Glade and Ivory Ch. 21

Ivory held Ptarmigan round the shoulder and squeezed her hand for comfort, but the Chief's wife could see that it was Ivory who needed the most reassurance. At first the streak of tears warmed her chill blue-veined face, but they soon became a slowly cooling reminder of her loss. Ptarmigan and she stood at their post for far longer than the rest of the village as their eyes followed the distant furry dots as they mounted the winding path. Ivory could identify Glade by her thick silver musk-oxen fur, which contrasted with the bear- and wolf-skins worn by the hunters. Chief Cave Lion's leopard-skin mantle stood out best against the rubble-strewn moss of the hill. Soon even he couldn't be told apart from the rest of the company.

Then the distant figures reached the highest part of their ascent when one by one they disappeared over the top of the hill. An undistinguished wolf-skin was the last to disappear. And with this final sight of her lover now past, Ivory burst into uncontrollable sobs and chokes while Ptarmigan attempted to comfort her.

"They will soon be back," the chief's wife reassured her.

Ivory was sure, confident, definitely certain, that Ptarmigan was right, but the wrench of separation was harder to bear than she had imagined possible. It was like, but different in kind, to the loss she felt when her mother died, but it wasn't bereavement that haunted her but fearful apprehension.

It was by Ptarmigan's side that Ivory was to sleep in Chief Cave Lion's absence. With the Chief absent, only his most trusted lieutenants could guard Ptarmigan from the predatory attention of wild animals or wild men. The Chief instructed Ivory to stand as Ptarmigan's final line of defence, even if the two women would need to live together as close as sisters.

Although Ptarmigan and Ivory did indeed sleep under the same furs—legs entangled and warm breath on each other's cheek—there was no sexual exploration on the first night or so after Glade and Chief Cave Lion had departed. The comfort they gave each other was genuinely like that of two sisters.

In any case, their days were scarcely idle. The pursuit of food and the many other duties required for the tribe to survive ensured that everyone was tired when the sun descended behind the hills. Ivory was also preoccupied with the need to chant the sacred incantations and sing to the spirits. Although she mostly followed Glade's instructions, she subtly adapted the rituals to express the esteem that the spirits really deserved. She also didn't use those prayers and songs that had words Ivory didn't understand. She believed it would be disrespectful to make offerings in a tongue whose meaning was lost to her.

Ptarmigan was attentive to the care of her children, but she wasn't expected to help in foraging for food or even to help in its preparation. In fact, she had neglected such duties for so long she probably wouldn't have made a very good job of them. When she could leave her children, Ptarmigan was always in Ivory's company. She watched the shaman's apprentice perform her duties and occasionally assisted in the care of the wounded and suffering.

Ptarmigan might sit beside a child who was hot with fever and rest the child's head on her lap while the mother anxiously watched Ivory prepare the herbs that Glade would prescribe for such a fever. She might grasp another woman's hand while Ivory wrapped a bandage of finely beaten leaves around a scar on the chest.

The women would talk together, but not as much as Ivory would with Glade. Ptarmigan preferred just to sit with Ivory and observe, rather than chat. And what conversation there was related to daily concerns rather than the growing and sickening dread that gripped Ivory as each day passed by and there was still no sign that Glade would return.