"THE PLAINS OF PASSAGE" - читать интересную книгу автора (Auel Jean M., Ауэл Джин М.)

5

The last rays of the summer sun gleamed through the branches of the trees as it dropped over the edge of the high ground to the west. Smiling at Jondalar with contentment, Ayla reached into her bowl for the last ripe raspberry and popped it in her mouth. Then she got up to clean up and arrange things for a quick and easy departure in the morning.

She gave Wolf the leftovers from their bowls and put cracked and parched grains – the wild wheat, barley, and goosefoot seeds that Nezzie had given her when they left – into the warm soup and left it at the edge of the firepit. The cooked bison roast and tongue from their meal were put into a rawhide parfleche in which she stored food. She folded the large envelope of stiff leather together, tied it with sturdy cords, and suspended it from the center of a tripod of long poles, to keep it out of the reach of night prowlers.

The tapering poles were made from whole trees, tall, thin, straight ones with the branches and bark stripped off, and Ayla carried them in special holders sticking up from the back of Whinney's two pack baskets, just as Jondalar carried the shorter tent poles. The lengthy poles were also used on occasion to make a travois that could be dragged behind the horses to transport heavy or bulky loads. They took the long wooden poles along with them because trees that would make suitable replacements were so rare on the open steppes. Even near rivers there was often little more than tangled brush.

As the twilight deepened, Jondalar added more wood to the fire, then got the slab of ivory with the map scratched on it and brought it back to study it by the firelight. When Ayla finished and sat beside him, he seemed distracted and had that look of anxious concern that she'd often noticed the past few days. She watched him for a while, then put some stones in the fire to boil water for the evening tea it was her custom to make, but instead of the flavorful but innocuous herbs she generally used, she took some packets out of her otter-skin medicine bag. Something calming might be helpful, maybe feverfew or columbine root, in a woodruff tea, she thought, though she wished she knew what the problem was. She wanted to ask him but wasn't sure if she should. Finally she made a decision.

"Jondalar, do you remember last winter when you weren't sure how I felt, and I wasn't sure how you felt?" she said.

He had been so deeply immersed in his thoughts that it took a few moments before he comprehended her question. "Of course I remember. You don't have any doubts how much I love you, do you? I don't have any doubts about your feelings for me."

"No, I don't have any doubts about that, but misunderstandings can be about many things, not just if you love me, or if I love you, and I don't want to let anything like last winter ever happen again. I don't think I could stand to have any more problems just because we didn't talk about it. Before we left the Summer Meeting, you promised to tell me if anything was bothering you. Jondalar, something is bothering you, and I wish you would tell me what it is."

"It's nothing, Ayla. Nothing you have to worry about."

"But it's something you have to worry about? If something is worrying you, don't you think I should know about it?" she said. She took two small tea holders, each woven out of split reeds into a fine mesh, out of a wicker container in which she kept various bowls and utensils. She paused for a moment, considering, then selected the dried leaves of feverfew and woodruff, added to chamomile for Jondalar, and just the chamomile for herself, and filled the tea holders. "If it concerns you, it must concern me, too. Aren't we traveling together?"

"Well, yes, but I'm the one who made the decision, and I don't want to upset you unnecessarily," Jondalar said, getting up for the waterbag, which was hanging from a pole near the entrance to the tent that was set back a few paces from the fireplace. He poured a quantity of liquid into a small cooking bowl and added the hot stones.

"I don't know if it's necessary or not, but you are already upsetting me. Why not tell me the reason?" She put the tea holders into their individual wooden cups, poured steaming water over them, and put them aside to steep.

Jondalar picked up the marked piece of mammoth tusk and looked at it, wishing it would tell him what lay ahead and whether he was making the right decision. When it was just his brother and him, it didn't matter too much. They were on a Journey, an adventure, and whatever came along was part of it. He wasn't sure, then, if they would ever return; he wasn't even sure if he wanted to. The woman he was forbidden to love had chosen a path that led even farther away, and the one he was expected to mate was… just not the one he wanted. But this Journey was different. This time, he was with a woman he loved more than life itself. He not only wanted to get back home, but he wanted to get her there, and safely. The more he thought about the possible dangers they might encounter along the way, the more he imagined even greater ones, but his vague worries were not something he could easily explain.

"I'm just worried about how long this Journey will take. We need to reach that glacier before the end of winter," he said.

"You told me that before," she said. "But why? What will happen if we don't reach it by then?" she asked.

"The ice starts to melt in spring and it becomes too dangerous to attempt a crossing."

"Well, if it's too dangerous, then we won't attempt it. But if we can't cross it, what do we do then?" she asked, pushing him to think about alternatives he had avoided thinking about. "Is there any other way to go?"

"I'm not sure. The ice we have to cross is just a small plateau glacier that's on a highland north of the great mountains. There is land to the north of it, but no one ever goes that way. It would take us even more out of our way, and it's cold. They say the northern ice is closer there, it dips south in that region. The land between the high mountains of the south and the great ice of the north is the coldest anywhere. It never gets warm, not even in summer," Jondalar said.

"But isn't it cold on that glacier you want to cross?"

