The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [222]
Had the ones they were expecting just not made the trip? Had something come up that caused them to cancel or postpone their planned journey, or had something happened to them along the way?
“We could go back to Big River and the First Cave of South Land Zelandonii and see if they made the crossing,” Ayla said.
“You and Jonayla wouldn’t have to make that long trip. I could go and you could return to let everyone know. If we don’t return in a few days, they’ll be worrying about us,” Jondalar said.
“You are probably right,” Ayla said, “but let’s keep looking, at least until tomorrow. Then we can decide.”
They made camp late, and avoided talking about the decision they knew they would have to make. In the morning, the air felt damp and they noticed clouds had formed in the north. In the early morning the wind was erratic, coming from every direction. Then it shifted and started blowing from the north, with some strong gusts, which made the horses nervous as well as the people. Ayla always packed extra clothing for warmth in case of shifts in the weather, or if they needed to be up late in the evening.
The glaciers, beginning in the farthest north and lying like a huge pancake on the curved top of the earth, presented walls of solid ice more than two miles thick only a few hundred miles away. On the hottest days of summer, the nights were usually cool and even the daytime weather could change abruptly. The north wind brought a chill and a reminder that even in summer, winter ruled the land.
But the north wind brought something else as well. In the bustle of striking camp and preparing a meal, no one noticed the shift in Wolf’s posture. But a loud yip that was almost a bark got Ayla’s attention. He was standing, almost leaning into the wind, with his nose high and forward. He had picked up a scent. Each time they started out from camp, she had given him the signal to search for people. The wolf’s highly developed sense of smell had found something, some small whiff brought in by the wind.
“Look, mother! Look at Wolf!” Jonayla said. She had seen his bearing, too.
“He’s located something,” Jondalar said. “Let’s hurry and finish packing.”
They threw things into the pack baskets much less neatly than usual, and tied them on the horses along with the riding blankets, put the halters on Racer and Gray, doused the fire, and mounted.
“Find them, Wolf,” Ayla said. “Show us which way to go.” She made the Clan hand signals when she gave the command.
The wolf headed north, but took a more easterly direction than they had been traveling. If what he had scented was the group they were supposed to meet, they seemed to have veered off the infrequently marked trail, or perhaps they had traveled into the eastern highland for some other reason. Wolf moved with single-minded purpose using the ground-covering lope that was common to his species; the horses with Whinney in the lead followed behind. They traveled all morning and past the time when they would normally have stopped for a midday meal.
Ayla thought she caught a whiff of something burning, then Jondalar called out to her, “Ayla, do you see smoke ahead?”
She did see a faint trace of smoke rising in the distance and urged Whinney to a faster pace. She was holding Gray’s lead rope, and glanced back at her beloved daughter on the young mare’s back to make sure Jonayla was prepared for the increased speed. The girl