The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [175]
“It is still hard to know. We’ve put splints on the broken bones in his legs and arm, but we don’t know what may be broken inside. He still breathes, but he hasn’t roused. His mate and mother are in with him now,” Ayla said. “Zelandoni feels she should stay with them, but I think someone could bring her something to eat, which might encourage his family to come out and eat, too.”
“I’ll take her the food and try to persuade them to come out here,” Proleva said, getting up and walking toward the stack of visitors’ dishes. She took an ivory plate, which had been flaked off a large mammoth tusk and smoothed with sandstone rocks, and selected some slices of meat from the whole mountain goat kid that had been roasted on a spit. It was a rare treat. Several hunters from the Ninth and neighboring Caves had gone ibex hunting, and had had some luck. Proleva added some leafy greens and lightly cooked spring stalks of new thistle and roots of some kind, then carried it to the entrance of Zelandoni’s dwelling and scratched at the exposed side of a piece of rawhide next to the heavy leather drape across the entrance. A moment later she went in. Not long after, she walked out with the mate and mother of the injured man, brought them to the main hearth, and gave them visitor plates.
“I should go back in,” Ayla said, looking at Jondalar. “Did Matagan tell you I will probably be late tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll put Jonayla to bed,” he said, standing and picking up the child. He embraced the woman, touching cheeks, while Ayla held them both close.
“I rode Gray today,” Jonayla said. “Jondy took me out. He rode Racer. Whinney came too, but she didn’t have anyone to ride her. Why don’t you come, mama?”
“I wish I could have, Baby,” Ayla said, hugging them both again. Her pet name for her child was similar to the word for “baby” that she had called the injured lion cub she had once found, nursed back to health, and then raised. It was a modification of the Clan word for “infant” or “little one.” “But a man fell down and got hurt today. Zelandoni has been trying to make him feel better, and I’ve been helping her.”
“When he gets better, will you come?” Jonayla said.
“Yes, when he gets better, I will come riding with you,” Ayla said, thinking, if he gets better. Then she turned to Jondalar. “Why don’t you take Wolf with you, too.” She had noticed the mate of the man eyeing the animal warily. Everyone knew about the wolf and most had seen him, at least from a distance, but not everyone had tried to find a place to sit and eat with him nearby. The woman had also been looking askance at Ayla, especially after hearing the word she had used to refer to her child. Even modified, the word had a distinctly strange and unfamiliar sound.
After Jondalar left with Jonayla and Wolf, Ayla went back into Zelandoni’s dwelling. “Has there been any improvement in Jacharal?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve been able to see,” the One Who Was First said. She was glad the two women relatives had gone out so she could speak frankly. “Sometimes people languish in this condition for quite a while. If someone can manage to get them to take in water and food, they last longer, but if not they are gone within days. It’s as though the spirit is confused, the elan is not sure if it wants to leave this world while the body still breathes, even if the rest of the body is damaged beyond repair. Sometimes they wake up, but may not be able to move, or some part of them won’t move or doesn’t heal right. Occasionally, given enough time, some people will heal from a fall like that, but most often they don’t.”
“Has he lost fluid from his nose or ears?” Ayla asked.
“Not since he’s been here. There is an injury to his head, but it doesn’t seem very deep, just a few superficial scratches. He has so many broken bones, I’m guessing his real damage is internal. I’ll watch him tonight.”
“I’ll stay with you. Jondalar took Jonayla, and Wolf, with him. This man’s mate seemed uncomfortable around Wolf,” Ayla said. “I thought most people were used to him by now.”