Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel Page B

wouldn’t be alive. She would have been killed by that cave lion. The thought crystallized in his mind. The cave lion! It attacked her, but it did not kill … or did it attack? Was it testing her? Then another thought burst through and a chill of recognition crept up his spine. All doubt was swept out of his mind. He was sure. Not even Brun can doubt it, he thought. The cave lion had marked her with four parallel grooves in her left thigh, scars she would carry for the rest of her life. At a manhood ceremony, when Mog-ur carved the mark of a young man’s totem on his body,
the mark for a Cave Lion was four parallel lines carved into the thigh!
    On a male, they are marked on the right thigh; but she is female, and the marks are the same. Of course! Why hadn’t he realized it before? The lion knew it would be difficult for the clan to accept, so he marked her himself, but so clearly, no one could mistake it. And he marked her with Clan totem marks. The Cave Lion wanted the Clan to know. He wants her to live with us. He took her people so she would have to live with us. Why? The magician was jarred by a feeling of uneasiness, the same feeling he had experienced after the ceremony the day she was found. If he’d had a concept for it, he would have called it a sense of foreboding, yet tinged with a strange unnerving hope.
    Mog-ur shook it off. Never had a totem come so strongly to him before; that was what unnerved him, he thought. The Cave Lion is her totem. He chose her, just as Ursus chose me. Mog-ur looked into the dark empty eye sockets of the skull in front of him. With profound acceptance, he marveled at the ways of the spirits, once they were understood. It was all so clear now. He was relieved—and overwhelmed. Why should this small girl have need of such powerful protection?

5
    Black-leafed trees waved and fluttered in the twilight breeze, dancing silhouettes against a darkening sky. The camp was quiet, settling down for the night. By the dim glow of hot coals, Iza checked the contents of several small pouches spread out in orderly rows on her cloak, glancing up now and then in the direction she had seen Creb leave. She was concerned about him off by himself in unfamiliar woods without weapons to defend himself. The child was already asleep, and the woman grew more worried as the daylight waned.
    Earlier, she had inspected the vegetation growing around the cave, wanting to know the availability of plants to replenish and enlarge her pharmacopoeia. She always carried certain things with her in the otter-skin bag, but to her, the small pouches of dried leaves, flowers, roots, seeds, and barks in her medicine bag were only first aid. In the new cave she would have room for greater quantity and variety. She never went far without her medicine bag, though. It was as much a part of her as her wrap. More. She would have felt naked without her medicines, not without her wrap.
    Iza finally saw the old magician hobbling back, and relieved, she jumped up to put the food saved for him on the fire to warm and started water boiling for his favorite herb tea. He shuffled up, then eased himself down by her side as she was putting her small pouches into the larger one.
    “How is the child tonight?” he motioned.
    “Resting easier. Her pain is nearly gone. She asked for you,” Iza replied.
    Creb grunted, inwardly pleased. “Make an amulet for her in the morning, Iza.”
    The woman bowed her head in acknowledgment, then she jumped up again to check the food and water. She had to move. She was so happy, she couldn’t sit still. Ayla isgoing to stay. Creb must have talked to her totem, Iza thought, her heart beating with excitement. The mothers of the two babies had made amulets that day. They were very obvious about it so everyone would know their children would learn their totems at the cave ceremony. It presaged good luck for them and the two women were almost strutting with pride. Was that why Creb was gone so long? It must