The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [459]
She was in a long tunnel deep in a cave. Ahead a light flickered. It was an opening to the outside. She was walking up a steep path along a wall of creamy white rock, following a man taking long, eager strides. She knew the place, and she hurried to catch up.
“Wait! Wait for me. I’m coming,” she called out.
“Ayla! Ayla!” Jondalar was shaking her. “Were you having a bad dream?”
“A strange dream, but not a bad dream,” she said. She got up, felt a wave of nausea, and lay back down, hoping it would go away.
Jondalar flapped the leather ground cloth at the pale stallion, and Wolf yipped and harried him, while Ayla slipped a halter over Whinney’s head. She had only a small pack. Racer, tied securely to a tree, carried most of the burden.
Ayla leaped to the mare’s back and urged her to a gallop, guiding her along the edge of the long field. The stallion chased them, but he slowed as they gained distance from the rest of the mares. Finally he pulled to a halt, reared, and neighed, calling to Whinney. He reared again and raced back toward the herd. Several stallions had already tried to take advantage of his absence. He closed in and reared again, screaming a challenge.
Ayla on Whinney kept going, but she slowed down from the fast gallop. When she heard hoofbeats behind, she stopped and waited for Jondalar and Racer, with Wolf on their heels.
“If we hurry, we can be there before dark,” Jondalar said.
Ayla and Whinney fell in beside them. She had the strange feeling that she had done this before.
They rode at a comfortable pace. “I think we are both going to have babies, now,” Ayla said, “our second ones, and we both had sons before. I think that’s good. We can share this time together.”
“You’ll have many people to share your pregnancy with,” Jondalar said.
“I’m sure you are right, but it will be nice to share it with Whinney, too, since we both got pregnant on this Journey.” They rode in silence for a while. “She’s a lot younger than I am, though. I’m old to be having a baby.”
“You’re not so old, Ayla. I’m the old man.”
“I am nineteen years this spring. That’s old to have a baby.”
“I am much older. I am past twenty and three years, by now. That is old for a man to be settling down to his own hearth for the first time. Do you realize I’ve been gone five years? I wonder if anyone will even remember me,” Jondalar said.
“Of course they will remember you. Dalanar didn’t have any trouble, and neither did Joplaya,” Ayla said. Everyone will know him, she thought, but no one will know me.
“Look! See that rock over there? Just beyond the turn in the river? That’s where I made my first kill!” Jondalar said, urging Racer on a little faster. “It was a big deer. I don’t know what I was most afraid of—those big antlers, or missing and going home empty-handed.”
Ayla smiled, pleased at his remembrances, but there was nothing for her to remember. She would be a stranger again. They would all stare at her, and they would ask about her strange accent and where she came from.
“We had a Summer Meeting here once,” Jondalar said. “There were hearths set up all over this place. It was my first after I became a man. Oh, how I strutted, trying to act so old, but so afraid that no young woman would invite me to her First Rites. I guess I didn’t have to worry. I was invited to three, and that scared me even more!”
“There are some people over there, watching us, Jondalar,” Ayla said.
“That’s the Fourteenth Cave!” he said, and waved. No one waved back. Instead they disappeared under a deep overhang.
“It must be the horses,” Ayla said.
He frowned, then shook his head. “They’ll get used to them.”
I hope so, Ayla thought, and me, too. The only thing familiar around here will be Jondalar.
“Ayla! There it is!” Jondalar said. “The Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”
She looked in the direction he was pointing, and she felt herself blanch.
“It’s always easy to find because of that outcrop on top. See, where it looks