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articulate well enough for a complete verbal language, they communicated more with gestures and motions, but their sign language was fully comprehensive and rich with nuance.
    “Clover is food. We had it last night,” Creb signed.
    “Yes,” Iza nodded, “and we will tonight. The magic is in the way it’s prepared. A large bunch boiled in little water extracts what is needed, the leaves are thrown out.” Creb nodded with understanding and she went on. “Alder bark cleans the blood, purifies it, drives out the spirits that poison it.”
    “You used something from your medicine bag, too.”
    “Powdered hops, the mature cones with the fine hairs, to calm her and make her sleep restfully. While the spirits battle, she needs rest.”
    Creb nodded again; he was familiar with the soporific qualities of hops that induced a mild state of euphoria in adifferent use. Though he was always interested in Iza’s treatments, he seldom volunteered information about the ways he used herbal magic. Such esoteric knowledge was for mog-urs and their acolytes, not women, not even medicine women. Iza knew more about the properties of plants than he did, and he was afraid she would deduce too much. It would be most unpropitious if she guessed much about his magic.
    “And the other bowl?” he asked.
    “That’s just broth. The poor thing is half starved. What do you suppose happened to her? Where did she come from? Where are her people? She must have been wandering alone for days.”
    “Only the spirits know,” Mog-ur replied. “Are you sure your healing magic will work on her? She’s not Clan.”
    “It should; the Others are human, too. You remember mother telling about the man with the broken arm, the one her mother helped? Clan magic worked on him, although mother did say it took him longer to wake up from the sleeping medicine than expected.”
    “It’s a shame you never knew her, our mother’s mother. She was such a good medicine woman, people came from other clans to see her. It’s too bad she left to walk the spirit world so soon after you were born, Iza. She told me about that man herself, so did Mog-ur-before-me. He stayed for a while after he recovered and hunted with the clan. He must have been a good hunter, he was allowed to join a hunting ceremony. It’s true, they are human, but different, too.” Mog-ur stopped. Iza was too astute, he couldn’t afford to say too much or she might begin to draw some conclusions about the men’s secret rituals.
    Iza checked her bowls again, then cradling the child’s head on her lap, she fed her the contents of the bone bowl in small sips. It was easier to feed her the broth. The girl mumbled incoherently and tried to fight off the bitter-tasting medicine, but even in her delirium her starving body craved food. Iza held her until she lapsed into a quiet sleep, then checked her heartbeat and breathing. She had done what she could. If the girl wasn’t too far gone, she had a chance. It was up to the spirits now, and the inner strength of the child.
    Iza saw Brun walking toward her, eyeing her with displeasure. She got up quickly and ran to help serve the meal. He had dismissed the strange child from his mind afterhis initial consideration, but now he was having second thoughts. Though it was customary to avert the eyes to avoid seeing other people in conversation, he couldn’t help noticing what his clan was saying. Their wondering at his allowing the girl to come with them made him begin to wonder, too. He began to fear the spirits’ anger might be aroused more by the stranger in their midst. He veered to intercept the medicine woman, but Creb saw him and headed him off.
    “What’s wrong, Brun? You look worried.”
    “Iza must leave that child here, Mog-ur. She is not Clan; the spirits won’t like it if she is with us while we’re looking for a new cave. I never should have let Iza take her.”
    “No, Brun,” Mog-ur countered. “Protective spirits are not angered by