"Of course, it's cold on the glacier, too, but it's a shorter way, and on the other side it's only a few days to Dalanar's Cave." Jondalar put down the map to take the cup of hot tea Ayla was handing him, and he stared into the steaming contents for a while. "I suppose we could try a northern route around the highland glacier, if we had to, but I would not want to. That's flathead country, anyway," Jondalar tried to explain.

"You mean people of the Clan live north of that glacier we're supposed to cross?" Ayla asked, stopping just as she was taking the tea holder out of her cup. She was feeling a strange mixture of dread and excitement.

"I'm sorry. I guess I should call them Clan people, but they are not the same as the ones you knew. They live very far from here, you would not believe how far. They are not the same at all."

"But they are, Jondalar," Ayla said, then took a sip of the hot, flavorful liquid. "Maybe their everyday language and ways might be a little different, but all Clan people have the same memories, at least the older memories. Even at the Clan Gathering, everyone knew the ancient sign language that is used to address the spirit world, and spoke to each other with it," Ayla said.

"But they don't want us in their territory," Jondalar said. "They already let us know that when Thonolan and I happened to be on the wrong side of the river."

"I'm sure that's true. People of the Clan don't like to be around the Others. So, if we can't cross the glacier when we get there, and we can't go around it, then what do we do?" Ayla asked, going back to the original problem. "Can't we wait until the glacier is safe to cross again?"

"Yes. I suppose we'd have to, but it might be almost a year until the next winter."

"But if we waited a year, then we could make it? Is there a place we could wait?"

"Well, yes, there are people we could stay with. The Losadunai have always been friendly. But I want to get home, Ayla," he said, with a tone of such anguish that it made her realize just how important it was to him. "I want us to get settled."

"I want to get settled, too, Jondalar, and I think we should do everything we can to try to get there while it's still safe to cross the glacier. But if it's too late, it doesn't mean we won't get back to your home. It only means a longer wait. And we would still be together."

"That's true," Jondalar said, acquiescing but not happy. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad if we did get there late, but I don't want to wait around for a whole year," he said, and then his frown tightened. "And maybe if we went the other way, we would get there in time. It's still not too late."

"There is another way to go?"

"Yes, Talut told me we could go around the north end of the mountain range we'll be coming to. And Rutan of Feather Grass Camp said the route was northwest of here. I've been thinking that maybe we should go that way, but I had hoped to see the Sharamudoi once more. If I don't see them now, I'm afraid I never will, and they live around the south end of the mountains, along the Great Mother River," Jondalar explained.

Ayla nodded, thinking, Now I understand. "The Sharamudoi are the people you lived with for a while; your brother mated a woman of those people, right?"

"Yes, they are like family to me."

"Then of course we must go south so you can visit them one last time. They are people you love. If it means we may not get to the glacier in time, then we'll wait until the next season for crossing. Even if it means waiting another year before we reach your home, don't you think it would be worth it to see your other family again? If part of the reason you want to go home is to tell your mother about your brother, don't you think the Sharamudoi would like to know what happened to him? They were his family, too."

Jondalar frowned, then brightened. "You're right, Ayla. They would want to know about Thonolan. I've been so worried about whether I made the right decision, I just didn't think it through." He smiled his relief.

Jondalar watched the flames dancing over the blackened sticks of wood, leaping and cavorting in their short-lived joy as they beat back the encroaching dark. He sipped his tea, still thinking about the long Journey ahead of them, but he didn't feel quite as anxious about it. He looked over at Ayla. "It was a good idea to talk it over. I guess I'm still not used to having someone around that I can talk to about… things. And I think we can make it in time or I wouldn't have decided to go this way in the first place. It will make a longer trip, but at least I know this route. I don't know the northern way."

"I think you made the right decision, Jondalar. If I could, if I hadn't been cursed with death, I would visit Bran's clan," Ayla said, then added, so low that he could hardly hear her, "If I could, if I only could, I would go to see Durc one last time." The forlorn, empty sound of her voice made him aware that she was feeling her loss acutely just then.

"Do you want to try to find him, Ayla?"

"Yes, of course I want to, but I can't. It would only cause everyone distress. I was cursed. If they saw me they would think I was an evil spirit. I am dead to them, and there isn't anything I could do or say that would convince them that I am alive." Ayla's eyes seemed to be looking far away, but they were seeing an inner vision, a memory.

"Besides, Durc isn't the baby I left behind. He is getting close to manhood, though I was late in reaching womanhood, for a woman of the Clan. He is my son, and he may lag behind the other boys, too. But soon Ura will be coming to live with Bran's clan – no, it's Brood's clan now," Ayla said, frowning. "This is the summer of the Clan Gathering, so this fall Ura will leave her clan and go to live with Bran and Ebra, and when they are both old enough, she will be Durc's mate." She paused, then added, "I wish I could be there to welcome her, but I would only scare her, and maybe make her think Durc is unlucky, if the spirit of his strange mother won't stay where she belongs in the other world."

"Are you sure, Ayla? I mean it, we'll take the time to look for them, if you want," Jondalar said.

