The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [38]
“I don’t think she’d put him aside, though. I think she cares for him, for all that he can be so nasty sometimes. It wasn’t so easy to find another man—one willing to take her mother. Everyone saw how it was the first time, no one else wanted to put up with Crozie. That old woman can scream all she wants about giving her daughter away. She’s the one who brought down Fralie’s value. I’d hate to be pulled both ways like that. But I’m lucky. Even if I were going to an established Camp instead of starting a new one with my brother, Tulie would be welcome.”
“Your mother go with you?” Ayla said, puzzled. She understood a woman moving to her mate’s clan, but taking her mother along was new to her.
“I wish she would, but I don’t think she will. I think she’d rather stay here. I don’t blame her. It’s better to be headwoman of your own Camp than the mother of one at another. I will miss her, though.”
Ayla listened, fascinated. She didn’t understand half of what Deegie said, and wasn’t sure if she believed she understood the other half.
“It is sad to leave mother, and people,” Ayla said. “But you have mate soon?”
“Oh, yes. Next summer. At the Summer Meeting. Mother finally got everything settled. She set such a high Bride Price I was afraid they’d never meet it, but they agreed. It’s so hard waiting, though. If only Branag didn’t have to leave now. But they’re expecting him. He promised he’d go back right away.…”
The two young women walked toward the entrance of the longhouse together, companionably, Deegie chatting and Ayla avidly listening.
It was cooler in the entrance foyer, but it wasn’t until she felt the blast of cold air when the drape at the front arch was pulled back that Ayla realized how much the temperature had dropped. The frigid wind whipped her hair back and tugged at the heavy mammoth hide entrance cover, billowing it out with a sudden gust. A light dusting of snow had fallen during the night. A sharp crosscurrent picked up the fine flakes, swirled them into pockets and hollows, then scooped out the wind-blasted crystals and flung them across the open space. Ayla’s face stung with a peppering of tiny hard pellets of ice.
Yet it had been warm inside, much warmer than a cave. She had put on her fur parka only to come out; she wouldn’t have needed extra clothing if she had stayed in. She heard Whinney neigh. The horse and the colt, still tied to his lead, were as far back as they could get from the people and their activities. Ayla started toward them, then turned back to smile at Deegie. The young woman smiled back, and went to find Branag.
The mare seemed relieved when Ayla neared, nickering and tossing her head in greeting. The woman removed Racer’s bridle, then walked with them down toward the river and around the bend. Whinney and Racer relaxed once the Camp was out of sight, and after some mutual affection, settled down to graze on the brittle dry grass.
Before starting back up Ayla stopped beside a bush. She untied the waist thong of her legged garment, but still was not sure what to do so the leggings wouldn’t get wet when she passed water. She’d had the same problem ever since she started wearing the clothes. She had made the outfit for herself during the summer, patterning it after the one she had made for Jondalar, which was copied from the clothing the lion had ripped. But she hadn’t worn it until they started on their trip of exploration. Jondalar had been so pleased to see her wearing clothes like his, rather than the comfortable leather wrap usually worn by women of the Clan, she decided to leave it behind. But she hadn’t discovered how to manage this basic necessity easily and she