The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [107]
“Like this?” the girl said, holding the spear-thrower the way Ayla had explained. “The spear rests in this groove, and I put my fingers through the loops to hold it, and put the end against this back part.”
“Good. Now throw.”
Latie lobbed the spear a good distance. “It’s not so hard,” she said, pleased with herself.
“No. Is not hard to throw spear,” Ayla agreed. “Is hard to make spear go where you want.”
“You mean to be accurate. Like making the dart go in the hoop.”
Ayla smiled. “Yes. Need practice, to make dart go in hoop … go in the hoop.” She had noticed Frebec coming up to see what the men were doing, and it suddenly made her conscious of her speech. She still wasn’t speaking right. She needed to practice, too, she thought. But why should it matter? She wasn’t staying.
Latie practiced while Ayla coached, and they both became so involved they didn’t notice that the men had drifted in their direction and had stopped their practice to watch.
“That’s good, Latie!” Jondalar called out after she had hit her mark. “You may turn out to be better than anyone! I think these boys got tired of practicing and wanted to come and watch you instead.”
Danug and Druwez looked uncomfortable. There was some truth in Jondalar’s teasing, but Latie’s smile was radiant. “I will be better than anyone. I’m going to practice until I am,” she said.
They decided they’d had enough practicing for one day, and tromped back down to the earthlodge. As they approached the tusk archway, Talut came bursting out.
“Ayla! There you are. What was in that drink you gave me?” he asked, advancing on her.
She took a step back. “Yarrow, with some alfalfa, and a little raspberry leaf, and …”
“Nezzie! Do you hear that? Find out how she makes it. It made my headache go away! I feel like a new man!” He looked around. “Nezzie?”
“She went down to the river with Rydag,” Tulie said. “He seemed tired this morning, and Nezzie didn’t think he should go so far. But he said he wanted to go with her … or maybe, he wanted to be with her … I’m not sure of the sign. I said I’d go down and help her carry him, or the water, back. I’m just on my way.”
Tulie’s remarks caught Ayla’s attention for more than one reason. She felt some concern about the child, but more than that, she detected a distinct change in Tulie’s attitude toward him. He was Rydag now, not just “the boy,” and she spoke about what he had said. He had become a person to her.
“Well …” Talut hesitated, surprised for a moment that Nezzie wasn’t in his immediate vicinity, then, reproaching himself for expecting her to be, he chuckled. “Will you tell me how to make it, Ayla?”
“Yes,” she said. “I will.”
He looked delighted. “If I’m going to make the bouza, then I ought to know a remedy for the morning after.
Ayla smiled. For all his size, there was something so endearing about the huge red-haired headman. She had no doubt he could be formidable if brought to anger. He was as agile and quick as he was strong, and he certainly did not lack for intelligence, but there was a gentle quality to him. He resisted anger. Though he was not averse to making a joke at someone else’s expense, he laughed as often at his own foibles. He dealt with the human problems of the people with genuine concern and his compassion extended beyond his own camp.
Suddenly a high-pitched keening pulled everyone’s attention toward the river. Her first glance sent Ayla running down the slope; several people followed behind. Nezzie was kneeling over a small figure, wailing in anguish. Tulie was standing beside her looking distraught and helpless. When Ayla arrived, she saw that Rydag was unconscious.
“Nezzie?” Ayla said, asking with her expression what had happened.
“We were walking up the slope,” Nezzie explained. “He started having trouble breathing. I decided I’d better carry him, but as I was putting down the waterbag, I heard him cry out in pain. When I looked up, he was lying there like that.”
Ayla