"Even if I wanted to find him," she said, "I wouldn't know where to look. I don't know where their new cave is, and I don't know where the Clan Gathering is. It is not meant for me to see Durc. He is not my son any more. I gave him to Uba. He is Uba's son now." Ayla looked up at Jondalar. He noticed that tears were threatening. "I knew when Rydag died I would never see Durc again. I buried Rydag in Durc's carrying cloak, the one I took with me when I left the Clan, and in my heart, I buried Durc at the same time. I know I will never see Durc again. I am dead to him, and it's best if he is dead to me."

The tears were wetting her cheeks, though she seemed oblivious to them, as though she didn't know they had begun. "I'm really lucky, you know. Think of Nezzie. Rydag was a son to her, she nursed him even if she didn't give birth to him, and she knew she would lose him. She even knew that no matter how long he lived, he would never have a normal life. Other mothers who lose their sons can only imagine them in another world, living with spirits, but I can imagine Durc here, always safe, always lucky, always happy. I can think of him living with Ura, having children at his hearth… even if I will never see them." The sob in her voice finally opened the way to let her grief out.

Jondalar took her in his arms and held her. Thinking of Rydag made him sad, too. There was nothing anyone could have done for him, though everyone knew Ayla had tried. He was a weak child. Nezzie said he always had been. But Ayla had given him something no one else could. After she came and started teaching him, and the rest of the Lion Camp, to talk the way the Clan did, with hand signs, he was happier than he had ever been. It was the first time in all his young life that he had been able to communicate with the people he loved. He could let his needs and wishes be known, and he could let people know how he felt, especially Nezzie, who had taken care of him since his real mother died, at his birth. He could finally tell her that he loved her.

It had been a surprise to the members of the Lion Camp, but once they realized that he wasn't just a rather clever animal, without the ability to speak, but instead, a different kind of person, with a different kind of language, they began to understand that he was intelligent, and to accept him as a person. It had been no less a surprise to Jondalar, even though she had tried to tell him, after he began to teach her to speak with words again. He had learned the signs along with the others, and he had come to appreciate the gentle humor and the depth of understanding in the young boy from the ancient race.

Jondalar held the woman he loved as she heaved great sobs in the release of her sorrow. He knew Ayla had held back her grief over the death of the half-Clan child that Nezzie had adopted, who had reminded her so much of her own son, and understood she was grieving for that son as well.

But it was more than Rydag or Durc. Ayla was grieving for all her losses: for the ones from long ago, her loved ones from the Clan, and for the loss of the Clan itself. Brun's clan had been her family, Iza and Creb had raised her, cared for her, and in spite of her difference, there was a time when she thought of herself as Clan. Though she had chosen to leave with Jondalar because she loved him and wanted to be with him, their talk had made her realize how far away he lived; it would take a year, maybe two years just to travel there. The full understanding of what that meant had finally come to her; she would never return.

She was not only giving up her new life with the Mamutoi, who had offered her a place among them, she was giving up any faint hope she might have had of seeing the people of her clan again, or the son she had left with them. She had lived with her old sorrows long enough so that they had eased a little, but Rydag had died not long before they left the Summer Meeting, and his death was still too fresh, the grief still too raw. The pain of it had brought back the pain of her other losses, and the realization of the distance she would be putting between them had brought the knowledge that the hope of recovering that part of her past would have to die, too.

Ayla had already lost her early life; she had no idea who her real mother was, or who her people were, the ones she had been born to. Except for faint recollections – feelings more than anything – she could not remember anything before the time of the earthquake, or any people before the Clan. But the Clan had banished her; Broud had put the curse of death upon her. To them she was dead and now she came to the full understanding that she had lost that part of her life when they turned her out. From this time on, she would never know where she came from, she would never meet a childhood friend, she would never know anyone, not even Jondalar, who would comprehend the background that made her who she was.

Ayla accepted the loss of her past, except that which lived in her mind and in her heart, but she grieved for it, and she wondered what lay ahead when she reached the end of her Journey. Whatever awaited her, whatever his people were like, she would have nothing else; only her memories… and the future.

Within the wooded glade it was completely black. Not the faintest hint of a silhouette or darker shadow could be discerned against the surrounding background, except for a faint redness from the lingering coals in the fireplace, and the blazing epiphany of stars. With only a slight breeze penetrating the protected grove, they had moved their sleeping furs outside the tent. Ayla lay awake under the starlit sky, staring up at the patterns of constellations and listening to the night sounds: the wind sifting through the trees, the soft liquid running of the river, the chirk of crickets, the harsh harumph of a bullfrog. She heard a loud plunk and splashing, then the eerie who-whoing of an owl, and in the distance, the deep roar of a lion and the loud trumpet of a mammoth.

Earlier Wolf had quivered with excitement at the sound of wolf howls and then run off. Not long afterward she heard wolf song again, and an answering howl much closer. The woman was waiting for the animal to return. When she heard his panting breath – he must have been running, she thought – and felt him snuggle up to her feet, she relaxed.

She had just dozed off when she suddenly found herself wide awake. Alert and tense, she lay still, trying to discover what woke her. First she felt the rumbling, almost silent growl vibrating through her coverings from the warm spot at her feet. Then she heard faint snufflings. Something was in camp with them.

"Jondalar?" she said softly.

"I think the meat is drawing something. It could be a bear, but I think it's more likely to be a wolverine or a hyena," Jondalar replied, his whisper barely audible.

