The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [296]
“You are not disturbing me,” Ayla said, although he was. She looked at the device made of thin strips of leather, braided and looped around each other.
The mare had come into heat earlier in the season. Soon after Ayla noticed Whinney’s condition, she heard the distinctive neigh of a stallion on the steppes. Though Ayla had found her after the mare had gone to live with a stallion and herd before, she couldn’t face the thought of giving up Whinney to a stallion. She might not get her friend back this time. Ayla had used a halterlike contrivance and a rope around the neck to restrain the mare—and the young stallion who had exhibited great interest and excitement—and kept them inside the annex if she couldn’t be with them. Since then, she continued to use a halter occasionally, though she preferred to allow Whinney the freedom to come and go as she wished.
“How does it work?” Ayla asked.
He demonstrated on Whinney with an extra one he had made for her. Ayla asked several questions in a seemingly dispassionate tone, but she was hardly paying attention. She was far more aware of Jondalar’s warmth when she stood beside him, and of his faint, pleasantly masculine smell. She seemed unable to keep from staring, at his hands, at the play of muscles across his chest, and at the bump of his manhood. She hoped her questions would lead to further conversation, but as soon as he finished explaining the device, he left abruptly. Ayla watched him grab up his shirt, mount Racer and, guiding him with leads to the new bridle, ride up the slope. She considered, for a moment, going after him on Whinney, then changed her mind. If he was so anxious to get away from her, it must mean he didn’t want her around.
Ayla stared after Jondalar until he was out of sight. Wolf, eagerly yipping at her, finally brought her attention back. She wrapped her sling around her head, and checked the stones in the pouch, then picked up the pup and put him on Whinney’s withers. Then she mounted and started up the slope in a different direction from the one Jondalar had taken. She had planned to go hunting with Wolf, and she might as well do it. Wolf had begun to stalk and try to catch mice and small game on his own, and she had discovered that he was very good at flushing game for her sling. Though it was accidental at first, the wolf was quick to learn, and was already becoming trained to flush them at her command.
Ayla was right in one respect. Jondalar left in such a hurry not because he didn’t want to be around her just then—but only because he did want to be around her all the time. He needed to get away from his own reactions to Ayla’s nearness. She was Promised to Ranec now, and he had lost any claim he might have had on her. Lately, he had started riding when he wanted to get away from a difficult situation, or from the strain of fighting conflicting emotions, or just to think. He began to understand why Ayla so often had ridden off on Whinney when something was troubling her. Riding across the open grasslands astride the stallion, feeling the wind in his face, had both an exhilarating and calming effect.
Once up on the steppes, he signaled Racer to a gallop, and leaned closer to the strong neck stretching forward. It had been surprisingly easy to accustom the horse to accepting a rider, but in many ways both Ayla and Jondalar had been getting him used to it for some time. It was harder to decide how to make Racer understand and want to go where his rider wanted to go.
Jondalar understood that Ayla’s control of Whinney had worked itself out in such a natural way that her directions were still largely unconscious, but he started with the idea of training the horse. His directions were much more purposeful, and as he was training the horse, he was teaching himself as well. He learned how to sit on the horse, how to work with the stallion’s powerful muscles, not just bounce on his back, and he discovered that the animal’s sensitivity to