The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [145]
He was torn in so many directions, he suddenly felt exhausted. Ayla saw his face go slack, his shoulders slump.
“It’s late, Jondalar. Drink a little of this, and let’s go to bed,” she said, handing him a cup.
He nodded, drank the warm beverage, slipped out of his clothes, and crawled into the furs. Ayla lay beside him, watching him until the furrows on his forehead eased and smoothed out, and his breath was deep and regular, but sleep for her was slower in coming. Jondalar’s distress troubled her. She was glad he had told her more about himself, and his younger life. She had long believed something deep within himself caused him great anguish, and perhaps talking about it had relieved some of his discomfort, but something still bothered him. He had not told her everything, and she felt a deep uneasiness about it.
She lay awake, trying not to disturb him, wishing she could sleep. How many nights had she spent alone in this cave, unable to sleep? Then she remembered the cloak. Slipping quietly out of bed, she rummaged through her pack and pulled out a soft, old piece of leather, and held it to her cheek. It was one of the few things she had taken with her from the rubble of the clan’s cave before she left. She had used it to help carry Durc when he was an infant, and to support him on her hip when he was a toddler. She didn’t know why she had taken it. It had not been a necessity, yet more than once, when she was alone, she had rocked herself to sleep with it. But not since Jondalar came.
She crumpled the soft old hide into a ball, stuffed it to her stomach, and wrapped herself around it. Then, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
“It’s too much, even with the travois and carrying baskets on Whinney. I need two horses to carry all this!” Ayla said, looking over the pile of bundles and neatly tied objects she wanted to take with her. I’ll have to leave more behind, but I’ve been through everything so many times, I don’t know what else to leave.” She glanced around trying to find something that would give her an idea for a solution to her dilemma.
The cave seemed deserted. Everything useful that they weren’t taking with them had been put back in the storage holes and cairns, just in case they might want to come back for it someday, though neither one believed they ever would. All that was left in view was a pile of discards. Even Ayla’s herb drying rack was bare.
“You’ve got two horses. Too bad you can’t use both of them,” Jondalar said, seeing the two horses in their place near the entrance, munching on hay.
Ayla studied the horses, speculatively. Jondalar’s comment had started her thinking. “I still think of him as Whinney’s colt, but Racer is almost as big as she is. Maybe he could carry a small load.”
Jondalar was immediately interested. “I’ve been wondering when he would be big enough to do some of the things Whinney does, and how you would teach him to do them. When did you first ride Whinney? And what made you think about it in the first place?”
Ayla smiled. “I was just running with her one day, wishing I could run as fast, and suddenly the idea came to me. She was a little frightened at first and started running, but she knew me. When she got tired, she stopped, and didn’t seem to mind. It was wonderful! It was running like the wind!”
Jondalar watched her as she recalled her first ride, her eyes glistening and breathing hard with remembered excitement. He had felt the same way the first time Ayla had let him ride on Whinney, and he shared her excitement. He was moved by a sudden desire for her. It never ceased to amaze him how he could be so easily and unexpectedly provoked to want