"What should we do? I don't want anything to get our meat."

"Nothing, yet. Whatever it is may not be able to reach it. Let's wait."

But Wolf knew exactly what was nosing around and had no intention of waiting. Wherever they set up camp, he defined it as his territory and took it upon himself to defend it. Ayla felt him leave, and an instant later heard him snarl menacingly. The growling response had an entirely different tone and seemed to come from higher up. Ayla sat up and reached for her sling, but Jondalar was already on his feet with the long shaft of a spear resting on his spear-thrower in readiness.

"It's a bear!" he said. "I think he's up on his hind legs, but I can't see a thing."

They heard movement, shuffling sounds from somewhere between the fireplace and the poles from which the meat was suspended, then the growling warnings of the animals facing off. Suddenly, from the other side, Whinney neighed, then, even louder, Racer voiced his nervousness. There were more sounds of movement in the dark, and then Ayla heard the particular excited deep snarling rumble that signaled Wolf's intention to attack.

"Wolf!" Ayla called out, trying to prevent the dangerous encounter.

Suddenly, amid vicious snarls, a sonorous bellow rang out, then a yelp of pain as a scattering of bright sparks flew around a large shape stumbling into the fireplace. Ayla heard the whistle of an object moving rapidly through the air nearby. A solid thunk was followed by a howl, and then the noise of something crashing through the trees, moving away fast. Ayla whistled the call she used for Wolf. She did not want him to follow.

She knelt down to hug the young wolf with relief when he came to her, while Jondalar built up the fire again. In the firelight, he saw a trail of blood left behind by the retreating animal.

"I was sure my spear had found that bear," the man said, "but I couldn't see where it hit. I'd better track it in the morning. A wounded bear can be dangerous, and we don't know who will be using this campsite next."

Ayla came to examine the trail. "I think it's losing a lot of blood. It may not go far," she said, "but I was worried about Wolf. That was a big animal. It could have hurt him."

"I'm not sure if Wolf should have attacked like that. He could have caused that bear to go after someone else, but it was a brave thing to do, and I'm glad to know he's so quick to protect you. I wonder what he'd do if anyone ever really tried to hurt you," Jondalar said.

"I don't know, but Whinney and Racer were anxious about that bear. I think I'll see how they are."

Jondalar wanted to check on them, too. They found the horses had moved in close to the fire. Whinney had learned long ago that the fire made by people usually meant security, and Racer was learning from his own experience, as well as from his dam. They seemed to relax after the comforting words and touches of the people they trusted, but Ayla felt uneasy and knew she'd have trouble going back to sleep. She decided to make herself some calming tea and went into the tent to get her otter-skin medicine bag.

While the cooking stones were heating, she stroked the fur of the worn bag, remembering when Iza gave it to her and recalling her life with the Clan, especially the last day. Why did Creb have to go back into the cave? she thought. He might still be alive, even though he was getting old and weak. But he wasn't weak during that last ceremony the night before, when he made Goov the new Mog-ur. He was strong again, The Mog-ur, just like before. Goov will never be as powerful as Creb was.

Jondalar noticed her pensive mood. He thought she was still thinking about the child who had died and the son she would never see again, and he didn't quite know what to say. He wanted to help but didn't want to intrude. They were sitting together close to the fire, sipping the tea, when Ayla happened to look up at the sky. She caught her breath.

"Look, Jondalar," she said. "In the sky. It's red, like a fire, but high up and far away. What is it?"

"Ice Fire!" he said. "That's what we call it when it's red like that, or sometimes Fires of the North."

They watched the luminous display for a while as the northern lights arced across the sky like gossamer drapes blowing in a cosmic wind. "It has white bands in it," Ayla said, "and it's moving, like streaks of smoke, or white chalky water rippling through it. And other colors, too."

"Star Smoke," Jondalar said. "That's what some people call it, or Star Clouds when it's white. It has different names. Most people know what you mean when you use any name like that."

"Why haven't I seen this light in the sky before, I wonder?" Ayla said, feeling awe, and a touch of fear.

"Maybe you lived too far south. That's why it is also called Fires of the North. I haven't seen it very often and never this strong, or this red, but people who have made northern Journeys claim the farther north you go, the more you see it."

"But you can only go as far north as the wall of ice."

"You can travel north beyond the ice, if you go by water. West of the place where I was born, several days' distance, depending on the season, the land comes to an end at the edge of the Great Waters. It is very salty, and it never freezes, although large chunks of ice are sometimes seen. They say some people have traveled beyond the wall of ice in boats, when they are hunting animals that live in the water," Jondalar said.

"You mean like the bowl boats the Mamutoi used to cross rivers?"

"Like them, I think, but bigger and stronger. I never saw them, and I wasn't sure if I believed the stories until I met the Sharamudoi and saw the boats they make. Many trees grow along the Mother River, near their Camp, big trees. They make boats out of them. Wait until you meet them. You won't believe it, Ayla. They don't just cross the river, they travel on it, both upstream and downstream in those boats."

