The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [153]
She decided to find the wolf and skin it. Wolf fur was warm. Returning, she was surprised to see Baby dragging the antelope, and she realized he intended to haul it all the way to the cave. The male antelope was full grown and Baby was not. It gave her an increased appreciation of his strength—and the power he was still to gain. But if he dragged the antelope all that way, the hide would be damaged. Saiga were widespread, living in mountains as well as the plains, but they were not numerous. She had not hunted one before, and they had a special meaning for her. The saiga antelope had been Iza’s totem. Ayla wanted the hide.
She signaled “Stop!” Baby hesitated only a moment before releasing “his” kill, and, guarding it, he paced anxiously around the travois all the way back to the cave. He watched with more than usual interest while she removed the hide and the horns. When she gave it to him, he dragged the entire skinned carcass to the niche in the far corner. After he gorged, he still maintained a vigil, and he slept close by.
Ayla was amused. She understood he was protecting his kill. He seemed to feel there was something special about this beast. Ayla did, too, for other reasons. Surges of excitement still coursed through her. The speed, the chase, the hunt had been thrilling—but more important, she had a new way to hunt. With the help of Whinney, and now Baby, she could hunt anytime, summer and winter. She felt powerful, and grateful, and she would be able to provide for her Baby.
Then, for no reason she could think of, she checked on Whinney. The horse was lying down, perfectly secure in spite of the proximity of a cave lion. She lifted her head as Ayla approached. The woman stroked the horse, then, feeling a need to be close, she lay beside her. Whinney blew a soft snort of air through her nostrils, content to have the woman near.
Winter hunting with Whinney and Baby, without the arduous task of digging pits, was a game. Sport. From the earliest days of practicing with her sling, Ayla had loved hunting. Each new technique mastered—tracking, the double-stone throw, the pit and spear—brought an additional feeling of accomplishment. But nothing matched the sheer fun of hunting with the horse and the cave lion. They both seemed to enjoy it as much as she. While Ayla made preparations, Whinney tossed her head and danced on her toes, with her ears pricked forward and tail raised, and Baby padded in and out of the cave, making low growls of anticipation. Weather concerned her until Whinney brought her home through a blinding blizzard.
The trio usually started out shortly after daybreak. If they sighted prey early, they were often home before noon. Their usual method was to follow a likely candidate until they were in a good position. Then Ayla would signal with her sling and Baby, eager and ready, would spring forward. Whinney, feeling Ayla’s urge, galloped after him. With the young cave lion clinging to the back of a panicked animal—his claws and fangs drawing blood, if not actually fatal—it seldom took long for the galloping horse to close the distance. As they came abreast, Ayla plunged the spear.
In the beginning, they weren’t always successful. Sometimes the chosen animal was too fast, or Baby would fall off, unable to get a secure hold. For Ayla, learning to wield the heavy spear at full gallop took some practice, too. Many times she missed, or made only a glancing blow, and sometimes Whinney didn’t get close enough. Even when they missed, it was exciting sport, and they could always try again.
With practice, they all improved. As they began understanding each other’s needs and abilities, the unlikely trio became an efficient hunting team—so efficient that when Baby made his first unassisted kill, it went almost unnoticed as part of the team’s efforts.
Bearing down at a hard gallop, Ayla saw the deer falter. It was down before she reached them. Whinney slowed down as they passed by. The woman jumped off and was running back before the