Ayla didn’t feel the trembling beneath her feet until she saw the people toppling over, unable to keep their balance. Her own face mirrored the stunned expressions of the rest as they changed to fear, and then stark terror. It was then she heard the deep, terrifying rumble from the bowels of the earth.
She scrambled up the swaying slope trying to reach the large triangular entrance. A huge rock rolled down the steep wall that held the opening , and, deflected by a tree that splintered under the impact, crashed to the ground beside her. Ayla’s didn’t notice . She was numb, in shock. The memories locked in her old nightmare were released, but jumbled and confused by sheer panic.
The ground beneath her dropped several feet, then heaved up again. She fell over and struggled to get up again, and then saw the vaulted ceiling of the cave collapse. Jagged chunks, torn from the high roof, crashed down and slipt on impact. Then more fell. All around her boulders bounced and tumbled down the rocky face, rolled down the gentler slope, and splashed into the icy stream. The ridge to the east cracked and half of it toppled.
Inside the cave, it was raining rocks and pebbles and dirt, mixed with the intermittent thunder of large sections of the walls and vaulted dome. Outside, tall conifers danced like clumsy giants and naked deciduous trees shook bare limbs in an ungraceful jitter, moving in speeded time to the thunderous dirge. A crack in the wall, near the east side of the opening, opposite the spring fed pool, widened with an explosive gush that flushed out loose rock and gravel. It opened another underground channel that deposited its load of debris on the broad front porch of the cave before making its maiden voyage to the stream. The roar from the earth and the smashing rocks overpowered the screams of the terror stricken people. The sound was deafening.
Finally, the quaking subsided. A last few stones tumbled off the mountain, bounced, rolled, then came to rest.
From the book ‘The clan of the cave bear’ by Jean M. Auel

By mid-morning the rain eased to a dreary drizzle and by afternoon stopped altogether. A wan, tired sun broke through the solid cloud cover, but did little to warm or dry the drenched earth. Despite the dismal weather and sparse fare, the clan was excited by so notable an occasion for a feast. A change in leadirship was rare enough, but a new mog-ur at the same time made it exceptional. Orga and Ebra would have a part to play in the ceremony, and brac as well. The seven year old would be the next heir apparent.
Oga was a tight bundle of stretched nerves. She jumped up to cheek every fireplace where food was cooking every other moment. Ebre tried to calm her, but Ebra wasn’t so settled herself. Trying to seem more grown-up, Brac was issuing commands to the small children and busy women. Brun finally stepped in and called him off to the side to practise his part once more. Uba took the children to Vorn’s hearth to get them out of the way, and after most of the preparations were completed, Ayla joined her. Aside from helping , Ayla’s only role would be to make datura for the men since Creb had told her not to make the drink from the roots.
By evening, only a few wisps of clouds remained to dart fitfully before the full moon that lit the bare, lifeless landscape. Inside the cave , a large fire burned in a space behind the last hearth, defined by a circle of torches.
From the book ‘The clan of the cave bear’ by Jean M. Auel

The first light of pre-dawn glowed through the opening of the cave, filling in the triangular space. She slipped quietly out of bed, quickly threw on a wrap and some foot coverings, and moved silently towards the entrance.
She took a deep breath as soon as she stepped beyond the cave’s mouth. Her relief was so great, she didn’t care that icy rain soaked through her leather wrap. She slogged through the mucky quagmire in front of the cave towards the stream,, shivering from a sudden chill. Patches of snow, blackened by soot sifting out from the many fires, sent muddy runnels of water down the slope adding their small measure, to the drenching downpour that swelled the ice locked channel.
Her leather foot coverings gave small purchase on the reddish brown ooze, and she slipped and fell half way down to the stream. Her limp hair, plastered against her head, hung in thick ropes extending into rivulets that cut through the mud clinging to her wrap before the rain washed it away. She stood for a long time on the bank of the watercourse, struggling to break free of its frozen keep, and watched the dark water swirl around chunks of ice, finally break them loose, and send them careering to some unseen destination.
Her teeth were chattering when she struggled back up the slippery slope watching the overcast sky grow imperceptibly lighter beyond the ridge to the east. She had to force herself through an invisible barrier that blocked the mouth of the cave, and felt the sense of uneasiness again the moment she entered.
From the book ‘The clan of the cave bear’ by Jean M. Auel

Brun threw up his hand in a signal to stop, then pointed ahead at the monstrous shaggy bruin rubbing his back against a tree. Even the children sensed the awe with which the clan viewed the massive vegetarian. His physical presence was impressive though. The brown bears of their own mountains, and these too, averaged about three hundred and fifty pounds; the weight of a male cave bear, during the summer while he was still fairly lean, was closer to a thousand. In Late autumn, when he was fattened for winter, his bulk was much greater. He towered above the men of the clan by nearly three times their height, and with his huge head and shaggy coat seemed even bigger. Lazily scratching his back on the rough bark of the old snag, he appeared unaware of the people frozen on their tracks so close by. But he had little to fear from any creature and was simply ignoring them. The smaller brown bears inhabiting the area near their own cave had been known to break the neck of a stag with one blow of a powerful foreleg, what couldn’t this huge bruin do? Only another male during rutting season, or the female of the species protecting her cubs, would dare to stand up to him. She was invariably successful.
The bear tired of his activity – or his itch was satisfied – and he stretched to his full height, walked on hind legs a few paces, then dropped down on all four legs. Muzzle drooping close to the ground, he loped ponderously away with a lumbering gallop. For all his great size, the cave bear was basically a peaceful creature and rarely attacked unless he was annoyed.
From the book ‘The clan of the cave bear’ by Jean M. Auel