The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [15]
“What do you think?” Thonolan asked, gesturing toward the stream. “It’s about where Dalanar said she would be.”
“If that’s Donau, we should know soon enough. We’ll know we are following the Great Mother River when we reach three small rivers that come together and flow east; that’s what he said. I’d guess almost any of these runoffs should lead us to her eventually.”
“Well, let’s keep to the left now. Later she won’t be so easy to cross.”
“That’s true, but the Losadunai live on the right, and we can stop at one of their Caves. The left side is supposed to be flathead country.”
“Jondalar, let’s not stop at the Losadunai,” Thonolan said with an earnest smile. “You know they’ll want us to stay, and we stayed too long already with the Lanzadonii. If we’d left much later, we wouldn’t have been able to cross the glacier at all. We would have had to go around, and north of it is really flathead country. I want to get moving, and there won’t be many flatheads this far south. And so what if there are? You’re not afraid of a few flatheads, are you? You know what they say, killing a flathead is like killing a bear.”
“I don’t know,” the tall man said, his worry lines puckered. “I’m not sure I’d want to tangle with a bear. I’ve heard flatheads are clever. Some people say they are almost human.”
“Clever, maybe, but they can’t talk. They’re just animals.”
“It’s not the flatheads I’m worried about, Thonolan. The Losadunai know this country. They can get us started right. We don’t have to stay long, just long enough to get our bearings. They can give us some landmarks, some idea of what to expect. And we can talk to them. Dalanar said some of them speak Zelandonii. I’ll tell you what, if you agree to stop now, I’ll agree to pass the next Caves by until the way back.”
“All right. If you really want to.”
The two men looked for a place to cross the ice-banked stream, already too wide to jump. They saw a tree that had fallen across, making a natural bridge, and headed for it. Jondalar led the way, and, reaching for a handhold, he put a foot on one of the exposed roots. Thonolan glanced around, waiting his turn
“Jondalar! Look out!” he cried suddenly.
A stone whizzed past the tall man’s head. As he dropped to the ground at the warning cry, his hand reached for a spear. Thonolan already had one in his hand and was crouching low, looking in the direction from which the stone had come. He saw movement behind the tangled branches of a leafless bush and let fly. He was reaching for another spear when six figures stepped out from the nearby brush. They were surrounded.
“Flatheads!” Thonolan cried, pulling back and taking aim.
“Wait, Thonolan!” Jondalar shouted. “They’ve got us outnumbered.”
“The big one looks like the leader of the pack. If I get him, the rest may run.” He pulled back his arm again.
“No! They may rush us before we can reach for a second spear. Right now I think we’re holding them off—they’re not making a move.” Jondalar slowly got to his feet, keeping his weapon ready. “Don’t move, Thonolan Let them make the next move. But keep your eye on the big one. He can see you’re aiming for him.”
Jondalar studied the big flathead and had the disconcerting feeling that the large brown eyes staring back were studying him. He had never been so close to one before, and he was surprised. These flatheads did not quite fit his preconceived ideas of them. The big one’s eyes were shaded by overhanging brow ridges that were accentuated by bushy eyebrows. His nose was large, narrow, rather like a beak, and contributed to making his eyes seem more deep-set. His beard, thick and tending to curl, hid his face. It was on a younger one, whose beard was just beginning, that he saw they had no chins, just protruding jaws.