The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [371]
Ayla was not looking forward to the Matrimonial Ceremony at all, though she knew she should have been. She knew how much Ranec loved her, and she believed she could be happy with him. The idea of having a baby like Tricie’s filled her with delight. In her own mind, Ayla knew beyond doubt that Ralev was Ranec’s child. It was not the result of any mixing of spirits. She was sure that he had started the child with his own essence when he shared Pleasures with Tricie. Ayla liked the red-haired woman, and felt sorry for her. She decided she would not mind sharing Ranec and the hearth with her and Ralev, if Tricie wanted to.
It was only in the darkest depths of night that Ayla admitted to herself that she might be just as happy not living at Ranec’s hearth at all. She had generally avoided sleeping with him during the trip out, except for a few occasions when he seemed to be in special need of her, not physically, but because he wanted reassurance and closeness. On the way back, she had not been able to share Pleasures with Ranec. Instead, in her bed at night, she could think only of Jondalar. The same questions went through her mind over and over again, but she could come to no conclusion.
When she thought of the day of the hunt, of her close call with the bull mammoth, and of the look of aching need in Jondalar’s eyes, she wondered if it was possible that he still loved her. Then why had he been so distant all winter? Why had he stopped finding Pleasure in her? Why had he left the Mammoth Hearth? She remembered that day on the steppes the first time he rode Racer. When she thought of his desire, his need, and her willing and eager acceptance, she could not sleep for wanting him, but the memory was clouded by his rejection, and her feelings of pain and confusion.
After one particularly long day, and a late meal, Ayla was among the first to leave the fire and head for the tent. She had turned down Ranec’s hopeful, implied request to share his furs with a smile and a comment about being tired after the day’s trek, and then, seeing his disappointment, felt bad. But she was tired, and very uncertain about her feelings. She caught sight of Jondalar near the horses before she entered the tent. He was turned away from her, and she watched him, unintentionally fascinated by the shape of his body, the way he moved, the way he stood. She knew him so well, she thought she could recognize him by the shadow he cast. Then she noticed her body had responded to him unintentionally, too. She was breathing faster and her face was flushed, and she felt so drawn to him, she started in his direction.
But it’s no use, she thought. If I went over to talk to him, he would just back away, make some excuses, and then go find someone else to talk to. Ayla went into the tent, still full of the feelings he had caused in her, and crawled into her furs.
She had been tired, but now she couldn’t sleep, and tossed and turned, trying to deny her yearning for him. What was wrong with her? He didn’t seem to want her, why should she want him? But then why did he look at her that way sometimes? Why did he want her so much that time on the steppes? It was as though he was so drawn to her he couldn’t help it. A thought struck her then, and she frowned. Maybe he was drawn to her, the way she was drawn to him, but maybe he didn’t want to be. Had that been the problem all along?
She felt herself redden again, but this time with chagrin. Thinking about it that way, it suddenly seemed to make sense, all his avoiding her and running away from her. Was it because