The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [409]
“Have you been out already?” she asked, sitting up and taking a drink of the hot tea. “I do seem to need more sleep lately.” Jondalar waited while she freshened up, had a quick morning meal, and began to dress, trying to refrain from urging her too much.
“Jondalar, I can’t close these pants over my stomach. And that top will never fit. Are you sure you want me to wear this outfit? I don’t want to stretch them out.”
“The pants are most important. It won’t matter if you can’t close them all the way. Do the best you can. You’ll be wearing your other clothes over them. Here are your boots. Where is your parka?” Jondalar said.
As they headed out of the abri, Ayla could see the radiant blue sky and the glowing sunlight streaming down on the ledge. Several people had obviously been up early. The path down to Wood River had been cleared of the accumulation of snow, and limestone gravel from underneath the abri had been strewn on the downslope to make it less slippery. On either side the walls of snow were chest high, but as she looked out over the countryside, she caught her breath.
The landscape was transformed. The glistening white blanket had softened the contours of the land, and the sky seemed even bluer in contrast with a white so brilliant, it hurt the eyes. It was cold; the snow crunched beneath her feet and her breath steamed. She saw several people on the flat flood-plain across The River.
“Careful when you go down the path. It can be dangerous. Let me take your hand,” Jondalar said. They reached the bottom and crossed the small frozen river. Some of the people who saw them coming waved and started toward them.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to get up, Ayla,” Folara said. “There’s a place we usually go every year, but it takes half the morning to get there. I asked Jondalar if we could take you, but he said it was too far for you right now. When the snow gets packed down a little more, we can build a seat on a sledge and take turns pulling you. Most of the time sledges are used to pull wood or meat or something. But when they’re not needed for that, we can use them.” She was filli of excitement.
“Slow down, Folara,” Jondalar said.
The snow was so deep that when Ayla tried to walk through it, she floundered, lost her balance, and grabbed for Jondalar, pulling him over with her. They both sat covered with snow, laughing so hard that they couldn’t get up. Folara was laughing, too.
“Don’t just stand there,” Jondalar called out. “Come and help me get Ayla up.” Between them both, they got her back on her feet.
A round white missile flew through the air and landed with a splat on Jondalar’s arm. After looking up and seeing Matagan laughing at him, Jondalar grabbed a handful of snow with both hands and began shaping it into a round ball. He heaved it toward the young man, whom he was considering taking on as an apprentice. Matagan ran away with a limp, but some speed, and the snowball fell short.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Jondalar said.
Ayla had a snowball hidden from view, and as Jondalar approached, she threw it at him. It landed on his chest and snow exploded into his face.
“So you want to play games,” he said, picking up a handful of snow and trying to put it inside the back of her parka. She struggled to get away, and soon both were rolling around in the snow, laughing and trying to get snow into each other’s necks. When they finally sat up, they were both covered from head to foot with the wet white stuff.
They went to the edge of the frozen river, crossed over, and climbed back to the ledge. They passed Marthona’s dwelling on the way to their own, and she had heard them coming.
“Do you really think you should have taken Ayla out there and gotten her wet with snow in her condition, Jondalar?” his mother said. “What if she had fallen down and it started the