The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [320]
“Mother! Mother! You came! You finally came,” a young voice called out. It was an interruption Ayla was delighted to hear. She turned and smiled, and her eyes lit up as she held out her arms to the young girl running toward her, with the wolf happily loping beside her. Her daughter fairly flew into her arms.
“I missed you so much,” Ayla said, hugging her close; then she pulled back to look at her and hugged her again. “I can’t believe how much you have grown, Jonayla!” she said when she put her down.
Zelandoni had followed the child back, at a slower pace, but smiled warmly at Ayla as she approached. After they had embraced in greeting she asked, “You finished your watching?”
“Yes, and glad of it, but it was exciting to see the sun stop and turn back, and mark it myself. The only problem was not having anyone there to share it with who really understood. I kept thinking of you,” Ayla said.
Zelandoni observed the young woman closely. There was a different air about her; Ayla had changed. The woman tried to find it. Ayla has lost weight—has she been sick? She should be starting to show, but her waistline is thinner and her breasts are smaller. O, Doni, she thought. She isn’t pregnant anymore! She must have miscarried.
But there was something else, a new assurance in her manner, an acceptance of the tragedy, a self-confident poise. She knew who she was—and who she was, was Zelandoni! She has been “called”! She must have lost the baby, then.
“We’re going to have to talk, aren’t we, Ayla?” Zelandoni Who Was First said, stressing her name. She could be called Ayla, but she wasn’t Ayla anymore.
“Yes,” the young woman said. She didn’t have to say more. She knew that the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother understood.
“We should do it soon.”
“Yes, we should.”
“And, Ayla, I am sorry. I know you wanted the baby,” she said quietly. Before Ayla could respond, more people crowded around.
Nearly all her close friends and kin came to the camp to greet her. Everyone seemed to be there except Jondalar, and no one seemed to know where he was. Usually when a person was leaving the Meeting Camp to go off by themselves or with just one or two others, someone was told where they were going. Ayla might have begun to worry, but no one else seemed to. Most people stayed to have a meal or a snack. They recounted events that had taken place, talked about people, who was getting mated, who’d had another child or was expecting one, who had decided to sever the knot, or take a second mate—friendly gossip.
In the afternoon, people started wandering off to other activities. Ayla arranged her sleeping roll and the rest of the belongings that she had brought with her. She was glad she had taken the horses to the meadow in the woods earlier, and the corral that had been fenced for the horses, not so much to keep them in as to keep people out. Horses in a meadow were fair game under normal circumstances. Though everyone knew about the horses the Ninth Cave brought with them, just to leave no doubt that these were in fact those special horses, the area was conspicuously fenced. Jondalar and Jonayla often took them to the grassy steppes, to ride, or just to let them graze, but whenever they were not in the enclosure, she knew someone was with them.
Jonayla left with Zelandoni and Wolf to go back to the area of the zelandonia to finish working out the details of the special evening that was planned. Ayla decided to give Whinney a good grooming after the hot, dusty ride, and went to the horse meadow with soft pieces of leather and teasel brushes. She brushed Racer and Gray a bit, too, just to give them a scratching and some attention.
She looked at the small stream that flowed along the edge of the grassy glen before emptying into The River, and remembered the last time the Meeting was in this location. There was a swimming hole some distance upstream, she recalled. Not many people knew about