The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [233]
Most soils were either a mixture of rich loess and black loams or sands and alluvial gravels, with an occasional outcrop of ancient rock interrupting the flat relief. Those isolated highlands were usually forested with conifers, which sometimes extended down to the plains, providing a place for several species of animals that could not live on the open ground exclusively; life was richest at the margins. But with all the complexity, the primary vegetation was still grass. Tallgrass and short steppe grasses and herbs, feather grasses and fescues, the central steppic plains were an extraordinarily rich, abundantly productive grassland blowing in the wind.
As Ayla and Jondalar left the southern plains and approached the cold north, the season seemed to progress more quickly than usual. The wind in their faces carried a hint of the earth-chilling cold of its source. The inconceivably massive accumulation of glacial ice, stretching over vast areas of northern lands, lay directly in front of them, within a walking distance much less than they had already traveled.
With the changing season, the increasing force of the icy air held a deep undercurrent of its potential power. The rains diminished and finally ceased altogether as ragged streaks of white replaced the thunder-heads, the clouds torn to shreds by the strong steady winds. Sharp blasts tore the dry leaves from deciduous trees and scattered them in a loose carpet at their feet. Then, in a sudden change of mood, a sudden updraft lifted the brittle skeletons of summer growth, churned them around furiously and, tiring of the game, resettled them in another place.
But the dry, cold weather was more to the travelers’ liking, familiar, even comfortable with their fur-lined hoods and parkas. Jondalar had been told correctly; hunting was easy in the central plains and the animals were fat and healthy after a summer of eating. It was also the time of year when many grains, fruits, nuts, and roots were ripe for harvesting. They had no need to use their emergency traveling food, and they even replenished supplies they had used when they killed a giant deer, then decided to stop and rest for a few days while they dried the meat. Their faces glowed with vigorous health and the happiness of being alive and in love.
The horses were rejuvenated, too. It was their milieu, the climate and conditions to which they had been adapted. Their heavy coats fluffed out with winter growth, and they were frisky and eager each morning. The wolf, nose pointed into the wind, picking up scents familiar to the deep instinctive recesses of his brain, loped contentedly along, made occasional forays on his own, then suddenly appeared again, looking smug, Ayla thought.
River crossings presented no problems. Most waterways ran parallel to the north-south direction of the Great Mother River, though they splashed through some that crossed the plain, but the patterns were unpredictable. The channels meandered so widely they weren’t always sure if a stream running across their path was a turn in the river or one of the few streams coming down from higher ground. Some parallel channels ended abruptly in a westerly flowing stream that, in turn, emptied into another channel of the Mother.
Though they sometimes had to detour from their northerly direction because of a wide swing of the river, it was the kind of open grassland that made traveling on horseback such an advantage over traveling on foot. They made exceptionally good time, covering such long distances each day that they made up for previous delays. Jondalar was pleased to think that they were even compensating,