Ayla noticed his enthusiasm. He was really looking forward to seeing them again, now that he had resolved his dilemma. But she was not thinking about meeting Jondalar's other people. The strange light in the sky worried her. She wasn't sure why, exactly. It was unnerving and she wished she understood what it meant, but it didn't fill her with fear the way earthly disturbances did. She was terrified of any movements of the earth, especially earthquakes, not just because the shaking of what should be solid earth was frightening in itself, but because they had always signaled drastic, wrenching change in her life.

An earthquake had torn her away from her own people and given her a childhood that was alien to everything she had known, and an earthquake had led to her ostracism from the Clan, or at least given Broud an excuse for it. Even the volcanic eruption far to the southeast that had showered them with fine, powdered ash seemed to have presaged her leaving the Mamutoi, though the choice had been hers and not forced on her. But she didn't know what signs from the sky meant, or even if this was a sign.

"Creb would think a sky like this was a sign of something, I'm sure," Ayla said. "He was the most powerful mog-ur of all the clans, and something like this would make him want to meditate until he understood what it meant. I think Mamut would think it was a sign, too. What do you think, Jondalar? Is it a sign of something? Maybe of something… not good?"

"I… I don't know, Ayla." He was hesitant to tell her the beliefs of his people that when the northern lights were red, it was often considered a warning, but not always. Sometimes it just presaged something important. "I'm not One Who Serves the Mother. It could be a sign of something good."

"But this Ice Fire is a powerful sign of something, isn't it?"

"Usually. At least most people think so."

Ayla mixed a little columbine root and wormwood into her chamomile tea, making a somewhat more than mildly calming drink for herself, but she was uneasy after the bear in their camp and the strange glow in the sky. Even with the sedative, Ayla felt as though sleep was resisting her. She tried every position to fall asleep, first on her side, then her back, then the other side, even her stomach, and she was sure her tossing and turning was bothering Jondalar. When she finally did drop off, her sleep was disturbed by vivid dreams.

An angry roar shattered the silence, and the watching people jumped back with fear. The huge cave bear pushed at the gate to the cage and sent it crashing to the ground. The maddened bear was loose! Broud was standing on his shoulders; two other men were clinging to his fur. Suddenly one was in the monstrous animal's grip, but his agonized scream was cut short when a powerful bear hug snapped his spine. The mog-urs picked up the body and, with solemn dignity, carried it into a cave. Creb, in his bearskin cloak, hobbled in the lead.

Ayla stared at a white liquid sloshing in a cracked wooden bowl. The liquid turned blood red, and thickened, as white, luminous bands moved in slow ripples through it. She felt an anxious worry, she had done something wrong. There wasn't supposed to be any liquid left in the bowl. She held it to her lips and drained it.

Her perspective changed, the white light was inside her, and she seemed to be growing larger and looking down from high above at stars blazing a path. The stars changed to small flickering lights leading through a long endless cave. Then a red light at the end grew large, filling her vision, and with a sinking, sickening feeling, she saw the mog-urs sitting in a circle, half-hidden by stalagmite pillars.

She was sinking deeper into a black abyss, petrified with fear. Suddenly Creb was there with the glowing light inside her, helping her, supporting her, easing her fears. He guided her on a strange trip back to their mutual beginnings, through salt water and painful gulps of air, loamy earth and high trees. Then they were on the ground, walking upright on two legs, walking a great distance, going west toward a great salty sea. They came to a steep wall that faced a river and a flat plain, with a deep recess under a large overhanging section; it was the cave of an ancient ancestor of his. But as they approached the cave, Creb began fading, leaving her.

The scene grew hazy, Creb was fading faster, was nearly gone, and she felt panicky. "Creb! Don't go, please don't go!" she called out. She scanned the landscape, searching desperately for him. Then she saw him at the top of the cliff, above his ancestor's cave, near a large boulder, a long, slightly flattened column of rock that tilted over the edge, as though frozen in place as it was about to fall. She called out again, but he had faded into the rock. Ayla felt desolate; Creb was gone and she was alone, aching with sorrow, wishing she had something of his to remember, something to touch, to hold, but all she had was an overwhelming sorrow. Suddenly she was running, running as fast as she could; she had to get away, she had to get away.

"Ayla! Ayla! Wake up!" Jondalar said, shaking her.

"Jondalar," she said, sitting up. Then, still feeling the desolation, she clung to him, as tears fell. "He's gone… Oh, Jondalar."

"It's all right," he said, holding her. "It must have been a terrible dream. You were shouting and crying. Do you think it would help if you told me?"

"It was Creb. I dreamt about Creb, and that time at the Clan Gathering when I went into the cave and those strange things happened. For a long time afterward, he was very upset with me. Then, just as we were finally getting back together, he died, before we could even talk very much. He told me Durc was the son of the Clan. I never was sure what he meant. There was so much I wish we could have talked about, so much I wish I could ask him now. Some people just thought of him as the powerful Mog-ur, and his missing eye and arm made him seem ugly and more frightening. But they didn't know him. Creb was wise and kind. He understood the spirit world, but he understood people, too. I wanted to talk to him in my dream, and I think he was trying to talk to me."

"Maybe he was. I never could understand dreams," Jondalar said. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm all right now," Ayla said, "but I wish I knew more about dreams."

"I don't think you should go looking for that bear alone," Ayla said after breakfast. "You're the one who said a wounded bear could be dangerous."

