just enjoying the companionship. After five days, it was still hard for her to believe she was back in the cave of the clan sitting with the women preparing food just as though she had never been away. It wasn't exactly the same. The women were not entirely comfortable around her. They thought she had been dead; her return to life was nothing less than miraculous. They didn't know what to say to someone who had gone to the world of the spirits and returned. Ayla didn't mind, she was just glad to be back. She watched Brac toddling up to his mother to nurse.

"How's Brac's arm, Oga?" she asked the young mother sitting beside her.

"See for yourself, Ayla." She opened his wrap and showed Ayla his arm and shoulder. "Iza took the cast off the day before you came back. His arm is just fine, except a little thinner than the other one. Iza says once he starts using it again, it will get stronger."

Ayla looked at the healed wounds and felt the bone gently while the sober, big-eyed boy stared at her. The women had been careful to steer away from subjects that were remotely connected with Ayla's curse. Often someone would begin a conversation, then drop her hands in mid-sentence seeing where it was leading. It tended to stifle the warm communication that was usual when the women gathered together to work.