The Shelters of Stone by Jean M. Auel Page A

all right. She could say whatever she wanted about the Clan. He would stay with her. He loved her. She smiled back, her big wonderful smile, full of love.
    Jondalar, too, had seen where Zelandoni’s questions were leading, and much to his own surprise, he didn’t care. At one time he had been so concerned about what his family and his people would think of this woman, and what they might think of him for bringing her home with him, he almost gave her up, almost lost her. Now, it didn’t matter. As much as he cared about them, as glad as he was to see them, if his own family wouldn’t accept her along with him, then he’d leave. It was Ayla he loved. Together, they had much to offer. Several Caves had already asked them to stay and live with them, including Dalanar’s Lanzadonii. He was sure they could find a home—somewhere.
    The donier knew something had passed between Ayla and Jondalar, some kind of approval or affirmation. It made her curious, but she had learned that observation and patience often satisfied her curiosity better than questions.
    Ayla turned to look at Zelandoni to answer. “Creb was mog-ur of Bran’s clan, the one who knew the spirit world, but he was more than just mog-ur. He was like you, Zelandoni, he was First, The Mog-ur of the whole Clan. But to me, Creb was … man of my hearth, though I wasn’t born there, and the woman he lived with, Iza, was his sibling, not his mate. Creb never had mate.”
    “Who or what is the Clan?” Zelandoni asked. She noticed that Ayla’s accent got thicker when she spoke of them.
    “The Clan is … I was … adopted by the Clan. They are the ones who took me in when I was … alone. Creb and Iza took care of me, raised me. Iza was mother, only mother I remember. And she was medicine woman, healer. Iza was First, too, in a way. She was most respected of all medicine women, as her mother and her grandmother had been, all the way back in unbroken line to beginning of Clan.”
    “Is that where you learned your healing skills?” Zelandoni asked, leaning forward on the cushions.
    “Yes. Iza taught me, even though I wasn’t her true daughter, and didn’t have her memories like Uba did. Uba was my sister. Not a true sibling, but still my sister.”
    “What happened to your real mother, your family, the people you were born to?” Zelandoni wanted to know. Everyone was curious, fascinated, but they let her ask the questions.
    Ayla sat back and looked up, as though trying to und an answer. Then she looked at the large woman who was regarding her so intently. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I was young, Iza guessed that I could count five years … although they didn’t have counting words like Zelandomi. The Clan named the years beginning as babies. The first was the birthing year, then the nursing year, the weaning year, and so on. I put it into counting words,” she tried to explain. Then she stopped. She couldn’t explain everything, tell her whole life with the Clan. It would be better to just answer the questions.
    “You don’t remember anything about your own people?” Zelandoni pressed.
    “I only know what Iza told me. An earthquake had destroyed their cave, and Brun’s clan was looking for a new one when she found me beside a river, unconscious. They had been without a home for some time, but Brun allowed her to take me with them. She said I must have been attacked by a cave lion because there were four claw marks on my leg, with the wide spacing of a cave lion, and they were … running, poisoned, corrupted,” Ayla tried to find the right words.
    “Yes, I understand,” the donier said. “Festered, suppurant, perhaps to the stage of morbid corruption. Cat claws tend to do that.”
    “I still have the scars. That’s how Creb knew the Cave Lion was my totem, even though it’s usually a man’s totem. I still dream sometimes of being in a small dark place and seeing a big cat claw coming,” Ayla said.
    “That’s a