The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [44]
“I was sure my spear had found that bear,” the man said, “but I couldn’t see where it hit. I’d better track it in the morning. A wounded bear can be dangerous, and we don’t know who will be using this campsite next.”
Ayla came to examine the trail. “I think it’s losing a lot of blood. It may not go far,” she said, “but I was worried about Wolf. That was a big animal. It could have hurt him.”
“I’m not sure if Wolf should have attacked like that. He could have caused that bear to go after someone else, but it was a brave thing to do, and I’m glad to know he’s so quick to protect you. I wonder what he’d do if anyone ever really tried to hurt you,” Jondalar said.
“I don’t know, but Whinney and Racer were anxious about that bear. I think I’ll see how they are.”
Jondalar wanted to check on them, too. They found the horses had moved in close to the fire. Whinney had learned long ago that the fire made by people usually meant security, and Racer was learning from his own experience, as well as from his dam. They seemed to relax after the comforting words and touches of the people they trusted, but Ayla felt uneasy and knew she’d have trouble going back to sleep. She decided to make herself some calming tea and went into the tent to get her otter-skin medicine bag.
While the cooking stones were heating, she stroked the fur of the worn bag, remembering when Iza gave it to her and recalling her life with the Clan, especially the last day. Why did Creb have to go back into the cave? she thought. He might still be alive, even though he was getting old and weak. But he wasn’t weak during that last ceremony the night before, when he made Goov the new Mog-ur. He was strong again, The Mog-ur, just like before. Goov will never be as powerful as Creb was.
Jondalar noticed her pensive mood. He thought she was still thinking about the child who had died and the son she would never see again, and he didn’t quite know what to say. He wanted to help but didn’t want to intrude. They were sitting together close to the fire, sipping the tea, when Ayla happened to look up at the sky. She caught her breath.
“Look, Jondalar,” she said. “In the sky. It’s red, like a fire, but high up and far away. What is it?”
“Ice Fire!” he said. “That’s what we call it when it’s red like that, or sometimes Fires of the North.”
They watched the luminous display for a while as the northern lights arced across the sky like gossamer drapes blowing in a cosmic wind. “It has white bands in it,” Ayla said, “and it’s moving, like streaks of smoke, or white chalky water rippling through it. And other colors, too.”
“Star Smoke,” Jondalar said. “That’s what some people call it, or Star Clouds when it’s white. It has different names. Most people know what you mean when you use any name like that.”
“Why haven’t I seen this light in the sky before, I wonder?” Ayla said, feeling awe, and a touch of fear.
“Maybe you lived too far south. That’s why it is also called Fires of the North. I haven’t seen it very often and never this strong, or this red, but people who have made northern Journeys claim the farther north you go, the more you see it.”
“But you can only go as far north as the wall of ice.”
“You can travel north beyond the ice, if you go by water. West of the place where I was born, several days’ distance, depending on the season, the land comes to an end at the edge of the Great Waters. It is very salty, and it never freezes, although large chunks of ice are sometimes seen. They say some people have traveled beyond the wall of ice in boats, when they are hunting animals that live in the water,” Jondalar said.
“You mean like the bowl boats the Mamutoi used to cross rivers?”
“Like them, I think, but bigger and stronger. I never saw them, and I wasn’t sure if I believed the stories until I met the Sharamudoi and saw the boats they make. Many trees grow along the Mother River, near their Camp, big trees. They make boats out of them. Wait until you meet them. You won