The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [402]
They unloaded the horses and set up their camp. Since it was early, they decided to hunt fresh meat. They entered a lightly wooded area and came across deer tracks, which surprised them both and worried Jondalar. He hoped that returning deer were not a sign that spring would soon follow. Ayla signaled Wolf, and they continued through the woods single file, with Jondalar in front. Ayla followed close behind, with Wolf at her heel. She did not want him dashing off and scaring away their prey.
They followed the trail through the open woods toward a high jutting outcrop that blocked their view ahead. Ayla saw Jondalar’s shoulders slump and the tension of his stalking relax, and she understood why when the tracks of the deer showed that it had bounded away. Something had obviously scared it off.
They both froze at the sound of Wolf’s low growl. He sensed something and they had come to respect his warnings. Ayla was sure she heard scuffling noises from the other side of the large rock projecting out of the earth and blocking their path. She and Jondalar looked at each other; the man had heard it too. They crept ahead slowly, edging around the outcrop. Then there were shouts, the sound of something landing heavily, and, almost simultaneously, a scream of agony.
There was a quality to the scream that sent a chill down Ayla’s back, a chill of recognition. “Jondalar! Someone’s in trouble!” she said, dashing around the stone.
“Wait, Ayla! It could be dangerous!” he called in warning, but it was already too late. Clutching his spear, he raced to catch up.
Around the outcrop, several young men were struggling with someone on the ground who was trying to fight them off without much success. Others were making crude remarks to a man who was on his knees and stretched out on top of a person that two others were trying to hold down.
“Hurry up, Danasi! How much more help do you need? This one’s struggling.”
“Maybe he needs help finding it.”
“He just doesn’t know what to do with it.”
“Then give someone else a chance.”
Ayla caught a glimpse of blond hair and, with an angry feeling of disgust, she realized that they were holding down a woman and she knew what they were trying to do. As she ran toward them, she had another insight. Perhaps it was the shape of a leg or an arm, or the sound of a voice, but suddenly she knew it was a Clan woman—a blond Clan woman! She was stunned, but only for a moment.
Wolf was growling, eager, but watching Ayla and holding back.
“It must be Charoli’s band!” Jondalar said, coming up behind her.
He dropped off his hunting pack with his spear holder, and in a few long strides he reached the three men who were molesting the woman. He grabbed the one on top by the back of his parka at the scruff of his neck and yanked him off the woman. Then he stepped around and, doubling up his fist, slammed it into the man’s face. The man dropped to the ground. The other two gaped in shock, then let go of the woman and turned to attack the stranger. One jumped on his back, while the other threw punches at his face and chest. The big man flung off the one on his back, took a hard blow to his shoulder, and countered with a powerful belt to the stomach of the man in front of him.
The woman rolled over and backed off to get away when the two men went after Jondalar, and she ran toward the other group of struggling men. While one man was doubled over in pain, Jondalar turned to the other. Ayla saw the first one struggling to get up.
“Wolf! Help Jondalar! Get those men!” she said, signaling to the animal.
The big wolf raced eagerly into the fray, while she dropped her pack, loosened the sling from around her head, and reached into her pouch for stones. One man of the three was down again, and she watched another, with terror in his eyes, fling up an arm to fend off the huge wolf that was coming for him. The animal jumped up on his hind legs, sank his teeth into the arm of a heavy winter coat, and ripped off the sleeve, while Jondalar