The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [135]
He pulled himself up, finally, kissing a breast and nuzzling her navel as he backed off and got up. Then she got up, and headed toward the back, dropping some cooking stones in the fire.
“Will you pour some water in that cooking basket, Jondalar? I think the large waterbag is full,” she said, on her way to the far corner of the cave, which she used when it was too cold to go outside to relieve herself.
When she returned, she picked the hot stones out of the fire the way she had learned from the Mamutoi, and dropped them into the water that was in a watertight basket. They hissed and steamed as their heat warmed the water. She fished them out and put them back in the fire, and added others that were hot.
When the water was simmering, she scooped out a few cupfuls, put them in a wooden basin, and from her supply of herbais, added a few dried lilaclike ceanothus flowers. A fragrant, spicy perfume filled the air, and when she dipped in a soft scrap of leather, the solution of plant saponin foamed slightly, but it would need no rinsing and leave only a pleasant scent. He watched her standing by the fire while she wiped her face and washed her body, drinking in her beauty as she moved, arid wishing he could begin again.
She gave Jondalar a piece of absorbent rabbit skin and passed the basin to him. While he cleansed himself—it was a custom she developed after Jondalar arrived, which he adopted—she looked over her herbs again, pleased to have her entire supply available. She selected individual combinations for a tea for each. For herself, she started with her usual golden thread and antelope root, wondering again for a moment if she should stop taking it and see if a baby would start growing inside her. In spite of his explanations, she still believed it was a man, not spirits, that started the life growing. But whatever the cause, Iza’s magic seemed to work, and her woman’s curse, or rather moon time, as Jondalar called it, still came regularly. It would be nice to have a baby that came from Pleasures with Jondalar, she thought, but maybe it was best to wait. If he decides to become a Mamutoi, too, then perhaps.
She looked at thistle next for her tea, a strengthener of the heart and breath, and good for mother’s milk, but she chose damiana instead, which helped keep women’s cycles in balance. Then she selected red clover and rose hips for general good health and taste. For Jondalar she picked ginseng, for male balance, energy, and endurance, added yellow dock, a tonic and purifier, then licorice root, because she had noticed him frowning, which was usually a sign that he was worried or stressed about something, and to sweeten it. She put in a pinch of chamomile for nerves as well.
She straightened and rearranged the furs, and gave Jondalar his cup, the wooden one she had made that he liked so well. Then, a little chilly, they both went back to bed, finished their tea, and snuggled together.
“You smell nice, like flowers,” he said, breathing in her ear, and nibbling her earlobe.
“So do you.”
He kissed her, gently, then lingered, with more feeling. “The tea was good. What was in it?” he asked, kissing her neck.
“Just chamomile and some things to make you feel good, and give you strength and endurance. I don’t know your names for all of them.”
He kissed her then, with more heat, and she responded with warmth. He propped himself up on one elbow, and looked down at her.
“Ayla, do you have any idea how amazing you are?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Any time, every time I want you, you are ready for me. You have never put me off or turned me away, even though the more I have you, the more I seem to want you.”
“Is that amazing? That I should want you as often as you want me? You know my body better than I do, Jondalar. You have made me feel Pleasures I didn’t know were there. Why should I not want you whenever you want me?”
“But for most women, there are some times when they are not in the mood,