"Did you know that Matagan's mother told me Brukeval was at the camp of the Fifth Cave trying to convince some people to make an objection to Joplaya's mating before the Matrimonial?" Ayla said. "He has a strong feeling against the Clan, but seeing him and Echozar together, you can see the resemblance. There is a cast to his features that is definitely Clan, not as strong as Echozar's, but it is there. I think he hates me now because I said his mother was born of mixed spirits, but I was just trying to say that people who are mixed are not bad, not abominations."

"He must still think they are. That's why he tries so hard to deny it. It must be terrible to hate what you are," Jondalar said. "You can't change that. It's funny. Echozar hates the Clan, too. Why do they hate the people that they are a part of?"

"Maybe it's because other people hurt them because of who they are, and they can't hide it because they actually do look different," Ayla said. "But the way Brukeval glared at me before he left was so full of hate, he frightens me. He reminds me a little of Attaroa, as though there is something not right with him. As though there is something wrong or deformed about him, like Lanidar with his arm, but on the inside."

"Maybe some evil spirit has gotten inside of him, or his elan is twisted," Jondalar said. "I don't know, but perhaps you should watch out for Brukeval, Ayla. He may try to make more trouble for you."

Chapter 36

The summer waxed, and the days became hotter. The grasses of the fields grew tall and turned golden, their heads nodding with the weight of their seed-the promise of new life. Ayla's body grew heavy, too, filled with the new life of her unborn child. She was working beside Jondalar, pulling seeds from wild oats, when she felt movement for the first time. She stopped and pressed her hand to her bulging middle. Jondalar saw the motion.

"What's wrong, Ayla?" he asked with a worried frown.

"I just felt the baby move. It's the first time I've felt life!" she said. She seemed to be smiling inwardly. "Here," she said, taking the winnowing stone from Jondalar's large hand and placing his hand on her stomach. "Maybe the baby will move again."

He waited expectantly, but felt nothing. "I don't feel anything," he finally said. Just then there was a small movement under his hand, barely a ripple. "I felt it! I felt the baby!" he said.

"The movement will get stronger later," Ayla said. "Isn't it wonderful, Jondalar? What would you like the baby to be? A boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't matter. I just want the baby to be healthy, and I want you to have an easy birthing. What do you want your baby to be?" he asked.

"I think I'd like a girl, but I'd be just as happy with a boy. It doesn't really matter. I just want a baby, your baby. It is your baby, too."

"Hey, you two. The Fifth Cave is sure to win if you keep loafing like that." They turned to watch a young man approaching. He was average height, with a compact, wiry build. He walked with a crutch under one arm, carrying a skin of water with his other. "Would you like some water?" he said.

"Hello, Matagan! It's hot, this water is welcome," Jondalar said, taking the bag, lifting it over his head, and letting the water pour from the spout into his mouth. "How is the leg?" he said, handing the waterbag to Ayla.

"Getting stronger all the time. I may be able to throw this stick away before long," he answered, smiling. "I'm only supposed to be carrying water for the Fifth Cave, but I saw my favorite healer and thought I'd cheat a little. How are you feeling, Ayla?"

"I'm fine. I felt life for the first time a little while ago. The baby is growing," she said. "Who do you think is ahead?"

"It's hard to say. The Fourteenth has several basketfuls already, but the Third just located a new large stand."

"How about the Ninth?" Jondalar asked.

"I think they have a chance, but I'll wager on the Fifth," the young man replied.

"You're biased. You just want the prizes." Jondalar laughed. "What did the Fifth Cave donate this year?"

"The dried meat from two aurochs killed at the first hunt, a dozen spears, and a large wooden bowl carved by our best carver. What about the Ninth?"

"A large skin of Marthona's wine, five birch spear-throwers with carvings, five firestones, and two of Salova's large baskets, one filled with hazelnuts, the other with tart apples," Jondalar replied.

"It's Marthona's wine I'm going to try for, if the Fifth wins. I hope the bones are lucky for me. Once I can get rid of this stick," he lifted the crutch, "I'm going to move back into the men's tent. I think I could move back now, stick or not, but my mother doesn't want me to go yet. She has been wonderful, no one could have cared more, but now I'm getting a little too much mothering. You'd think I was five years old ever since the accident," he said.

"You can't blame her," Ayla said.

"I don't blame her. I understand. I just want to get back to the men's tent. I'd even invite you to the party we'd have with the wine, if you weren't mated, Jondalar."

"Thanks anyway, but I've had enough of men's tents. Someday, when you're older, you'll find out that being mated isn't as bad as you think," Jondalar said.

"But you've already got the woman I want," the young man said, casting a teasing glance at Ayla. "If I had her, I'd be willing to move out of the men's tent, too. When I saw her at your Matrimonial, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. I could hardly believe my eyes. I think every man thought so and wished he were in your place, Jondalar."

Though in the beginning Matagan was shy around Ayla, he lost his uneasiness after getting to know her during the many days she went to the zelandonia lodge to assist in his care. Then his natural outgoing friendliness and developing easy charm began to express themselves.

"Listen to him," Ayla said, smiling and patting her protruding middle. "Some 'beautiful.' An old woman with a belly full."

"That makes you more beautiful than ever. And I like older women. I may mate one someday, if I can find one like you," Matagan said.

Jondalar smiled at the young man, who reminded him of Thonolan. It was obvious he was infatuated with Ayla, but he was going to be a charmer someday, and he might need it if he ended up being permanently lame. Jondalar didn't mind if he practiced a little on Ayla. He had once been in love with an older woman, too.

"And you are my favorite healer." His eyes turned more serious. "I woke up a few times when I was being carried on the stretcher, and I thought I was dreaming when saw you. I thought you were a beautiful donii come to take me to the Great Mother. I'm sure you saved my life, Ayla, and I don't think I'd be walking at all if it weren't for you."

"I just happened to be there, and did what I could," Ayla said.

"That may be, but you know, if there is ever anything you need…" He looked down, his face flushed with embarrassment. He was having trouble saying what he wanted to say. He looked at her again. "If there is ever anything I can do for you, you only have to ask."

"I remember a time when I thought Ayla was a donii," Jondalar said to ease his distress. "Did you know she sewed my skin together? On our Journey, I can remember a time when an entire S’Armunai Camp thought she was the Mother Herself, a living donii come to help Her children. For all I know, maybe she is, the way men fall in love with her."

"Jondalar! Don't fill him full of such nonsense," Ayla said. "And we'd better get back to work, or the Ninth Cave will lose. Not only that, but I want to keep some of this grain for a couple of horses, and maybe for a new foal. I'm glad we collected so much rye when it ripened, but the horses like oats better."