The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [225]
Jondalar attached a similar rope to Racer; then he took off his boots, his inner foot-coverings, and his heavy outer clothes and furs. When soaked, they would weigh him down, making swimming all but impossible. He wrapped them together and piled them on top of the pack saddle, but he kept his under tunic and leggings on. Even when wet, the leather would provide some warmth. Ayla did the same.
The animals sensed the urgency and anxiety of the humans and were disturbed by the roiling water. The horses had shied away from the dead deer, and they were prancing around with short steps, tossing their heads and rolling their eyes, but their ears were perked up and alertly forward. Wolf, on the other hand, had gone to the edge of the water to investigate the deer, but he didn’t go in.
“How do you think the horses will do, Ayla?” Jondalar asked, as big sloppy raindrops began to fall.
“They’re nervous, but I think they’ll be all right, especially since we will be with them, but I’m not so sure about Wolf,” Ayla said.
“We can’t carry him across. He has to make it on his own—you know that,” Jondalar said. But seeing her distress, he added, “Wolf’s a strong swimmer, he should be all right.”
“I hope so,” she said, kneeling down to give the wolf a hug.
Jondalar noticed that the raindrops were falling thicker and faster. “We better get started,” he said, taking hold of Racer’s halter directly, since the lead rope was fastened farther back. He closed his eyes for a moment and wished for good luck. He thought of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, but he couldn’t think of anything to promise Her in return for their safety. He made a silent request for help in crossing the Sister anyway. Though he knew he would someday, he did not want to meet the Mother just yet, but even more, he did not want to lose Ayla.
The stallion tossed his head and tried to rear as Jondalar led him toward the river. “Easy now, Racer,” the man said. The water was cold as it swirled around his bare feet, and up his covered calves and thighs. Once in the water, Jondalar let go of Racer’s halter, giving him his head, and he wrapped the dangling rope around his hand, relying on the sturdy young stallion to find his way across.
Ayla wrapped the rope that was attached at the top of the mare’s withers around her hand several times, tucking the end in and around, and she closed her fist tightly to hold it. Then she started in behind the tall man, walking beside Whinney. She pulled on the other rope, the one that was fastened to the poles and boat, making sure it did not get tangled as they entered the river.
The young woman felt the cold water and the tug of the strong current immediately. She looked back toward the land. Wolf was still on the riverbank, advancing and retreating, whining anxiously, hesitant to enter the fast-moving river. She called to him, encouragingly. He paced back and forth, looking at the water and the widening distance between him and the woman. Suddenly, just as the rain began to fall in earnest, he sat down and howled. Ayla whistled to him and, after a few more false starts, he finally plunged in and started paddling toward her. She turned her attention back to the horse and the river ahead.
The rain, coming down harder, seemed to flatten out the choppy waves in the distance, but nearby the wild water was even more cluttered with debris than she had thought. Broken trunks and branches swirled around or bumped into her, some still with leaves, others waterlogged and almost hidden. The bloated animals were worse, often torn open by the violence of the flood that had caught them and swept them down the mountain and into the muddy river.
She saw several birch mice and