The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [207]
“Is fighting a Pleasure for males?” Ayla asked.
“I never thought of it that way, but it may be for some,” he acknowledged.
“Do you like to fight with other men?”
Jondalar frowned as he gave the question serious consideration. “I’ve done my share. Sometimes you get drawn into it, for one reason or another, but I can’t say I liked it, not if it’s serious. I don’t mind wrestling or other competitions, though.”
“Men of the Clan don’t fight with each other. It’s not allowed, but they do have competitions,” Ayla said. “Women do, too, but they are a different kind.”
“How are theirs different?”
Ayla paused to think about it. “The men compete in what they do; the women in what they make,” she said, then smiled, “including babies, though that is a very subtle competition, and nearly everyone thinks she is the winner.”
Farther up the mountain, Jondalar noticed a family of mouflon, and he pointed out the wild sheep with huge horns that curled around close to their heads. “Those are the real fighters,” Jondalar said. “When they run at each other and bang their heads together, it sounds almost like a clap of thunder.”
“When stags and rams run at each other with their antlers or horns, do you think they are really fighting? Or are they competing?” Ayla asked.
“I don’t know. They can hurt each other, but they don’t very often. Usually one just gives up when another one shows he is stronger, and sometimes they just strut around and bellow, and don’t fight at all. Maybe it is more competition than actual fight.” He smiled at her. “You do ask interesting questions, woman.”
A fresh cool breeze turned chilly as the sun dipped below the edge of vision. Earlier in the day, light siftings of snow had drifted down and melted in the open sunny spaces, but some had accumulated in the shady nooks, forecasting the possibility of a cold night, and heavier snows to come.
Wolf disappeared shortly after their hide shelter was set up. When he hadn’t returned by dark, Ayla felt anxious about him. “Do you think I should whistle to call him back?” she asked as they were getting ready to settle down for the night.
“It’s not the first time he’s gone off to hunt by himself, Ayla. You’re just used to him being around because you kept him close to you. He’ll be back,” Jondalar said.
“I hope he’s back by morning,” Ayla said, getting up to look around, trying in vain to see into the dark beyond their camp fire.
“He’s an animal; he knows his way. Come back and sit down,” he said. He put another piece of wood on the fire and watched the sparks rising into the sky. “Look at those stars. Did you ever see so many?”
Ayla looked up and a feeling of wonder came over her. “It does seem like a lot. Maybe it’s because we’re closer up here, and we’re seeing more of them, especially the smaller ones … or are they farther away? Do you think they go on and on?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it. Who could ever know?” Jondalar asked.
“Do you think your Zelandonii might?”
“She might, but I’m not sure she’d tell. There are some things only meant for Those Who Serve the Mother to know. You do ask the strangest questions, Ayla,” Jondalar said, feeling a chill. Though he wasn’t sure it was from the cold, he added, “I’m getting cold, and we need to get an early start. Dolando said the rains could begin any time. That could mean snow up here. I’d like to be down from here before that.”
“I’ll be right there. I just want to make sure Whinney and Racer are all right. Maybe Wolf is with them.”
Ayla was still worried when she crawled into their sleeping furs, and she was slow to fall asleep as she strained to hear any sound that might be the animal returning.
It was dark, too dark to see beyond the many, many stars that were streaming out of the fire into the night sky, but she kept looking. Then two stars, two yellow lights in the dark moved together. They were eyes, the eyes of a wolf who was looking at her. He turned and started walking away and she knew he wanted