"I'll be watchful."

"If I go with you, both of us can be watchful, and staying at the campsite won't be any safer. The bear could come back while you're gone."

"That's true. All right, come along."

They started into the woods, following the bear's trail. Wolf decided to track the bear and plunged ahead through the underbrush, heading upstream. They had traveled less than a mile when they heard a commotion ahead, snarls and growls. Hurrying ahead, they found Wolf, his bristles raised, a low growl deep in his throat, but holding his head low and his tail between his legs, staying well back from a small pack of wolves who were standing guard over the dark brown carcass of the bear.

"At least we don't have to worry about a dangerous wounded bear," Ayla said, holding her spear and thrower ready.

"Just a pack of dangerous wolves." He was also standing braced to hurl his spear. "Did you want some bear meat?"

"No, we have enough meat. I don't have room for more. Let's leave that bear to them."

"I don't care about the meat, but I wouldn't mind having the claws and the big teeth," Jondalar said.

"Why don't you take them? They are yours by right. You killed the bear. I can chase the wolves away with my sling long enough for you to get them."

Jondalar didn't think it was something he would have tried by himself. The idea of driving a pack of wolves away from meat they had claimed as theirs seemed a dangerous thing to do, but he remembered her actions of the day before, chasing away the hyenas. "Go ahead," he said, taking out his sharp knife.

Wolf became very excited when Ayla started to throw stones and chase the wolf pack, and he stood guard over the bear carcass as Jondalar quickly cut away the claws. The teeth were somewhat harder to dig out of the jaws, but the man soon had his trophies. Ayla was watching Wolf, smiling. As soon as his "pack" had chased away the wild pack, his entire manner and posture changed. He was holding his head up, his tail straight back, in the stance of a dominant wolf, and his snarl was more aggressive. The pack's leader was watching him closely and seemed close to challenging him.

After they relinquished the bear carcass to the pack again and were walking away, the pack leader threw back his head and howled. It was deep-voiced and powerful. Wolf lifted his head and howled in return, but his song lacked the resonance. He was younger, hardly even full grown, and it showed in his tone.

"Come on, Wolf. That one's bigger than you, not to mention older and wiser. He'd have you on your back in a heartbeat or two," Ayla said, but Wolf howled again, not in challenge, but because he was in a community of his kind.

The other wolves of the pack joined in until Jondalar felt surrounded by a chorus of yips and howls. Then, just because she felt like it, Ayla lifted her head and howled. It sent a shiver down the man's back and raised gooseflesh. To his ear, it was a perfect imitation of the wolves. Even Wolf cocked his head toward her, then voiced another long wail of more confident tones. The other wolves answered in kind and soon the woods were again filled with the spine-tingling, beautiful wolf song.

When they got back to camp, Jondalar cleaned up the bear claws and canine teeth, while Ayla packed Whinney, and he was still packing, not quite ready to go when she was done. She was leaning against the mare, absently scratching her and feeling the comfort of her presence, when she noticed that Wolf had found another rotten old bone. This time he kept to the far edge of the glade, growling playfully with his rank prize, keeping an eye on the woman, but making no attempt to bring it to her.

"Wolf. Come here, Wolf." she called. He dropped his bone and came to her. "I think it's time to begin teaching you something new," she said.

She wanted him to learn to stay in one place when she told him to, even if she went away. It was a command that she felt would be important for him to learn, though she feared he would be a long time in the learning. Judging from the reception they had received thus far from people they had met, and Wolf's reaction, she worried about him going after strangers from another "pack" of humans.

Ayla had once promised Talut that she would kill the wolf herself if he ever hurt anyone at Lion Camp, and she still felt it was her responsibility to make sure that the carnivorous animal she had brought into close contact with people would not harm anyone. Beyond that, she worried about his safety. His threatening approach immediately caused a defensive reaction, and she feared that some frightened hunter might try to kill the strange wolf that seemed to be threatening his Camp, before she could prevent it.

She decided to begin by tying him to a tree and telling him to stay there while she walked away, but the rope around his neck was too loose, and he slipped his head out of it. She tied it tighter the next time, but worried that it would choke him if it was too tight. As she had suspected, he whined and howled and jumped up trying to follow her when she backed away. From the distance of several yards, she kept telling him to stay there, signaling a stop motion with her hand.

When he finally settled down, she came back and praised him. After a few more attempts, she saw that Jondalar was ready, and she let Wolf go. It was enough practicing for that day, but after struggling to untie the knots Wolf had stretched tighter with his straining against them, she wasn't pleased with the rope around his neck. First she'd had to adjust it exactly right, neither too tight nor too loose, and then she found it was difficult to untie the knots. She was going to have to think about that.

"Do you really think you'll be able to teach him not to threaten strangers?" Jondalar asked, after watching the first seemingly unsuccessful attempts. "Didn't you tell me that it's natural for wolves to be mistrustful of others? How can you hope to teach him something that is against his natural inclinations?" He mounted Racer while she put the rope away, and then she climbed on Whinney's back.

"Is it a natural inclination for that horse to let you ride on his back?" she asked.

