The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [440]
They landed at the bottom of the falls with another splash, and soon they were floating calmly in the middle of a small lake of cloudy green glacier melt. Wolf was so happy that he was all over both of them, licking their faces. He finally sat down and lifted his head in a howl of greeting.
Jondalar looked at the woman, “Ayla, we made it! We made it! We’re over the glacier!”
“We did, didn’t we?” she said, smiling broadly.
“That was a dangerous thing to do, though,” he said. “We could have been hurt, or even killed.”
“It may have been dangerous, but it was fun,” Ayla said, her eyes still sparkling with excitement.
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and for all his concern about getting her home safely, he had to smile. “You’re right. It was fun, and fitting, somehow. I don’t think I’ll ever try to cross a glacier again. Twice in one lifetime is enough, but I’m glad I can say I did it, and I’ll never forget that ride.”
“Now, all we have to do is reach that land over there,” Ayla said, pointing toward the shore, “and then find Whinney and Racer.”
The sun was setting, and, between the blinding brightness at the horizon and twilight’s deceptive shadows, it was difficult to see. The evening chill had brought the temperature to below freezing again. They could see the comforting security of the black loam of solid ground, intermixed with patches of snow, around the perimeter of the lake, but they didn’t know how to get there. They had no paddle, and they had left the pole on top of the glacier.
But although the lake seemed calm, the fast-flowing glacial melt gave it an undercurrent that was slowly taking them toward the shore. When they were close, they both jumped out of the boat, followed by the wolf, and pulled it up on the land. Wolf shook himself, spraying water, but neither Ayla nor Jondalar noticed. They were in each other’s arms, expressing their love and their relief at having actually reached solid ground.
“We did make it. We’re almost home, Ayla. We’re almost home,” Jondalar said, holding her, grateful that she was there to be held.
The snow around the lake was beginning to refreeze, turning soft slush into hard-crusted ice. They walked across the gravel in the near dark holding hands, until they reached a field. There was no wood for a fire, but they didn’t care. They ate the dry concentrated traveling food that had been their sustenance on the ice, and they drank water from bags filled on the glacier. Then they set up their tent and spread out their sleeping furs, but before they settled in, Ayla looked across the darkened landscape and wondered where the horses were.
She whistled for Whinney and waited to hear the sound of hooves, but no horses came. She looked up at the swirling clouds above and wondered where they were, then whistled again. It was too dark to look for them now; it would have to wait until morning. Ayla crawled into her sleeping furs beside the tall man and reached for the wolf who was curled up beside her place. She thought about the horses as she sank into an exhausted sleep.
The man looked at the tousled blond hair of the woman beside him, her head resting comfortably in the hollow beneath his shoulder, and he changed his mind about getting up. There was no longer a need to keep moving, but the absence of worry left him at loose ends. He had to keep reminding himself they were over the glacier; they didn’t have to hurry any more. They could lie around in their sleeping furs all day if they wanted to.
The glacier was behind them now, and Ayla was safe. He shivered at the thought of her close call, and he tightened his hold on her. The woman raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him. She loved looking at him. The dim light inside the hide tent softened the vivid blue of his eyes, and his forehead, so often knotted in concentration or concern, was relaxed now. She ran a finger lightly across the worry lines, then traced his features.
“Do you know, before I saw you I tried to imagine how a man would look. Not a man of the Clan, one like me. I never could.