The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [234]
The two rode off on their horses, with Wolf following along. Jondalar led them west until he came to an area that looked familiar to him. He pulled up and showed her where he had found the flint, then looked around and started in a different direction. They came to an area of moorland, a tract of land covered with bracken, heather—the preferred food plant of red grouse—and coarse grasses with a few clumps of brush and brambles, not far from the western edge of the oxbow lake. Ayla smiled. It was similar to the tundra of ptarmigan habitat, and she could easily imagine that a southern variety of the birds could live in this region. They left the horses near a stand of hazelnut brush spreading out from a large center tree.
She could see that Wolf had taken notice of something ahead. He was alert, focused, and whining softly. “Go ahead, Wolf. Find them,” Ayla said.
As he dashed off, Ayla slipped her sling off her head, reached in her pouch for two stones, set one in the soft cup of her sling, and gathered up both ends. She didn’t have to wait long. With a sudden flurry of wings Wolf flushed out five red grouse. The birds lived close to the ground but could fly up in a burst of speed and then glide long. They resembled plump chickens with camouflage, brown and black flecked with white. Ayla hurled a stone the moment she saw the first bird, and delivered the second stone before the first one hit the ground. She heard a swoosh then saw Jondalar’s spear pierce a third.
If it had been just the two of them traveling together, the way it was on their Journey, that would have been enough, but the travelers numbered sixteen in all, including four children. Because of the way Ayla cooked the birds, everyone always wanted a taste, and though they were of a decent size—a live weight of twelve or thirteen pounds full grown—three birds would hardly feed sixteen people. She wished it were the right season for eggs; she liked to stuff the birds with eggs and roast them together. The nests usually consisted of a depression on the ground lined with grass or leaves, but there were no eggs to find at this time of year.
Ayla whistled again for Wolf. He came bounding back. It seemed obvious that he was having fun chasing birds. “Maybe he can find some more,” Ayla said, then looked at the four-legged hunter. “Wolf, find them. Find the birds.”
The wolf dashed into the grassy field again and Ayla followed after him. Jondalar followed her. Before long another grouse flew up and although it was some distance away, Jondalar launched a spear with his thrower and managed to bring it down. Then, while Jondalar was looking for the one he killed, a lek of four males took to the sky, identified by black and brown with white markings on tail and wing plumage and the yellows and reds of the beaks and combs. Ayla got two more with stones from her sling; she seldom missed. Jondalar had not seen the fly-up, though he heard it, and was late getting his spear-thrower armed. He wounded one, and heard it squawk.
“That should be enough,” Ayla said, “even if we let Wolf have that last one.”
With Wolf’s help, they found and gathered up seven birds. The last had a broken wing but was still alive. Ayla wrung the bird’s neck and extracted the small spear, then signaled the wolf that he could have it. Wolf picked it up in his mouth and carried it out of sight into the field. Using tough grass as cordage, they tied the rest of the grouse together by their feet in pairs and strolled back to where the horses were grazing. She wrapped her sling around her head again as they walked toward the horses.
When they returned to camp, the hunters were talking about finding the bison while they were shaving the spear staffs smooth. Jondalar joined them to finish making the many spears they needed. After he knapped flint into points, they would attach them to the shafts and fletch