The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [220]
There was no doubt that they were people, and there were many similarities between them and the ones they called “the Others.” They hunted the animals in their vicinity, and gathered the food that grew. They shaped tools out of stone and with them made other objects like clothing and containers and shelters. They cared about each other and took care of each other, and even recognized that Ayla was a child when they found her, and though she was one of the Others, they took care of her. But they were different in some ways that, even though she grew up with them, she never fully understood.
Though she sympathized with the young women who lived far away from their families and missed them, she didn’t fully empathize with them. At least they were living with people like themselves. She was grateful to have found her own kind, and especially to have found a man who cared about her among them. She couldn’t even put into words how much she cared for Jondalar. He was more than she could ever have hoped for. He not only said he loved her, he treated her with love. He was kind, he was generous, he adored her daughter. If it weren’t for him, she would not have been able to be an acolyte, to be a part of the zelandonia. He supported her, took care of Jonayla when she wasn’t home, even though she knew he would rather she was there with him, and he could bring her to unbelievable joy when they shared Pleasures. She trusted him implicitly and completely, and could not believe how fortunate she was.
Camora looked at the Zelandoni Who Was First. “Do you think something might have happened to Kimeran and Jondecam?” she asked, with a worried frown. “Accidents can happen.”
“Yes, they can, Camora, but it could also be that they were delayed and didn’t start as soon as they planned. Or something may have occurred at their Cave that made them change their mind and decide not to go. They would have no way of letting us know. We will wait here a few days, if Farnadal doesn’t mind,” she glanced at him and he smiled and nodded, “before we continue on our Journey, to give them a chance to catch up.”
“Perhaps we can do even more,” Jondalar said. “Horses can travel much faster than people can. We can ride back along the trail they were on and see if we can find them. If they are not too far away, we might. At least we can try.”
“That’s a good plan, Jondalar,” Ayla said.
“So they do carry you on their backs, like the Storytellers said,” Farnadal said.
“Have the Storytellers been here recently?” Ayla asked.
“No, about a year ago. But I thought someone had just made up some remarkable new stories. I didn’t know they were true,” he said.
“We’ll start in the morning,” Jondalar said. “It’s too late now.”
Everyone from the Cave who could was gathered at the bottom of the slope that led up to the ledge where they lived. Ayla and Jondalar had tied riding blankets and carry-baskets that held their camping gear and supplies on all three horses, and put halters on the stallion and young mare. Then Jondalar lifted Jonayla up to Gray’s back.
Does that little girl control a horse, too? Farnadal wondered. All by herself? She’s so small and a horse is a big powerful animal. And those horses should be afraid of that wolf. Anytime I’ve seen a wolf get close to a horse before, they would shy and run away, or if they thought one was ready to attack, they would try to trample it.
What kind of powerful magic does that woman have? For a moment he felt a tingle of fear, then he shook himself. She seemed