The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [231]
As they backed away and drew together again, he felt so right that she didn’t think at all. His body and hers flowed apart and back together in a rhythmic pattern that she gave herself up to completely as it grew faster, glorying in the senses of that moment. Individual fires of feeling raced through her, centering deep within, as they moved back and forth.
He was feeling himself build with volcanic power, waves of excitement washing over him, engulfing him, and then almost before he knew it, bursting through with sweet release. As he moved the last few times, he felt a few aftershocks from the violent eruption, and then the warm and glowing feeling of utter relaxation.
He lay on top of her, catching his breath after the sudden and powerful exertion. She closed her eyes with contentment. After a time he rolled off and cuddled next to her, as she backed into him. Nesting together like two ladles, they lay quietly, happily entwined together.
After quite a long time, Ayla said softly, “Jondalar?”
“Hmmm?” he mumbled. He was in a pleasant, languorous state, not sleepy, but not wanting to move.
“How many more rivers like that will we have to cross?” she asked.
He reached over and kissed her ear. “None.”
“None?”
“None, because there are no other rivers quite like the Sister,” Jondalar explained.
“Not even the Great Mother River?”
“Not even the Mother is as fast and treacherous, or as dangerous as the Sister,” he said, “but we won’t be crossing the Great Mother River. We’ll stay on this side most of the way to the plateau glacier. When we get close to the ice, there are some people I’d like to visit who live on the other side of the Mother. But that’s a long way from here, and by then she will be little more than a mountain stream.” He rolled over on his back. “Not that we don’t have some good-size rivers to get across yet, but across these plains, the Mother branches into many channels that split off and join again. By the time we see her all together again, she will be so much smaller that you’ll hardly recognize her as the Great Mother River.”
“Without all the water from the Sister, I’m not sure if I’d recognize her,” Ayla said.
“I think you would. As big as the Sister is, when they join, the Mother is still bigger. There is a major river that feeds from the other side just before the Wooded Hills that turn her east. Thonolan and I met some people who took us across on rafts at that place. Several more feeders come in from the big mountains to the west, but we’ll be going north up the center plain, and we won’t even see them.”
Jondalar sat up. The conversation had put him in the mood to think about getting on their way, although they wouldn’t be leaving until the following morning. He was rested and relaxed, and he didn’t feel like staying in bed any more.
“We won’t be crossing many rivers at all until we reach the highlands to the north,” he continued. “At least, that’s what Haduma’s people told me. They say there are a few hills, but it’s pretty flat country. Most of the rivers we’ll see will be channels of the Mother. They say she wanders all over the place through here. It’s good hunting grounds, though. Haduma’s people cross the channels all the time to hunt here.”
“Haduma’s people? I think you told me about them, but you never said much,” Ayla said, getting up as well, and reaching for her pack-saddle basket.
“We didn’t visit with them long, just long enough for a…” Jondalar hesitated, thinking about the First Rites he had shared with the pretty young woman, Noria. Ayla noticed a strange expression, as though he was slightly embarrassed, but also pleased with himself. “ … Ceremony, a festival,” he finished.
“A festival to honor the Great Earth Mother?” Ayla asked.
“Ah … yes, as a matter of fact. They asked me … ah, they asked Thonolan and me, to share it with them.”
“Are we going to visit