The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [103]
She whistled for Whinney, and heard an answering neigh close by. Coming out of the dark on the lee side of the longhouse, the mare and her colt appeared.
“Ayla! You weren’t thinking of going for a ride in this windstorm, I hope,” Jondalar said, coming out of the lodge. “Here, I brought your parka. It’s cold out here. You must be freezing already.”
“Oh, Jondalar. I can’t stay here,” she cried.
“Put your parka on, Ayla,” he insisted, helping to pull it over her head. Then he took her in his arms. He had expected a scene such as the one Frebec had just made, much earlier. He knew it was bound to happen when she talked so openly about her background. “You can’t leave now. Not in this. Where would you go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care,” she sobbed. “Away from here.”
“What about Whinney? And Racer? This is no weather for them to be out in.”
Ayla clung to Jondalar without answering, but on another level of consciousness, she had noticed that the horses had sought shelter close to the earthlodge. It bothered her that she had no cave to offer them for protection from bad weather, as they were used to. And Jondalar was right. She couldn’t possibly leave on a night like this.
“I don’t want to stay here, Jondalar. As soon as it clears up, I want to go back to the valley.”
“If you want, Ayla. We’ll go back. After it clears. But now, let’s go back inside.”
12
“Look how much ice is clinging to their coats,” Ayla said, trying to brush away with her hand the icicles hanging in matted clumps to Whinney’s long shaggy hair. The mare snorted, raising a steaming cloud of warm vapor in the cold morning air, which was quickly dissipated by the sharp wind. The storm had let up, but the clouds overhead still looked ominous.
“But horses are always outside in winter. They don’t usually live in caves, Ayla,” Jondalar said, trying to sound reasonable.
“And many horses die in winter, even though they stay in sheltered places when the weather is bad. Whinney and Racer have always had a warm and dry place when they wanted one. They don’t live with a herd, they aren’t used to being out all the time. This is not a good place for them … and it’s not a good place for me. You said we could leave any time. I want to go back to the valley.”
“Ayla, haven’t we been made welcome here? Haven’t most people been kind and generous?”
“Yes, we were welcomed. The Mamutoi try to be generous to their guests, but we are only visitors here, and it’s time to leave.”
Jondalar’s forehead wrinkled with concern as he looked down and scuffed his foot. He wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how. “Ayla … ah … I told you something like this might happen if you … if you talked about the … ah … people you lived with. Most people don’t think about … them the way you do.” He looked up. “If you just hadn’t said anything …”
“I would have died if it hadn’t been for the Clan, Jondalar! Are you saying I should be ashamed of the people who took care of me? Do you think Iza was less human than Nezzie?” Ayla stormed.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that, Ayla. I’m not saying you should be ashamed, I’m just saying … I mean … you don’t have to talk about them to people who don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure you understand. Who do you think I should talk about when people ask who I am? Who my people are? Where I come from? I am not Clan any more—Broud cursed me, to them I am dead—but I wish I could be! At least they finally accepted me as a medicine woman. They wouldn’t keep me from helping a woman who needs help. Do you know how terrible it is to see her suffer and not be allowed to help? I am a medicine woman, Jondalar!” she said with a cry of frustrated