The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [382]
“I’m going to go see to the horses,” she said to Jondalar. “Are you coming, or do you have something else to do?”
“I’ll come with you, but wait a moment,” Jondalar said. “I want to get the spear-thrower and spears I’m making for Lanidar. I’m almost finished with them and I’d like to test them out, but I’m too big. I was hoping you might be able to do it. I know they will be small for you, too, but maybe you can get a sense if they will work for him.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine, but I’ll try them,” she said. “The best one to know will be Lanidar himself, and he won’t even know until he gains some real skill. This will give him something to practice with, and I’m sure he’ll be pleased. I have a feeling you are going to make that boy very happy.”
The sun was approaching its zenith when they started gathering up their things. They had brushed the horses, and Ayla checked them over carefully. When the season warmed, flying insects often tried to lay eggs in the moist, warm corners of the eyes of various ruminants, deer and horses in particular. Iza had taught her about the clear fluid from the bluish-white plant that was like a dead thing and that grew in shaded woods. It drew its nourishment from decaying wood since it lacked the living green chlorophyll of other plants, and its waxy surface turned black when touched, but there was no better treatment for sore or inflamed eyes than the cool liquid that oozed from a broken stem.
She had tried out the small spear-thrower and decided it would work just fine for Lanidar. Jondalar had finished the spears he was working on, but decided to make a few more when he saw a small stand of straight young alders with slender trunks, just the right diameter for small spears. He cut down several. Ayla wasn’t sure what it was that made her want to go into the woods beside the creek beyond the horse enclosure.
“Where are you going, Ayla?” Jondalar asked. “We should be heading back. I need to go to the main camp this afternoon.”
“I won’t be long,” she said.
Jondalar could see her moving through the screen of trees and wondered if she had seen something moving back there. Maybe something that could be a danger to the horses. Maybe he should go with her, he was thinking when he heard her cry out in a loud scream.
“No! Oh, no!”
The man raced as fast as his long legs could go toward the sound, crashing through brush and bruising himself banging into a tree. When he reached her, he cried out a denial, too, and dropped to his knees.
35
In the mud at the edge of the small stream, Jondalar bent over Ayla. She was lying almost flat beside the large wolf, who was down on his side, holding his head in her hands. A torn bloody ear was staining the back of her hand. He tried to lick her face.
“It’s Wolf! He’s hurt!” Ayla said. The tears streaming down her face left white streaks through a muddy smudge on her cheek.
“What do you think happened to him?” Jondalar asked.
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to help him,” she said, sitting up. “We need to make a stretcher to carry him to camp.” Wolf tried to get up when she did, but fell back.
“Stay with him, Ayla. I’ll make a stretcher from those spear shafts I just cut,” Jondalar said.
When she and Jondalar brought him in, several people hurried over to see if they could help. It made Ayla understand how many people had come to care about the wolf.
“I’ll make a place for him in the lodge,” Marthona said, going in ahead of them.
“Is there anything I can do?” Joharran said. He had just returned to the camp.
“You can find out if Zelandoni has any comfrey left from Matagan’s injuries, also marigold petals. I think Wolf’s been in a fight with other wolves, and wounds from bites can be bad. They need strong medicine, and they have to be well cleaned,” Ayla said.
“Will you need to boil some water?” Willamar asked. She nodded. “I’ll get a fire going. It’s a good thing we just brought in a load of wood.”
When Joharran came back from the zelandonia lodge, Folara and Proleva were with him, and Zelandoni