The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [144]
They headed north toward the mountain, downhill off the knoll for a space, then leveled out. In front of them, like an immense wall, was a long line of huge trees, the beginning of a deep, dense, mixed forest of hardwood and evergreens. The moment they stepped within the shade of the high canopy of leaves, they found themselves in a different world. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust from the bright sun to the dim silent umbra of the primeval forest, but they felt the cool damp air immediately and smelled the rich dank luxuriance of growth and decay.
Thick moss covered the ground in a seamless blanket of green and climbed over boulders, spread over the rounded shapes of ancient trees long fallen, and circled disintegrating standing stumps and living trees impartially. The large wolf running ahead jumped up on a mossy log. He broke through the ancient rotted core that was slowly dissolving back into the soil, exposing writhing white grubs surprised by the light of day. The man and woman soon dismounted to make it easier to find their way across a forest floor littered with the remnants of life and its regenerating offspring.
Seedlings sprouted from mossy rotting logs, and saplings vied for a place in the sun where a lightning-struck tree had taken several more down with it. Flies buzzed around the nodding, pink-flowered spikes of wintergreen in the bright rays that reached the forest floor through a break in the canopy. The silence was uncanny; the smallest sounds were amplified. They spoke in whispers for no reason.
Fungus was rampant; mushrooms of every variety could be found almost anyplace they looked. Leafless herbs like beechdrops, lavender toothwort, and various bright-flowered small orchids, often without green leaves, were everywhere, growing from the roots of other living plants or their decaying remains. When Ayla saw several small, pale, waxy, leafless stems with nodding heads she stopped to collect some.
“This will help soothe Wolf’s and the horses’ eyes,” she explained, and Jondalar noticed a warm, sad smile playing across her face. “It’s the plant Iza used for my eyes when I cried.”
While she was at it, she picked some mushrooms that she was certain were edible. Ayla never took chances: she was very careful about mushrooms. Many varieties were delicious, many were not very tasty but not harmful, some were good as medicine, some would make a person mildly sick, a few could help one see spirit worlds, and a few were deadly. And some of them could be easily confused with others.
They had trouble moving the travois with its widely spaced poles through the forest. It kept getting caught between trees growing close together. When Ayla first developed the simple but efficient method of utilizing the strength of Whinney to help her transport objects too heavy for her to carry by herself, she devised a way for the horse to climb the steep narrow path to her cave by bringing the poles closer together. But with the bowl boat mounted on it, they couldn’t move the long poles, and it was difficult getting around objects while dragging them. The travois was very effective over rough terrain, it did not get stuck in holes or ditches or mud, but it needed an open landscape.
They struggled for the rest of the afternoon. Jondalar finally untied the bowl boat entirely and dragged it himself. They were beginning to think seriously of leaving it behind. It had been more than helpful in crossing the many rivers and smaller tributaries that had flowed into the Great Mother, but they weren’t sure if it was worth the trouble it was taking to get it through the thick growth of trees. Even if there were many more rivers ahead, they could certainly get across them without the boat, and it was slowing them down.
Darkness caught them still in the forest. They set up camp for the night, but they both felt uneasy and more exposed than in the middle of the wide steppes. Out in the