The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [203]
“What do you think you are doing?” Ayla shouted, reaching for her sling since she didn’t have her spear-thrower with her.
“What do you think we’re doing? We’re hunting horses,” one of the men replied. He heard her odd accent and added, “Who wants to know?”
“I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Ayla said. “And you are not hunting those horses. Can’t you see those are special horses?”
“What makes them so special? They look like ordinary horses to me.”
“Open your eyes and look,” Jondalar said. “How often do you see horses stand still for a child? Why do you think those horses are not running away from you?”
“Maybe because they’re too stupid to know any better.”
“I think maybe you are too stupid to understand what you are seeing,” Jondalar said, getting angry at the insolent mouth of the young man who seemed to be speaking for the group.
He whistled a piercing series of tones. The hunters watched the stallion turn toward the tall blond man, then trot up to him. Jondalar stood in front of Racer and made a point of arming his spear-thrower, though he didn’t quite aim it at the men.
Ayla walked between her daughter and the men and signaled Wolf to her, then added a signal that meant “Guard the horses.” The wolf bared his teeth and snarled at the men, which made them crowd closer together and back up a few paces. Ayla picked up Jonayla and put her on Gray’s back. Then she grabbed Whinney’s stand-up mane, leaped up and threw her leg over, and landed on her back. Every action caused the hunters to react with increasing surprise.
“How did you do that?” the young speaker said.
“I told you these were special horses, and not to be hunted,” Ayla said.
“Are you a Zelandoni?”
“She’s an acolyte, a Zelandoni in training,” Jondalar said. “She’s First Acolyte of the Zelandoni Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Mother, who will be here shortly.”
“The One Who Is First is here?”
“Yes, she is here,” Jondalar said, looking more closely at the men. They were all young, probably recently initiated into manhood and sharing a fa’lodge at a Summer Meeting—likely the one at the site of the next Sacred Cave they were planning to visit. “Aren’t you rather far from your Summer Meeting fa’lodge?” he asked.
“How do you know that?” the young man said. “You don’t know us.”
“But it’s not hard to guess. This is the time of Summer Meetings, you are all about the age when young men decide to leave their mother’s camp and stay in a fa’lodge, and to show how independent you are, you decided to go hunting and maybe even bring some meat back. But your luck hasn’t been too good, has it? And now you are hungry.”
“How do you know? Are you a Zelandoni, too?” the young man said.
“Just a guess,” Jondalar said; then he noticed the First arriving and all the others following behind. The One Who Was First could walk rather fast when she had a mind to, and she knew that if the wolf had come looking for them, there must have been some kind of trouble.
The First took in the scene quickly: young men with spears, too young to be very experienced; the wolf in a defensive stance in front of the horses with both the young girl and the woman on their bare backs without any of the usual accoutrements for riding, and a sling in Ayla’s hand, Jondalar with an armed spear-thrower standing in front of the stallion. Had Jonayla sent the wolf for her mother while she was trying to protect the horses from more than a handful of would-be hunters?
“Is there a problem here?” the Donier said. The young men knew who she was though none of them had ever seen her before. They had all heard descriptions of the First, and understood the meaning