The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [10]
“This river is faster than he’s used to, and he can’t walk up to it. He has to jump in, and he’s never done that before,” Ayla said.
“What are you going to do?”
“If I can’t encourage him to jump, I’ll have to go get him,” she replied.
“Ayla, I’m sure if we just rode off, he’d jump in and follow you. If we’re going to travel any distance at all today, we have to go.”
The withering look of disbelief and anger that appeared on her face made Jondalar wish he could take back his words. “Would you like to be left behind because you were afraid? He doesn’t want to jump into the river because he hasn’t done anything like it before. What can you expect?”
“I just meant … he’s only a wolf, Ayla. Wolves cross rivers all the time. He just needs some reason to jump in. If he didn’t catch up with us, we’d come back for him. I didn’t mean that we should leave him here.”
“You won’t have to worry about coming back for him. I’ll get him now,” Ayla said, turning her back on the man and urging Whinney into the water.
The young wolf was still whining, sniffing the broken ground left by the horses’ hooves, and looking at the people and the horses across the watery trench. Ayla called out to him again as the horse entered the current. About halfway across, Whinney felt the ground beneath her giving way. She whinnied with alarm, trying to find firmer footing.
“Wolf! Come here, Wolf! It’s only water. Come on, Wolf! Jump in!” Ayla called out, trying to coax the apprehensive young animal into the swirling river. She slid off Whinney’s back, deciding she would swim across to the steep bank. Wolf finally got up his courage and jumped in. He landed with a splash and started swimming toward her. “That’s it! That’s good, Wolf!”
Whinney was backing around, struggling with her footing, and Ayla, with her arm around the wolf, was trying to reach her. Jondalar was already there, up to his chest in water, steadying the mare and starting toward Ayla. They all reached the other side together.
“We’d better hurry if we’re going to travel any distance today,” Ayla said, eyes still flashing anger as she started to remount the mare.
“No,” Jondalar said, holding her back. “We’re not leaving until you change out of those wet clothes. And I think we should rub down the horses to dry them off, and maybe that wolf, too. We’ve traveled far enough today. We can camp here tonight. It took me four years to get here. I don’t care if it takes four years to get back, just so I get you there safely, Ayla.”
As she looked up at him, the look of concern and love in his rich blue eyes melted her last vestiges of anger. She reached for him as he bent his head to her, and she felt the same unbelievable wonder that she had felt the first time he put his lips on hers and showed her what a kiss was, and an inexpressible joy in knowing that she was actually traveling with him, going home with him. She loved him more than she knew how to express, even more now after the long winter when she had thought he didn’t love her and would leave without her.
He had feared for her when she went back into the river and now he pressed her to him, holding her. He loved her more than he ever believed it was possible for him to love anyone. Until Ayla, he didn’t know he could love so much. He nearly lost her once. He had been sure she was going to stay with the dark man with the laughing eyes, and he couldn’t bear the thought that he might lose her again.
With two horses and a wolf for companions, in a world that had never before known they could be tamed, a man stood alone with the woman he loved in the middle of a vast, cold grassland, filled with a great abundance and diversity of animals, but few humans, and contemplated a Journey that would stretch across a continent. Yet there were times when the mere thought that any harm might come to her could overwhelm him with such fear, he almost couldn’t breathe. At those moments, he wished he could hold her forever.
Jondalar felt the warmth of her body and her willing mouth on his, and he felt his need for her