The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [98]
Ayla, on the side facing the opposite shore, was not at all familiar with using a paddle. It took several tries, with Jondalar giving advice while he was trying to row away from the shore, before she got the hang of it, and managed to use it in cooperation with him to direct the boat. Even then, it was slow going, with the long poles in front and the horses behind, eyes rolling with fear as they were involuntarily pulled along by the current.
They did begin to make progress in crossing the river, though they were traveling much faster downstream. But ahead, the large swift waterway, surging down the gradual decline of the land on its way to the sea, was making a sharp curve toward the east. A back current, eddying off a projecting sand spit of the near shore, caught the poles that were racing along in front of the boat.
The long shafts of birch, free-floating except for the cords that held them, turned back around and hit the hide-covered boat with a hard bump near Jondalar, making him fear that it had caused a hole. It jarred everyone aboard, and gave a spin to the small round bowl boat, which jerked on the lead ropes of the horses. The horses whinnied in panic, swallowing mouthfuls of water, and tried desperately to swim away, but the relentless current pulling the boat to which they were tied inexorably pulled them along.
But their efforts were not without effect. They caused the little boat to be jerked back and twist around, which yanked on the poles, making them bang into the boat again. The turbulent current, and the jerking and bumping of the overloaded craft, made it bob and bounce and ship water, adding more weight. It was threatening to sink.
The frightened wolf had been cowering with his tail between his legs beside Ayla on the folded tent, while she was frantically trying to steady the boat with a paddle she didn’t know how to use, with Jondalar shouting instructions she didn’t know how to apply. The whinnying of the panicked horses turned her attention to them and, seeing their fear, she suddenly realized she had to cut them free. Dropping her paddle to the bottom of the boat, she took her knife from the sheath at her waist. Knowing that Racer was more excitable, she worked at his rope first, and with only a little effort the sharp flint blade cut through.
His release caused more bumping and spinning, which was just too much for Wolf. He leaped from the boat into the water. Ayla watched him swimming frantically, quickly cut through Whinney’s rope, and jumped in after him.
“Ayla!” Jondalar screamed, but he was jerked around again as the suddenly released and lighter-weight boat started rotating and crashing into the poles. When he looked up, Ayla was trying to tread water, encouraging the wolf who was swimming toward her. Whinney, and beyond her, Racer, were heading for the far shore, and the current was taking him even faster downstream, away from Ayla.
She glanced back and caught one last glimpse of Jondalar and the boat as it rounded the bend of the river and felt a heart-stopping moment of fear that she would never see him again. The thought flashed through her mind that she should not have left the boat, but she had little time to worry about it just then. The wolf was coming to her, struggling against the current. She took a few strokes toward him, but when she reached him, he tried to put his paws on her shoulders and lick her face and in his eagerness he dunked her under the water. She came up sputtering, hugged him with one