Ayla shifted Tasher, who had stuck a thumb in his mouth, and seemed content with that for the moment. She noticed Wolf on Jondalar's familiar furs that had been, until recently, next to hers. The furs, and his nearness, made her remember Jondalar's touch, the way he could make her feel. She wished his furs were still on her bed platform. When she looked at him again, her eyes held her desire, and Jondalar felt such an instant response, he ached to reach for her, but held back. His reaction confused Ayla. He had started to look at her the way that always brought a rush of tingling feeling deep inside. Why had he stopped? She was crushed, but she had felt a moment of… something… hope, perhaps. Maybe she could find a way to reach him, if she kept trying.
"I hope she does," Ayla said, "but it may be too late to stop the labor." She started to leave, and Wolf got up to follow her. She looked at the animal, and then at the man, paused, and then asked, "If she does ask for me, Jondalar, will you keep Wolf here? I can't have him following me and getting in the way at the Crane Hearth."
"Yes, of course I will," he said, "but will he come here?"
"Wolf go back!" she said. He looked at her with a little whine in his throat, seeming to question. "Go back to Jondalar's bed!" she said, raising her arm and pointing. "Go to Jondalar's bed," she repeated. Wolf lowered his tail, crouched down, and went back. He sat down on top of the furs, and watched her. "Stay there!" she commanded. The young wolf lowered himself down, rested his head on his paws, and his eyes followed her as she turned and left the hearth.
Crozie, still sitting on her bed, watched as Fralie cried out and thrashed. Finally the pain passed, and Fralie took a deep breath, but that brought on a coughing spasm, and her mother thought she noticed a look of desperation. Crozie was feeling desperate, too. Somebody had to do something. Fralie was well into labor, and the cough was weakening her. There wasn't much hope for the baby any more, it was going to be born too early, and infants born too soon didn't survive. But Fralie needed something to ease her cough and her pain, and later, she would need something to ease her sorrow. It had done no good to talk to Fralie, not with that stupid man around. Couldn't he see that she was in trouble?
Crozie studied Frebec, who was hovering around Fralie's bed looking helpless and worried. Maybe he did, she thought. Maybe she should try again, but wouldn't do any good talking to Fralie?
"Frebec!" Crozie said. "I want to talk to you."
The man looked surprised. Crozie seldom addressed him by name, or announced that she wanted to talk to him. She usually just screamed at him.
"What do you want?"
"Fralie is too stubborn to listen, but it must be obvious to you by now that she is having the baby…"
Fralie interrupted with a choking coughing spasm.
"Fralie, tell me the truth," Frebec said when her cough eased. "Are you having the baby?"
"I… I think so," she said.
He grinned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I hoped it wasn't true."
"But why?" he asked, suddenly upset. "Don't you want this baby?"
"It's too soon, Frebec. Babies that are born too soon don't live," Crozie answered for her.
"Don't live? Fralie, is something not right? Is it true this baby won't live?" Frebec said, shocked and stricken with fear. The feeling that something was terribly wrong had been growing in him all through the day, but he had not wanted to believe it, and he didn't think it could be this wrong.
"This is the first child of my hearth, Fralie. Your baby, born to my hearth." He kneeled beside the bed and held her hand. "This baby has to live. Tell me this baby will live," he pleaded. "Fralie, tell me this baby will live."
"I can't tell you. I don't know." Her voice was strained and hoarse.
"I thought you knew about these things, Fralie. You're a mother. You have two children already."
"Each one is different," she whispered. "This one has been difficult from the beginning. I was worried that I might lose it. There was so much trouble… finding a place to settle… I don't know. I just think it's too early for this baby to be born."
"Why didn't you tell me, Fralie?"
"What would you have done about it?" Crozie said, her tone restrained, almost hopeless. "What could you do? Do you know anything about pregnancy? Childbirth? Coughs? Pain? She didn't want to tell you because you've done nothing but insult the one who could help her. Now the child will die, and I don't know how weak Fralie is."
Frebec turned to Crozie. "Fralie? Nothing can happen to Fralie! Can it? Women have babies all the time."
"I don't know, Frebec. Look at her, judge for yourself."
Fralie was trying to control a cough that threatened, and the ache in her back was starting again. Her eyes were closed, and her brows drawn in. Her hair was tangled and stringy and her face shiny with sweat. Frebec jumped up and started to leave the hearth. "Where are you going, Frebec?" Fralie asked.
"I'm going to get Ayla."
"Ayla? But I thought…"
"She's been saying you were having trouble ever since she got here. She was right about that. If she knew that much, maybe she is a Healer. Everyone keeps saying she is. I don't know if it's true, but we've got to do something… unless you don't want me to."
"Get Ayla," Fralie whispered.
The excited tension communicated itself through the earthlodge as Frebec marched down the passageway toward the Mammoth Hearth.
"Ayla, Fralie is…" he barely began, too nervous and upset to worry about saving face.
"Yes, I know. Ask someone to get Nezzie to come and help me, and bring that container. Careful, it's hot. It's a decoction for her throat," Ayla said, hurrying toward the Crane Hearth.
When Fralie looked up and saw Ayla, she suddenly felt a great relief.
"The first thing we have to do is straighten this bed and make you comfortable," Ayla said, pulling at the bedding and covers, and bolstering her with furs and pillows for support.
Fralie smiled and suddenly noticed, for some reason, that Ayla still spoke with an accent. No, not really an accent, she thought. She just had difficulty with certain sounds. Strange how easy it was to get used to something like that. Crozie's head appeared next above her bed. She handed Ayla a piece of folded leather.
"Here's her birthing blanket, Ayla." They opened it out and while Fralie shifted, they spread it beneath the woman. "It's about time they got you, but it's too late to stop the birth now," Crozie said. "Too bad, I had an intuition that this one would be a girl. It's a shame she will die."
"Don't be too certain of that, Crozie," Ayla said.
"This baby is coming early. You know that."
"Yes, but don't give up this child to the next world, yet. There are things that can be done, if it's not too early… and if the birth goes well." Ayla looked down at Fralie. "Let's wait and see."
"Ayla," Fralie said, her eyes shining, "do you think there's hope?"
"There is always hope. Now, drink this. It will quiet your cough, and make you feel better. Then we'll see how far along you are."
"What's in it?" Crozie demanded.
Ayla studied the woman for a moment before replying. There had been command implicit in her tone, but Ayla sensed that concern and interest motivated the question. The tone of her request was more a style of speaking, Ayla decided, as though she was accustomed to giving orders. But it could be misunderstood as unreasonable or demanding when someone who was not in a position of leadership assumed a commanding tone.