The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [207]
Added to that was her growing confusion about Jondalar and Ranec. Jondalar had been distant, but recently he seemed more like himself. A few days before, Mamut had asked him to come and talk to him about a particular tool he had in mind, but the shaman had been busy all day, and only found time to discuss his project in the evening, when the young people usually gathered at the Mammoth Hearth. Though they sat quietly off to the side, the laughter and usual banter were easily overheard.
Ranec was more attentive than ever, and had been pressing Ayla lately, in the guise of teasing and joking, to come to his bed again. She still found it difficult to refuse him outright; acquiescence to a man’s wishes had been too thoroughly ingrained in her to overcome easily. She laughed at his jokes—she was understanding humor more all the time, even the serious intent it sometimes masked—but skillfully evaded his implied invitation, to a chorus of laughter at Ranec’s expense. He laughed as well, enjoying her wit, and she felt attracted to his easy friendliness. He was comfortable to be with.
Mamut noticed that Jondalar smiled, too, and nodded his head approvingly. The flint knapper had avoided the gathering of young people, only watching the friendly joking from a distance, and the laughter had only increased his jealousy. He didn’t know that it was often sparked by Ayla’s refusals of Ranec’s offers, though Mamut did.
The next day, Jondalar smiled at her, for the first time in too long, Ayla thought, but she felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart speed up. During the next few days, he began coming back to the hearth earlier, not always waiting until she was asleep. Though she was reluctant to push herself on him still, and he seemed hesitant to approach her, she was beginning to hope that he was getting over whatever had been bothering him. Yet she was afraid to hope.
Ayla took a deep breath, then pulled back the heavy drape, and held it aside for the horses. After shaking out her parka and hanging it on a peg, she went inside. For a change, the Mammoth Hearth was nearly empty. Only Jondalar was there, talking to Mamut. She was pleased, but surprised to see him, and it made her realize how little she had seen of him lately. She smiled and hurried toward them, but Jondalar’s scowl pulled down the corners of her mouth. He did not seem very happy to see her.
“You’ve been gone all morning, alone!” he blurted. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to go out alone? You worry people. Soon someone would have had to go looking for you.” He didn’t say he had been the one who was worried, or that he was the one who was considering going out to look for her.
Ayla backed off at his vehemence. “I was not alone. I was with Whinney and Racer. I took them for a run. They needed it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have gone out like that when it’s so cold. It is dangerous to go out alone,” he said, rather lamely, glancing at Mamut, hoping for support.
“I said I was not alone. I was with Whinney and Racer, and it is nice out, sunny, not as cold.” She was flustered by his anger, not realizing that it masked a fear for her safety that was almost unbearable. “I have been out alone in winter before, Jondalar. Who do you think went out with me when I lived in the valley?”
She’s right, he thought. She knows how to take care of herself. I shouldn’t keep trying to tell her when and where she can go. Mamut did not seem overly concerned when he had asked where Ayla was, and she is the daughter of his hearth. He should have paid more attention to the old shaman, Jondalar thought, feeling foolish, as though he had made a scene over nothing.
“Uh … well … maybe I should go look at the horses,” he mumbled, backing away and hurrying toward the annex.