The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [297]
As he gained more confidence and became more comfortable, he rode more, which was exactly the kind of practice that was needed, but the more he associated with Racer, the more affection he felt for him, also. He had been fond of him from the beginning, but he was still Ayla’s horse. He kept telling himself he was training Racer for her, but he hated thinking about leaving the young stallion behind.
Jondalar had planned to leave immediately after the Spring Festival, yet he was still there and he wasn’t sure why. He thought of reasons—it was still too early in the unpredictable season, he had promised Ayla he would train Racer—but he knew they were just excuses. Talut thought he was staying to go to the Summer Meeting with them, and Jondalar didn’t try to correct his impression, though he kept telling himself he would be gone before they left. Every night when he went to bed, and particularly if Ayla went to the Fox Hearth, he told himself he was leaving the next day, and every day he put it off. He struggled with himself, but when he seriously thought of packing up and going, he remembered her lying cold and still on the floor of the Mammoth Hearth, and he couldn’t leave.
Mamut had spoken to him the day after the Festival, and told him the root had been too powerful for him to control. It was too dangerous, the shaman said, he would never use it again. He had advised Ayla not to use it either, and cautioned her that she would need strong protection if she ever did. Without actually saying so, the old man implied that somehow Jondalar had reached out to Ayla and was responsible for bringing her back.
The shaman’s words disturbed Jondalar, but he derived a strange sort of comfort from them, too. When the man of the Mammoth Hearth had feared for Ayla’s safety, why had he asked him to stay? And why did Mamut say it was he who brought her back? She was Promised to Ranec, and there was no doubt of the carver’s feeling for her. If Ranec was there, why did Mamut want him? Why didn’t Ranec bring her back? What did the old man know? Whatever it was, Jondalar could not bear the thought of not being there if she needed him again, or of letting her face some terrible danger without him, but neither could he bear the thought of her living with another man. He couldn’t decide whether to go or stay.
“Wolf! Put that down!” Rugie cried, angry and upset. She and Rydag were playing at the Mammoth Hearth where Nezzie had told them to go so she could pack. “Ayla! Wolf has my doll and won’t put her down.”
Ayla was sitting on the middle of her bed surrounded by neat piles of her things. “Wolf! Drop it!” she commanded. “Come here,” she signaled.
Wolf dropped the doll, which was made of scraps of leather, and slunk with his tail between his legs to Ayla. “Up here,” she said, patting the place at the head of her bed where he usually slept. The wolf pup jumped up. “Now, lie down, and don’t bother Rugie and Rydag any more.” He lay down with his head on his paws, staring up at her with woeful, penitent eyes.
Ayla went back to sorting through her things, but soon stopped and watched the two children playing together on the floor of the Mammoth Hearth, not meaning to stare, but intrigued. They were playing “hearths,” making believe they were sharing a hearth the way grown-up women and men did. Their “child” was the leather doll, fashioned into a human shape with a round head, a body, arms and legs, wrapped in a soft skin blanket. It was the doll that fascinated Ayla. She never had a doll; people of the Clan did not make images of any kind, drawn, sculpted, or fashioned out of leather, but it reminded her of a wounded rabbit she once brought back to the cave for Iza to heal. She had cuddled and rocked the rabbit the same way Rugie held and played with the doll.
Ayla knew it was usually Rugie who initiated the games. Sometimes they played that they were joined, other times that they were “leaders,” a brother and sister in charge of their own camp. Ayla watched the little blond girl