The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [236]
It wasn’t the first time he had made advances. Usually they were framed as jests that allowed him to let her know how he felt, while giving her the opportunity to avoid them without either of them losing face. She started walking back, sensing a more serious confrontation and wanting to avoid it. She had a feeling he would ask her to come to his bed, and she didn’t know if she could refuse a man who commanded her to his bed, or even made a direct request. She understood it was her right, but the response to comply was so ingrained she wasn’t sure that she could.
“Why not, Ayla?” he said, falling in step beside her. “Why won’t you let me show you? You sleep alone now. You shouldn’t sleep alone.”
She felt a stab of remorse realizing that she did sleep alone, but tried not to show it. “I don’t sleep alone,” she said, holding up the puppy. “Wolf sleeps with me, in a basket right here, near my head.”
“That’s not the same,” Ranec said. His tone was serious and he seemed ready to push the issue. Then he stopped and smiled. He didn’t want to rush her. He could tell she was upset. It hadn’t been that long since the separation. He tried to turn the tension aside. “He’s too small to keep you warm … but I must admit, he as appealing.” He rubbed Wolf’s head affectionately.
Ayla smiled and put the young wolf down in the basket. He immediately jumped out and then down to the floor, sat down and scratched himself, then scampered toward his feeding dish. Ayla began to fold up the white tunic to put it away. She rubbed the soft white leather and the white ermine fur, and straightened the little tails with the black tips, feeling her stomach tighten and a lump form in her throat. Her eyes stung from tears she fought to control. No, it wasn’t the same, she thought. How could it be the same?
“Ayla, you know how much I want you, how much I care about you,” Ranec said, standing behind her. “Don’t you?”
“I think so,” she said, not turning, but closing her eyes.
“I love you, Ayla. I know you feel unsettled right now, but I want you to know. I loved you the first moment I saw you. I want to share my hearth with you, to make a joining with you. I want to make you happy. I know you need time to think about it. I’m not asking you to make a decision, but tell me you’ll think about … letting me try to make you happy. Will you? Think about it?”
Ayla looked down at the white tunic in her hands, and her mind whirled. Why doesn’t Jondalar want to sleep with me any more? Why did he stop touching me, stop sharing Pleasures with me, even when he was sleeping with me? Everything changed after I became Mamutoi. Didn’t he want me to be adopted? If he didn’t, why didn’t he say so? Maybe he did want it; he said he did. I thought he loved me. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he doesn’t love me any more. He never did ask me to join. What will I do if Jondalar leaves without me? The knot in her stomach felt as hard as a rock. Ranec cares for me, and he wants me to care about him. He is nice, and funny, he always makes me laugh … and he loves me. But I don’t love him. I wish I could love him … maybe I should try.
“Yes, Ranec, I’ll think about it,” she said softly, but her throat tightened and ached as she spoke.
Jondalar watched Ranec leave the Mammoth Hearth. The tall man had become a watcher, though he felt embarrassed about it. It wasn’t appropriate behavior, either in this society or his own, for adults to stare or concern themselves unduly with the ordinary activities of another person, and Jondalar had always been especially sensitive to social conventions. It bothered him to appear so callow, but he couldn’t help it. He tried to hide it, but he watched Ayla and the Mammoth Hearth constantly.
The carver’s jaunty step and delighted smile as he returned to the Fox Hearth filled the tall visitor with dread. He knew it had to be something Ayla had said or done that caused the Mamutoi man such elation, and with his morbid imagination, he feared the worst.
Jondalar knew Ranec had become a constant visitor since he left the Mammoth Hearth, and