The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [16]
She turned to look for the wolf and saw him following close behind the mare, sniffing the ground. He stopped, lifting his head to catch another scent, then disappeared into the grass on her left. She saw a large blue dragonfly with spotted wings, disturbed by the wolf’s passage through the dense living screen, hovering near the place he had been, as though marking it. A short time later, a squawk and a whir of wings preceded the sudden appearance of a great bustard taking to the air. Ayla reached for her sling, wrapped around her head across her forehead. It was a handy place to keep it to get it quickly, and it kept her hair out of the way besides.
But the huge bustard—at twenty-five pounds the heaviest bird on the steppes—was a speedy flier for its size, and it was out of range before she got a stone out of her pouch. She watched the mottled bird with dark-tipped white wings building up speed, its head stretched forward, its legs backward, as it flew away, wishing she had known what Wolf had scented. The bustard would have made a wonderful meal for all three of them, with plenty left over.
“Too bad we weren’t faster,” Jondalar said.
Ayla noticed he was putting a light spear and his spear-thrower back in his pack basket. She nodded as she wrapped her leather sling back around her head. “I wish I had learned to use Brecie’s throwing stick. It’s so much faster. When we stopped by that marsh where all the birds were nesting on the way to hunt mammoths, it was hard to believe how quick she was with it. And she could get more than one bird at a time.”
“She was good. But she probably practiced as long with that throwing stick as you did with your sling. I don’t think that kind of skill is something to be gained in one season.”
“But if this grass wasn’t so tall, I might have been able to see what Wolf was going after in time to get my sling and some stones out. I thought it was probably a vole.”
“We should keep our eyes open for anything else that Wolf might scare up,” Jondalar said.
“I had my eyes open. I just can’t see anything!” Ayla said. She looked at the sky to check the position of the sun, and she stretched up to try to see over the grass. “But you’re right. It wouldn’t hurt to think about getting fresh meat for tonight. I’ve seen all kinds of plants that are good to eat. I was going to stop and gather some, but they seem to be all over, and I’d rather do it later and have them fresh, not after they’ve wilted in this hot sun. We still have some of the bison roast left that we got from Feather Grass Camp, but it will only last one more meal, and there’s no reason to use the dried traveling meat at this time of year, when there is plenty of fresh food around. How much longer before we stop?”
“I don’t think we’re far from the river—it’s getting cooler, and this high grass usually grows in lowlands around water. Once we reach it, we can start looking for a place to camp as we go downriver,” Jondalar said, starting out again.
The stand of high grass extended all the way to the river’s edge, though it was intermixed with trees near the damp bank. They stopped to let the horses drink, and they dismounted to quench their own thirst, using a small, tightly woven basket as a dipper and cup. Wolf soon darted out of the grass, noisily lapped up his own drink, then plopped down and watched Ayla, with his tongue hanging out, panting heavily.
Ayla smiled. “Wolf is hot, too. I think he has been exploring,” she said. “I’d like to know all the things he’s found out. He sees a lot more than we do in this high grass.”
“I’d like to get beyond it before we make camp. I’m used to seeing farther and this makes me feel closed in. I don’t know what’s out there, and I like knowing what’s around me,” Jondalar said, as he reached for his mount. Holding on to Racer’s back just below his stiff, stand-up mane, with a strong jump the man threw a leg over and, bracing himself with his arms, landed lightly astride the sturdy stallion. He guided the horse away from the softened