cold,” she said.
“Poor little minnow.” She was shivering and he rubbed his hands up and down her back to warm her. His hand looked very dark against her ivory skin. “Come on, get into your shirt and you’ll feel warmer.” She held up her arms and let him pull it over her head. Her damp hair hung down her back, and he raked his fingers through it as he had done with his own and braided it for her.
“Make sure you put a comb through it when you get home,” he ordered. “You have very pretty hair, if only you would take care of it.”
She looked up at him. Her long dark lashes were stuck together with wet. “Guess what I found yesterday, Ronan. A baby scimitar cat.”
He groaned. “Not another orphan, Nel.”
“She is very sweet,” Nel assured him. Her mouth looked suddenly tragic. “But I am afraid that Olma will not let me bring her home.”
Ronan sighed. “I suppose I could fix you some place to keep her.”
Her smile was radiant. “Thank you, Ronan.”
He shook his head, put a hand on the nape of her neck, and walked her back to the camp.
* * * *
Summer came, the reindeer and red deer migrated into the higher pastures, and the hunters of the tribe moved to their summer camp on the Narrow River the better to hunt them. As usual, the Mistress remained at the tribe’s permanent homesite, but for the first time Morna was old enough to accompany the men and the initiated girls.
There was something about the air in the higher altitudes that Ronan particularly loved. It was so clear. One time, during Antelope Moon, he had gone with Neihle through the Buffalo Pass into the valley of the Atata River to trade with the men of the Tribe of the Buffalo, and he had found the heights of the pass wonderfully exhilarating.
The Tribe of the Buffalo followed the Way of Sky God, and Ronan had carefully watched the workings of the tribe during the two days that he and Neihle spent in its caves. Ronan found many of their ways extremely strange. Part of him was excited to see the obvious dominance of the men of the tribe, and part of him was deeply puzzled. Even though the men ruled, he thought they seemed to be missing many of life’s greatest pleasures.
The young unmarried girls, the ones Neihle had obviously brought him to see, were kept separated from the men. They did not mate until they were wed, Ronan was told. The reason for this was that the men of the Buffalo wished to ensure the paternity of their children. Ronan held his tongue, but privately he thought that the men of the Buffalo were fools, What did it matter if another man had fathered your wife’s first child? What Ronan did not understand was that the men of the Red Deer had a different relationship with their children than did the men of the Buffalo. As in all matrilineal societies, a Red Deer child belonged to its mother, whereas a Buffalo child, coming from a patrilineal society, belonged to its father. These differing outlooks accounted for very different attitudes about the importance of a child’s paternity.
* * * *
Summer passed too quickly. The nights were coming faster, and frost had already descended on the highest pastures, when Neihle sought his nephew out one afternoon to invite him to make a return trip to the Tribe of the Buffalo.
“Haras, the chief, has several girls who will need husbands this year,” Neihle said. “I am thinking, Ronan, that you would be happy in the Buffalo tribe.”
Ronan looked up from the hare he was skinning. The two men were alone in front of the big upper cave, and when Ronan did not reply, Neihle added, “The Mistress will give you a good bride price.”
At that, Ronan’s mouth quirked humorlessly. “I am sure of that, Uncle.” He put down his flint knife and rose to his feet. “I am not so sure that I wish to leave my own tribe, however.”
Neihle’s voice was gentle. “I am thinking you will have to, lad, sooner or later.”
Ronan was staring down at his bloody hands.
“Poor little minnow.” She was shivering and he rubbed his hands up and down her back to warm her. His hand looked very dark against her ivory skin. “Come on, get into your shirt and you’ll feel warmer.” She held up her arms and let him pull it over her head. Her damp hair hung down her back, and he raked his fingers through it as he had done with his own and braided it for her.
“Make sure you put a comb through it when you get home,” he ordered. “You have very pretty hair, if only you would take care of it.”
She looked up at him. Her long dark lashes were stuck together with wet. “Guess what I found yesterday, Ronan. A baby scimitar cat.”
He groaned. “Not another orphan, Nel.”
“She is very sweet,” Nel assured him. Her mouth looked suddenly tragic. “But I am afraid that Olma will not let me bring her home.”
Ronan sighed. “I suppose I could fix you some place to keep her.”
Her smile was radiant. “Thank you, Ronan.”
He shook his head, put a hand on the nape of her neck, and walked her back to the camp.
* * * *
Summer came, the reindeer and red deer migrated into the higher pastures, and the hunters of the tribe moved to their summer camp on the Narrow River the better to hunt them. As usual, the Mistress remained at the tribe’s permanent homesite, but for the first time Morna was old enough to accompany the men and the initiated girls.
There was something about the air in the higher altitudes that Ronan particularly loved. It was so clear. One time, during Antelope Moon, he had gone with Neihle through the Buffalo Pass into the valley of the Atata River to trade with the men of the Tribe of the Buffalo, and he had found the heights of the pass wonderfully exhilarating.
The Tribe of the Buffalo followed the Way of Sky God, and Ronan had carefully watched the workings of the tribe during the two days that he and Neihle spent in its caves. Ronan found many of their ways extremely strange. Part of him was excited to see the obvious dominance of the men of the tribe, and part of him was deeply puzzled. Even though the men ruled, he thought they seemed to be missing many of life’s greatest pleasures.
The young unmarried girls, the ones Neihle had obviously brought him to see, were kept separated from the men. They did not mate until they were wed, Ronan was told. The reason for this was that the men of the Buffalo wished to ensure the paternity of their children. Ronan held his tongue, but privately he thought that the men of the Buffalo were fools, What did it matter if another man had fathered your wife’s first child? What Ronan did not understand was that the men of the Red Deer had a different relationship with their children than did the men of the Buffalo. As in all matrilineal societies, a Red Deer child belonged to its mother, whereas a Buffalo child, coming from a patrilineal society, belonged to its father. These differing outlooks accounted for very different attitudes about the importance of a child’s paternity.
* * * *
Summer passed too quickly. The nights were coming faster, and frost had already descended on the highest pastures, when Neihle sought his nephew out one afternoon to invite him to make a return trip to the Tribe of the Buffalo.
“Haras, the chief, has several girls who will need husbands this year,” Neihle said. “I am thinking, Ronan, that you would be happy in the Buffalo tribe.”
Ronan looked up from the hare he was skinning. The two men were alone in front of the big upper cave, and when Ronan did not reply, Neihle added, “The Mistress will give you a good bride price.”
At that, Ronan’s mouth quirked humorlessly. “I am sure of that, Uncle.” He put down his flint knife and rose to his feet. “I am not so sure that I wish to leave my own tribe, however.”
Neihle’s voice was gentle. “I am thinking you will have to, lad, sooner or later.”
Ronan was staring down at his bloody hands.
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