"But why?" Ayla said to Mamut, sipping a hot drink with him and listening to Fralie's latest coughing spasm. Tronie had taken Tasher, who was between Nuvie and Hartal in age, to her hearth. Crisavec slept with Brinan at the Aurochs Hearth so the sick and pregnant woman could rest, but Ayla felt it every time Fralie coughed.

"Why won't he let me help her? He can see that other people feel better, and she needs it more than anyone. Coughing like that is too hard on her, especially now."

"That's not a difficult question, Ayla. If one believes the people of the Clan are animals, it's impossible to believe they understand anything about healing medicine. And if you grew up with them, how could you know anything about it?"

"But they are not animals! A Clan medicine woman is very skilled."

"I know that, Ayla. I know better than anyone the skill of a Clan medicine woman. I think everyone here knows it now, even Frebec. At least they appreciate your ability, but Frebec doesn't want to back down after all the arguing. He's afraid he will lose face."

"What's more important? His face or Fralie's baby?"

"Fralie must think Frebec's face is more important."

"It's not Fralie's fault. Frebec and Crozie are trying to force her to choose between them, and she won't choose."

"That's Fralie's decision."

"That's just the trouble. She doesn't want to make a decision. She refuses to make a choice."

Mamut shook his head. "No, she is making a choice, whether she means to or not. But the choice is not between Frebec and Crozie. How close is she to giving birth?" he asked. "She looks ready to me."

"I'm not sure, but I don't think she is ready yet. She looks bigger because she's so thin, but the baby is not in position yet. That's what worries me. I think it's too soon."

"There is nothing you can do about it, Ayla."

"But if Frebec and Crozie wouldn't argue so much about everything…"

"That doesn't have anything to do with it. That's not Fralie's problem, that's between Frebec and Crozie. Fralie doesn't have to let herself be caught in the middle of their problem. She can make her own decisions, and in fact, she is. She is choosing to do nothing. Or rather, if your fears are founded – and I… believe they are – she is choosing whether to give birth now or later. She may be choosing between life for her baby, and death… and may be endangering herself as well. But, it's her choice, and there may be more to it than any of us know."

Mamut's comments stayed on her mind long after the conversation was over, and she went to bed still thinking about them. He was right, of course. In spite of Fralie's feelings for her mother and Frebec, it wasn't her fight. Ayla tried to think of some way she could convince Fralie, but she had tried before, and now with Frebec keeping her away from his hearth, she had no opportunity to talk about it. When she went to sleep the worry was heavy on her mind.

She woke up in the middle of the night, and lay still, listening. She wasn't sure what woke her, but she thought it was the sound of Fralie's voice moaning in the darkness of the earthlodge. After a long silence, she decided it must have been a dream. Wolf whimpered, and she reached up to comfort him. Perhaps he was having a bad dream, too, and that's what woke her. Her hand stopped before it reached the pup as she strained to hear what she thought was a muffled moan.

Ayla pulled the covers back and got up. Quietly, she stepped around the drape and felt her way to the basket to relieve herself, then pulled a tunic over her head and went to the fireplace. She heard a muffled cough, then a spasm of coughs, that finally stopped in an equally muffled moan. Ayla stirred the coals, added a bit of kindling and bone shavings until she had a small fire, then dropped in a few cooking stones and reached for the waterbag.

"You can make some tea for me, too, Mamut said in a quiet voice from the dark of his sleeping platform, then pushed back his covers and sat up. "I think we'll all be up soon.

Ayla nodded, and poured extra water in the cooking basket. There was another coughing spell, then stirring around and subdued voices from the Crane Hearth.

"She needs something to quiet the cough, and something to calm the labor… if it's not too late. I think I'll check my medicines," Ayla said, putting her drinking bowl down, then hesitated, "…just in case someone asks."

She picked up a firebrand and Mamut watched her moving among the racks of dried plants she had brought back with her from the valley. It's a wonder to watch her practice her healing arts, Mamut thought. She's young to have such skill, though. If I were Frebec, I would have been more concerned about her youth, and possible inexperience, than her background. I know she was trained by the best, but how can she know so much already? She must have been born with it, and that medicine woman, Iza, must have seen her gift from the beginning. His musing was interrupted by another coughing spell from the Crane Hearth.

"Here, Fralie, have a drink of water," Frebec said anxiously.

Fralie shook her head, unable to talk, trying to control the cough. She was on her side, up on one elbow, holding a piece of soft leather to her mouth. Her eyes were glazed with fever, and her face red from the exertion. She glanced at her mother, who was sitting on the bed across the passageway, glaring at her.

Crozie's anger, and her distress, were both apparent. She had tried everything to convince her daughter to ask for help: persuasion, argument, diatribe; nothing worked. Even she had gotten some medicine from Ayla for her cold, and it was stupid of Fralie not to use the help that was available. It was all the fault of that stupid man, that stupid Frebec, but it did no good to talk about it. Crozie had decided she would not say another word.

Fralie's cough subsided, and she dropped back down on the bed, exhausted. Maybe the other pain, the one she didn't want to admit to, would not come this time. Fralie waited, holding her breath so as not to disturb anything, fearfully anticipating. An ache started in her lower back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and tried to will it away. She put a hand on the side of her distended stomach and felt the muscles contract as the pain, and her anxiety, increased. It's too soon, she thought. The baby shouldn't be coming for at least another moon cycle.

"Fralie? Are you all right?" Frebec said, still standing there with the water.

She tried to smile at him, seeing his distress, his feeling of helplessness. "It's this cough," she said. "Everyone gets sick in spring."

No one understood him, she thought, least of all her mother. He was trying so hard to show everyone that he was worth something. That's why he wouldn't give in, that's why he argued so much, and was so quick to take offense. He embarrassed Crozie. He didn't understand that you showed your worth – the number and quality of your affiliations, and the strength of your influence – by how much you could claim from kin and kind to give away, so everyone could see it. Her mother had tried to show him by giving him the right to the Crane, not just the hearth Fralie brought to him when they joined, but the right to claim the Crane as his own birthright.

Crozie had expected gracious acquiescence to her wishes and requests, to show that he appreciated and understood that the Crane Hearth, which was still hers in name, though she had little else, was his to claim. But her demands could be excessive. She had lost so much it was hard for her to give away any of her remaining claim to status, particularly to one who had so little. Crozie feared he would diminish it, and she needed constant reassurance that it was appreciated. Fralie wouldn't shame him by trying to explain. It was a subtle thing, something you grew up knowing… if you always had it. But Frebec never had anything.