The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [347]
“I’m just so glad to see you, Jonayla.” She let go of the child, but smiled at her through wet eyes. “I almost forgot to tell you. We are going to visit the Lanzadonii camp and have a meal with them tonight.”
“With Dalanar and Bokovan?”
“That’s right, and Echozar and Joplaya, and Jerika, and everybody.”
“Is Jondy coming?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. He had to go someplace else.” Suddenly Ayla turned aside and seeing Jonayla’s clothing basket, started going through it. She didn’t want her daughter to see her in tears again. “It will get cold after it gets dark; would you like to change into something warmer?”
“Can I wear the new tunic that Folara made for me?”
“That would be a good idea, Jonayla.”
35
At first glance, in the distance, Ayla thought it was Jondalar carrying something, coming toward her along the well-worn main path between the camps of several friendly Caves. She felt her stomach tightening to a knot. The height, the shape of the body, the walk were so familiar, but as the man approached, she saw it was Dalanar, carrying Bokovan.
As soon as they neared, Dalanar saw the obvious black marks on her forehead. Ayla noted Dalanar’s look of surprise when he first saw her, then his effort to avoid looking at her forehead, and remembered her marks. She didn’t see them, and tended to forget them.
Is that why Jondalar is behaving so strangely? Dalanar wondered. When he had invited Jondalar to join the Lanzadonii for a meal, along with Ayla and Jonayla, Dalanar had been surprised by Jondalar’s hesitation, and then refusal. He claimed he had already promised to be some other place, but he looked upset and embarrassed. It was as though he were looking for excuses not to join them this evening. He recalled his own reasons for leaving a woman he loved. But I didn’t think Jondalar was bothered by her becoming zelandoni, the older man thought. He always seems to be proud of her skill as a healer, and content to be working the flint and training his apprentices.
“Would you let me carry you for a while, Bokovan? And give Dalanar a rest?” Ayla said, holding out her arms to him, and smiling. The youngster hesitated, them held out his arms to her. She remembered how much he weighed when she picked him up. Ayla, carrying Bokovan, walked alongside Dalanar, who was holding Jonayla’s hand as they headed toward his camp. Wolf followed along behind.
The animal seemed to be perfectly comfortable wandering through the large Camp of people now, and none of the people appeared particularly concerned about him. Ayla had noticed, however, that the Zelandonii took a special delight in the reactions of visitors or strangers who were not accustomed to seeing a wolf mingle so freely with people.
When they arrived, Joplaya and Jerika came to greet her, and Ayla noticed their look of surprise, and not-quite-successful attempt to ignore her new forehead marks. Although there was still an air of sadness about the beautiful dark-haired young woman, whom Jondalar called cousin, Ayla noticed a smile of warm love light up her vivid green eyes as she took her son. Joplaya seemed more relaxed, more accepting of her life, and genuinely pleased to see Ayla.
Jerika also greeted her warmly. “Let me take Bokovan,” she said, taking the child from his mother’s arms. “I have some food ready for him. You and Ayla can visit.”
Ayla spoke directly to the boy. “I am glad I met you, Bokovan. Will you come to visit me? I’m from the Ninth Cave. Do you know where it is?”
He stared at her for a while, then with great seriousness, he said, “Yeth.”
Ayla could not help but notice both the similarities and the differences between Jerika, Joplaya, and Bokovan before his grandmother took him away. The older woman was short and sturdy, her movements quick and energetic. Her hair, once as dark as the night sky, was now showing sunset streaks of gray. Her face, round and flat with high cheekbones, was more wrinkled, but her black slanted eyes still sparkled with charm and wit.
Ayla remembered Hochaman, the