The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [106]
“I would like you to show me, Ayla,” she said. Then, after a pause, she asked, “How did you get so good? I mean with the spear-thrower and the sling?”
Ayla thought, then said, “I want to very much, and I practice … very much.”
Talut came walking up from the direction of the river, his hair and beard wet, his eyes half closed.
“Oooh, my head,” he said with an exaggerated moan.
“Talut, why did you get your head wet? In this weather, you’ll get sick,” Nezzie said.
“I am sick. I dunked my head in cold water to try to get rid of this headache. Oooh.”
“No one forced you to drink so much. Go inside and dry off.”
Ayla looked at him with concern, a little surprised that Nezzie seemed to feel so little sympathy for him. She’d had a headache and felt a little ill when she woke up, too. Was it caused by the drink? The bouza that everyone liked so well?
Whinney lifted her head and nickered, then bumped her. The ice on the horses’ coats did not hurt them, though a big build-up could be heavy, but they enjoyed the brushing and the attention, and the mare had noticed that Ayla had paused, lost in thought.
“Whinney, stop that. You just want more attention, don’t you?” she said, using the form of communication she usually did with the horse.
Though she’d heard it before, Latie was still a little startled by the perfect imitation of Whinney’s nicker that Ayla made, and noticed the sign language now that she was more accustomed to it, though she wasn’t sure she understood the gestures.
“You can talk to horses!” the girl said.
“Whinney is friend,” Ayla said, saying the horse’s name the way Jondalar did because the people of the Camp seemed more comfortable hearing a word rather than a whinny. “For long time, only friend.” She patted the mare, then looked over the coat of the young horse and patted him. “I think enough brush. Now we get spear-thrower and go practice.”
They went into the earthlodge, passing by Talut, who was looking miserable, on their way to the fourth hearth. Ayla picked up her spear-thrower and a handful of spears, and on her way out, noticed the leftover yarrow tea she had made for her morning headache. The dried flower umbel and brittle feathery leaves of the plant still clung to a stalk that had been growing near the teasel. Spicy and aromatic when fresh, the yarrow that had grown near the river was sapped of its potency by rain and sun, but it reminded her of some she had prepared and dried earlier. She had an upset stomach along with her headache, so she decided to use it as well as the willow bark.
Perhaps it would help Talut, she thought, though from the sound of his complaints she wondered if the preparation of ergot she made for particularly bad headaches might be better. That was very powerful medicine, though.
“Take this, Talut. For headache,” she said on the way out. He smiled weakly, and took the cup and drank it down, not really expecting much, but glad for the sympathy which no one else seemed disposed to offer.
The blond woman and girl walked up the slope together, heading for the trampled track where the contests had been held. When they reached the level ground of the steppes, they saw that the four men who had gone up earlier were practicing at one end; they headed for the opposite end. Whinney and Racer trailed along behind. Latie smiled at the dark brown horse when he nickered at her and tossed his head. Then he settled down to graze beside his dam, while Ayla showed Latie how to cast a spear.
“Hold like this,” Ayla began, holding the narrow wooden implement that was about two feet long in a horizontal position. She put the first and second fingers of her right hand into the leather loops.
“Then put spear on,” she continued, resting the shaft of a spear, perhaps six feet long, in a groove cut down the length of the implement. She fitted the hook, carved as a backstop, into the butt end of the spear, being careful not to crush the feathers. Then, holding the spear steady, she pulled back and hurled it. The long free end of