The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [409]
Usually when Jondalar walked along the river, he would think about starting back about the time that the sun reached its zenith, at midday. But on this day his mind was so lost in its ruminations, going over and over again each little nuance he could recall, or detail he thought he remembered, that he didn’t even notice the passage of time or the height of the sun.
Danug, taking long strides to keep up with Wolf, began to wonder if the animal was on the right trail. Could Jondalar have traveled so far? It was well past noon when Danug stopped for a quick drink of water before continuing on. He stood up from the river’s edge, and far in the distance, along a fairly straight stretch of the winding river, he thought he saw someone walking. He shaded his eyes, but could not see beyond what appeared to be a bend in the waterway. The wolf had rushed on ahead while he had stopped and was out of sight. Danug hoped he’d be able to catch up to him as he started out again, picking up the pace.
Jondalar was finally distracted from his intense preoccupation by movement in the brush near the water. He caught sight of the movement again. It’s a wolf! I wonder if he’s been stalking me, he said to himself, reaching for his spear-thrower. But he hadn’t taken spears or spear-throwers. His eyes searched the ground, looking for a weapon, a heavy branch or large shed antler, or a good stone, something to defend himself, but when the huge animal finally broke cover, all he could do was throw up his arm in front of his face as he was knocked over by the charge.
But the animal wasn’t biting him, he was licking him. Then he saw the ear cocked at a jaunty angle. It was not a wild wolf, he realized. “Wolf! Is it you? What are you doing here?” He sat up and had to fend off the exuberant advances of the excited animal. He sat for a while, petting the wolf and scratching him behind his ears, trying to calm him down. “Why aren’t you with Jonayla, or Ayla? Why did you follow me all this way?” Jondalar said, beginning to have the inkling of alarm.
When he stood up and started on his way again, Wolf pranced nervously in front of him, then back in the direction he had come. “Do you want to go back, Wolf? Well, go ahead. You can go back.” But when Jondalar started out again, the wolf jumped in front of him again. “What is it, Wolf?” Jondalar looked up at the sky, and for the first time noticed that the sun was well past its high point. “Do you want me to go back with you?”
“Yes, that’s what he wants, Jondalar,” Danug said.
“Danug! What are you doing here?” Jondalar said.
“Looking for you.”
“Looking for me? Why?”
“It’s Ayla, Jondalar. You have to come back right away.”
“Ayla? What’s wrong, Danug?”
“Remember that root? The one she made into juice for her and Mamut? She did it again, to show Zelandoni, but this time she drank it herself. No one can wake her up. Not even Jonayla. The Donier says you have to come right away, or Ayla will die and her spirit will be lost forever,” Danug said.
Jondalar turned white. “No! Not that root! O, Great Mother, don’t let her die. Please don’t let her die,” he said, and started running back the way he had come.
If he had been preoccupied on his way out, it was nothing compared to his single-minded intensity as he raced back. He tore along the edge of The River, scrambling through brush that tore at his bare legs and arms, and face. He didn’t feel them. He ran until he was gasping for breath that rasped his throat raw, until he felt a pain in his side that was like a hot knife, until his legs knotted and ached. He hardly felt any of it; the pain in his mind was more.