"I don't think that's the same, Ayla," Jondalar said as they started out from the camp riding the horses side by side. "Horses eat grass, they don't eat meat, and I think they are by nature more inclined to avoid trouble. When they see strangers, or something that seems threatening, they want to run away. A stallion may fight another stallion sometimes, or something directly threatening, but Racer and Whinney want to get away from a strange situation. Wolf gets defensive. He's much more ready to fight."

"He would run away, too, Jondalar, if we'd run with him. He gets defensive because he's protecting us. And, yes, he's a meat eater, and he could kill a man, but he doesn't. I don't think he would unless he thought one of us was threatened. Animals can learn, just like people can. It's not his natural inclination to think of people and horses as his 'pack.' Even Whinney has learned things that she would not have if she lived with other horses. How natural is it for a horse to think of a wolf as a friend? She even had a cave lion for a friend. Is that a natural inclination?"

"Maybe not," Jondalar said, "but I can't tell you how worried I was when Baby showed up at the Summer Meeting and you rode straight up to him on Whinney. How did you know he'd remember you? Or Whinney? Or that Whinney would remember him?"

"They grew up together. Baby… I mean Baby…"

The word she used meant "baby" but it had an odd sound and inflection, unlike any language she and Jondalar usually spoke, a rough, guttural quality, as though spoken from the throat. Jondalar could not reproduce it, could hardly even approximate the sound; it was one of the relatively few spoken words from the language of the Clan. Though she had said it often enough that he recognized it, Ayla had formed the habit of immediately translating any Clan word she happened to use to make it easier. When Jondalar referred to the lion Ayla had raised from a cub, he used the translated form of the name she had given him, but it always struck him as incongruous that a gigantic male cave lion should have the name "Baby."

"… Baby was… a cub when I found him, a baby. He hadn't even been weaned. He'd been kicked in the head, by a running deer, I think, and was almost dead. That's why his mother left him. He was like a baby to Whinney, too. She helped me take care of him – it was so funny when they started playing with each other, especially when Baby would sneak up and try to get Whinney's tail. I know there were times when she waved it at him on purpose. Or they'd each grab an end of a hide and try to pull it away from each other. I lost so many hides that year, but they made me laugh."

Ayla's expression turned pensive. "I never really learned to laugh until then. The people of the Clan didn't laugh out loud. They didn't like unnecessary noises, and loud sounds were usually meant for warnings. And that look you like, with teeth showing, that we call a smile? They made it to mean they were nervous, or feeling protective and defensive, or with a certain hand sign as implying a threatening gesture. It wasn't a happy look to them. They didn't like it when I was little if I smiled or laughed, so I learned not to do it very much."

They rode along the river's edge for a distance, on a flat, wide stretch of gravel. "Many people smile when they're nervous, and when they meet strangers," Jondalar said. "It's not meant to be defensive or threatening, though. I think a smile is meant to show that you're not afraid."

Going ahead in single file, Ayla leaned to the side to guide her horse around some brush growing beside a streamlet that was making its way to the river. After Jondalar had developed the halter device that he used to guide Racer, Ayla also started using one to help lead Whinney occasionally, or to tie her to something to keep her in one location, but even when the horse was wearing it, Ayla never used it when she was riding. She had never intended to train the animal when she first got on the mare's back, and the mutual learning process had been gradual and, in the beginning, unconscious. Though once she realized what was happening, the woman did purposely train the horse to do certain things, it was always within the framework of the deep understanding that had grown between them.

"But if a smile is meant to show that you are not afraid, doesn't that mean you think you have nothing to be afraid of? That you feel strong and have nothing to fear?" Ayla said, when they rode abreast again.

"I never really thought about it before. Thonolan always smiled and seemed so confident when he met new people, but he wasn't always as sure as he seemed. He tried to make people think that he wasn't afraid, so I suppose you could say it was a defensive gesture, a way of saying I'm so strong I have nothing to fear from you."

"And isn't showing your strength a way of threatening? When Wolf shows his teeth to strangers, isn't he showing them his strength?" Ayla pressed.

"There may be something about them that is the same, but there is a big difference between a smile of greeting and Wolf baring his teeth and growling."

"Yes, that's true," Ayla conceded. "A smile makes you feel happy."

"Or at least relieved. If you've met a stranger and he smiles back at you, that usually means you've been welcomed, so you know where you stand. Not all smiles are necessarily meant to make you happy."

"Maybe feeling relieved is the beginning of feeling happy," Ayla said. They rode together in silence for a while; then the woman continued. "I think there is something similar about a person smiling in greeting when he is feeling nervous around strangers, and people of the Clan having a gesture in their language of showing their teeth that means they're nervous or implying a threat. And when Wolf shows his teeth to strangers, he's threatening them because he's feeling nervous and protective."

"Then when he shows his teeth to us, to his own pack, it's his smile," Jondalar said. "There are times when I'm convinced he's smiling, and I know he teases you. I'm sure he loves you, too, but the trouble is, it's natural for him to show his teeth and threaten people he doesn't know. If he's protecting you, how are you going to train him to stay where you tell him, if you're not there? How can you teach him not to attack strangers if he decides he wants to?" Jondalar's concern was serious. He wasn't sure that taking the animal with them was such a good idea. Wolf could create a lot of problems. "Remember, wolves attack to get their food; that's the way the Mother made them. Wolf is a hunter. You can teach him many things, but how can you teach a hunter not to be a hunter? Not to attack strangers?"

