The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [105]
There was a tendency for the current to drag at the boat and poles, which worried Ayla, especially after the way Whinney and Racer had panicked when they were being pulled into a situation on the other river over which they had no control. She decided to redesign the leather straps of the harness so that she could cut it loose in an instant if it seemed to endanger her mare, but the horse compensated for the tug of the stream and accepted the burden with little trouble. Ayla had taken the time to let the horse get familiar with the new idea, and Whinney was used to the travois and trusted the woman.
But the large open bowl was a container that invited filling. They started using it to carry wood, dry dung, and other materials for burning that they picked up along the way for the evening fire, and sometimes they left their pack baskets in the boat after crossing water. There had been several streams of various sizes that had found their way to the inland sea, and Jondalar knew that many tributaries would cut across their path as they continued their Journey, traveling beside the Great Mother River.
As they waded into the clear water of the outside channel of the delta, the stallion shied and whinnied nervously. Racer was uneasy about rivers since his frightening adventure, but Jondalar had been very patient about guiding the sensitive young animal across the smaller waterways they had met, and the horse was overcoming his fear. It pleased the man, since many more rivers would have to be crossed before they reached his home.
The water was slow moving, but so transparent that they could see fish swimming among the water plants. After making their way through the tall reeds, they gained the long, narrow island. Wolf was the first to reach the tongue of land. He shook himself vigorously, then ran up the sloping shore of hard-packed wet sand mixed with clay, which led to a bordering woods of beautiful silver-green sallows grown to the size of trees.
“I knew it,” Ayla said.
“What did you know?” Jondalar said, smiling at her satisfied expression.
“These trees are just like those bushes we slept in that night it rained so hard. I thought they were sallows, but I’ve never seen any the size of trees before. Sallows are usually bushes, but these could be willows.”
They dismounted and led the horses into the cool airy woods. Walking in silence, they noticed the shadows of the leaves, swaying in the light breeze, dappling the rich, grassy, sunlit ground cover, and through the light open woodland they saw aurochs grazing in the distance. They were downwind, and, when the wild cattle caught their scent, the animals moved away rapidly. They’ve been hunted by people, Jondalar thought.
The horses clipped off mouthfuls of the green fodder with their front teeth as well, while they moved through the delightful wooded land, prompting Ayla to stop and begin untying Whinney’s harness.
“Why are you stopping here?” Jondalar asked.
“The horses want to graze. I thought we might stop for a while.”
Jondalar looked worried. “I think we should go a little farther. I’m sure there are people on this island, and I’d like to know who they are before we stop.”
Ayla smiled. “That’s right! You did say this was where the smoke was coming from. It’s so beautiful here—I almost forgot.”
The terrain had been gradually rising in elevation, and farther inland alders, poplars, and white willows began to appear in the sallow woods, lending variation to the light grayish-green foliage. Later a few firs and an ancient variety of pines, which had existed in that region as long as the mountains themselves, added a background of deeper