The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [157]
That was when I left—she swallowed hard and blinked her eyes—and that summer I found the valley, and Whinney. The next spring, I found Baby. She made a fourth mark. And this spring … She didn’t want to think about losing Whinney as a way to remember the year, but it was a fact. She made a fifth mark.
That’s all the fingers of one hand—she held up her left hand—and that’s how many Durc is now. She put out the thumb and forefinger of the right hand—And this many before the next Gathering. When they get back, Ura will be with them, for Durc. Of course, they won’t be old enough to mate yet. They’ll know by looking at her that she is for Durc. I wonder, does he remember me? Will he have Clan memories? How much of him is me, and how much Broud … Clan?
Ayla gathered up her marked sticks and noticed a regularity in the number of marks between the extra notches that she made when her spirit battled and she bled. What man’s totem spirit could be battling with mine here? Even if my totem were a mouse, I’d never get pregnant. It takes a man, and his organ, to start a baby. That’s what I think.
Whinney! Is that what that stallion was doing? Was he getting a baby started in you? Maybe I’ll see you sometime with that herd, and find out. Oh, Whinney, that would be wonderful.
Thoughts of Whinney and the stallion made her quiver. Her breath came a little faster. Then she thought of Broud, and the pleasant sensations stopped. But it was his organ that started Durc. If he’d known it would give me a baby, he would never have done it. And Durc will have Ura. She’s not deformed either. I think Ura was started when that man of the Others forced Oda. Ura is just right for Durc. She’s part Clan, and part that man of the Others. A man of the Others …
Ayla was restless. Baby was gone, and she felt the need to be moving. She went out and strolled just outside the line of brush that hugged the stream. She walked farther than she had before, though she had ridden as far on Whinney’s back. She was going to have to get used to walking again, she realized, and to carrying a basket on her back. At the far end of the valley she followed the stream around the edge of the high scarp as it swung south. Just beyond the turn, the stream swirled around rocks that could have been placed on purpose, they were so neatly spaced for stepping stones. The high wall was only a steep grade at this place. She scrambled up and looked out across the western steppes.
There was no real difference between west and east, except for a slightly rougher terrain, and she was far less familiar with the west. She always knew that when she decided to leave the valley she would go west. She turned around, crossed the stream, then hiked the long valley back to the cave.
It was nearly dark when she arrived, and Baby had not returned yet. The fire was out, and the cave was cold and lonely. It seemed emptier now than it had when she first made it her home. She lit a fire, boiled some water and made tea, but didn’t feel like cooking. She took a piece of dried meat and some raisined cherries and sat on her bed. It had been a long time since she was alone in her cave. She went to the place where her old carrying basket stood and rummaged around in the bottom until she found Durc’s carrying cloak. Bunching it up, she crammed it to her stomach and watched the fire. When she lay down, she wrapped it around her.
Her sleep was disturbed by dreams. She dreamed of Durc and Ura, grown up and mated. She dreamed of Whinney, in a different place with a bay colt. She woke once in a sweat of fright. Not until she was fully awake did she understand that