The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [201]
“You’re right. She would,” Jondalar said. “Thank you. I know it will mean a great deal to Marthona.”
“Where is Ayla? I have something to give her, too. I hope she will have room for it,” Roshario said.
“She’s in with Tholie, packing,” Jondalar said. “She doesn’t really want to leave, yet, not until your arm is healed. But we really can’t wait any longer.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Roshario fell into step beside him as they walked toward the dwellings. “Ayla took off the old birchbark and put on a fresh piece yesterday. Except that it’s smaller from not using it, my arm seems healed, but she wants me to keep this on for a while longer. She says once I start using my arm again, it will fill out.”
“I’m sure it will.”
“I don’t know what is taking the runner and the Shamud so long to get here, but Ayla has explained what to do, not only to me, but to Dolando, Tholie, Carolio, and several others. We’ll manage without her, I’m sure—although we would rather you both stayed. It’s not too late to change your mind…”
“It means more to me than I can tell you, Roshario, that you would welcome us so willingly … especialy with Dolando, and Ayla’s … upbringing…”
She stopped and looked at the tall man. “That’s bothered you, hasn’t it?”
Jondalar felt the red heat of embarrassment. “It did,” he admitted. “It really doesn’t any more, but knowing how Dolando felt about them, that you would still accept her, makes it … I can’t explain it. It relieves me. I don’t want her to be hurt. She’s been through enough.”
“She’s stronger for it, though.” Roshario studied him, noted the frown of concern, the troubled look in his stunning blue eyes. “You’ve been gone a long time, Jondalar. You’ve known many people, learned other customs, other ways, even other languages. Your own people may not know you any more—you are not even the same person you were when you left here—and they will not be quite the people you remember. You will think of each other as you were, not as you are now.”
“I’ve worried so much about Ayla, I hadn’t thought of that, but you are right. It has been a long time. She might fit in better than I. They will be strangers, and she will learn about them very quickly, the way she always does…”
“And you will have expectations,” Roshario said, starting toward the wooden shelters again. Before they entered, the woman stopped again. “You will always be welcome here, Jondalar. Both of you.”
“Thank you, but it’s such a long way to travel. You have no idea how long, Roshario.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But you do, and you are used to traveling. If you should ever decide that you want to come back, it won’t seem so long.”
“For someone who never dreamt of making a long Journey, I have already traveled more than I want,” Jondalar said. “Once I get back, I think my Journeying days will be over. You were right when you said it was time to settle, but it might make getting used to home easier knowing that I have a choice.”
When they pushed the entrance flap aside, they found only Markeno inside. “Where’s Ayla?” Jondalar asked.
“She and Tholie went to get the plants she was drying. Didn’t you see them, Roshario?”
“We came from the field. I thought she was here,” Jondalar said.
“She was. Ayla’s been telling Tholie about some of her medicines. After she looked at your arm yesterday, and started explaining what to do for you, they’ve been talking about nothing but plants, and what they are good for. That woman knows a lot, Jondalar.”
“I know it! I don’t know how she remembers it all.”
“They went out this morning and came back with basketfuls. All kinds. Even tiny yellow threads of plants. Now she’s explaining how to prepare them,” Markeno said. “It’s a shame you are leaving, Jondalar. Tholie is going to miss Ayla. We