"You were a stranger when you came to my valley, Jondalar. Do you remember when Baby came back to visit me and found you there?" Ayla asked, as they again separated into single file to start up a gully leading away from the river toward the highland.

Jondalar felt a flush of heat, not exactly embarrassment, but a recollection of the strong emotions of that encounter. He had never been so scared in his life; he had been sure he was going to die.

It took some time to pick their way up the shallow ravine, around rocks that washed down during spring floods, and black-stemmed artemisia brush that burst into life when the rains came and retreated into dry stalks that appeared dead when they stopped. He thought about the time Baby came back to the place where Ayla had raised him and found a stranger on the broad ledge in front of her small cave.

None of them were small, but Baby was the biggest cave lion he'd ever seen, nearly as tall as Whinney, and more massive. Jondalar was still recovering from the mauling that same lion, or his mate, had given him earlier when he and his brother had foolishly broached their den. It was the last thing Thonolan was ever to do. Jondalar was sure he was seeing his last moments when the cave lion roared and gathered himself to spring. Suddenly Ayla was between them, holding up her hand in a motion to stop, and the lion stopped! It would have been comical the way that huge beast pulled himself up short and twisted around to avoid her, if he hadn't been so petrified. The next thing he knew, she was scratching the gigantic cat and playing with him.

"Yes, I remember," he said, when they reached the highland and again rode side by side. "I still don't know how you made him stop in the middle of that attack on me."

"When Baby was just a cub, he made a game of attacking me, but when he started to grow, he got too big for me to play that kind of game with him. He was too rough. I had to teach him to stop," Ayla explained. "Now I have to teach Wolf not to attack strangers, and to stay behind if I want him to. Not only so he won't hurt people, but so they won't hurt him."

"If anyone can teach him, Ayla, you can," Jondalar said. She had made her point, and if she could, it would make Wolf easier to travel with, but he still wondered how much trouble the wolf might cause them. He had delayed their crossing the river and chewed up their things, though Ayla had apparently worked out that problem, too. It wasn't that he didn't like the animal. He did. It was fascinating to observe a wolf so closely, and it surprised him how friendly and affectionate Wolf was, but he did require extra time, attention, and provisions. The horses took some extra care, but Racer was so responsive to him, and they were a real help. The trip back was going to be difficult enough; they didn't need the added burden of an animal that was almost as worrisome as a child.

A child, that would be a problem, Jondalar thought as he rode. I only hope the Great Earth Mother doesn't give Ayla a child before we get back. If we were already there and settled, it would be different. Then we could think about children. Not that we can do anything about it, anyway, except ask the Mother. I wonder what it would be like to have a small one around?

What if Ayla is right? What if children are started by Pleasures? But we've been together for some time, and there are no signs of children yet. It has to be Doni who puts the baby inside a woman, but what if the Mother decides not to give Ayla a child? She did have one, even if it was mixed. Once Doni gives one, She usually gives more. Maybe it's me. I wonder, can Ayla have a baby that would come from my spirit? Can any woman?

I've shared Pleasures and honored Doni with many. Did any of them ever have a baby that I started? How does a man know? Ranec knew. His coloring was so strong, and his features so unusual, you could see his essence in some of the children at the Summer Meeting. I don't have such strong coloring or features… or do I?

What about that time the Hadumai hunters stopped us on the way here? That old Haduma wanted Noria to have a baby with blue eyes like mine, and after her First Rites, Noria told me she would have a son of my spirit, with my blue eyes. Haduma had told her. I wonder if she ever had that baby?

Serenio thought she might have been pregnant when I left. I wonder if she had a child with blue eyes the color of mine. Serenio had one son, but she never had any others after that, and Darvo was almost a young man. I wonder what she'll think of Ayla, or what Ayla will think of her?

Maybe she wasn't pregnant. Maybe the Mother still hasn't forgotten what I did, and it's Her way of telling me I don't deserve a child at my hearth. But She gave Ayla back to me. Zelandoni always told me Doni would never refuse me anything I asked Her, but she warned me to be careful what I asked for, because I would get it, she said. That's why she made me promise not to ask the Mother for her, when she was still Zolena.

Why would anyone ask for something if he didn't want it? I never really understand those who speak to the spirit world. They always have a shadow on their tongue. They used to say Thonolan was a favorite of Doni, when they talked about his flair for getting along with people. But then they say beware of the Mother's favors. If She favors too much, She doesn't want you be away from Her for too long. Is that why Thonolan died? Did the Great Earth Mother take him back? What does it really mean when they say Doni favors someone?

I don't know if She favors me or not. But now I know Zolena made the right choice when she decided to embrace the zelandonia. It was right for me, too. What I did was wrong, but I would never have made the Journey with Thonolan if she hadn't become Zelandoni, and I would never have found Ayla. Maybe She does favor me, a little, but I don't want to take advantage of Doni's goodness to me. I have already asked Her to get us back safely; I can't ask Her to give Ayla a child of my spirit, especially not now. But I wonder, will she ever have one?