The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [240]
It didn’t take them long, Jondalar thought. He was there the next day, hanging around her, and she could hardly wait for me to leave before she welcomed him. They must have just been waiting for me to go. I should have known.…
What are you blaming her for? You’re the one who left, Jondalar, he said to himself. She didn’t tell you to go. After the first time, she didn’t go back to him. She was right there, ready for you, and you know it.…
So now she’s ready for him. And he’s eager. Can you blame him? Maybe it’s for the best. She’s wanted here, they’re more used to flatheads … Clan. And she’s loved.…
Yes, she’s loved. Isn’t that what you want for her? To be accepted, and to have someone love her.…
But I love her, he thought with a welling up of pain and anguish. O Mother! How can I stand it? She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved that way. I don’t want her to be hurt, I don’t want her to be turned out. Why her? O Doni, why did it have to be her?
Maybe I should leave. That’s it, I’ll just leave, he thought, beyond the ability to think clearly at the moment.
Jondalar strode toward the Lion Hearth, and interrupted Talut and Mamut, who were discussing the coming Spring Festival. “I’m leaving,” he blurted out. “What can I do to trade for some supplies?” He had a manic look of desperation.
A knowing glance passed between the headman and the shaman. “Jondalar, my friend,” Talut said, clapping him on the shoulder, “we’ll be happy to give you any supplies you need, but you can’t leave now. Spring is coming, but look outside, a blizzard is blowing, and late-season blizzards are the worst.”
Jondalar calmed down and realized his sudden impulse to leave was impossible. No one in his right mind would start out on a long Journey now.
Talut felt a relaxation of tension in Jondalar’s muscles, as he kept on talking. “In spring, it will flood, and there are many rivers to cross. Besides, you can’t travel this far from your home, winter with the Mamutoi, and not hunt mammoth with the Mammoth Hunters, Jondalar. Once you return, you will never have the chance again. The first hunt will be in early summer, soon after we all get to the Summer Meeting. The best time to start traveling would be right after that. You would be doing me a great favor if you would consider staying with us at least until the first mammoth hunt. I’d like you to show that spear-thrower of yours.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll think about it,” Jondalar said. Then he looked the big red-haired headman in the eyes. “And thanks, Talut. You’re right. I can’t leave yet.”
Mamut was sitting cross-legged in his favorite place for meditating, the bed platform next to his that was used as storage for the extra reindeer hide bedsheets, furs, and other bedding. He wasn’t so much meditating as thinking. Since the night he had been awakened by her tears, he was much more aware of Ayla’s despair over Jondalar’s leaving. Her wretched unhappiness had left a deep impression on him. Though she managed to hide the extent of her feelings from most people, he was more conscious now of small details of her behavior that he might have missed before. Though she genuinely seemed to enjoy Ranec’s company, and laughed at his jokes, she was subdued, and the care and attention she lavished on Wolf and the horses had a quality of desolate longing.
Mamut paid closer attention to the tall visitor and noticed the same desolation in Jondalar’s behavior. He seemed filled with tormented anxiety, though he, too, tried to hide it. After his desperate impulse to leave in the middle of a storm, the old shaman feared that Jondalar’s good judgment was becoming impaired at the thought of losing Ayla. To the old man