The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [163]
The heat finally penetrated deep enough for him to stand up and turn his back to the fire. He saw the young male watching him. He wasn’t sure how he knew the young one was a male. With the skin wrapped around him and tied with a long thong, it wasn’t obvious. Though wary, his direct look was not fearful like the female’s had been. Jondalar remembered then that the Losadunai had said flathead females wouldn’t fight. They just gave in, no sport at all. Why would anyone want a flathead female?
As he continued to look at the male flathead, Jondalar decided he wasn’t so young, more adolescent than child. The short stature had been deceiving, but his muscle development showed strength, and, looking closer, he saw the downy fuzz of a beginning beard.
The young male grunted and the female quickly scurried to a small woodpile and brought a few pieces to the fire. Jondalar had not seen a flathead female this close before. He turned his head toward her. She was older, perhaps the young one’s dam, he thought. She seemed uncomfortable, didn’t want to be looked at. She backed away with her head lowered and, when she reached the edge of the small clearing, she kept moving away from his sight. She didn’t make it obvious, but before he realized it, his head was twisted around nearly backward. He looked away for an instant, and when he looked back, she had hidden herself so effectively that he couldn’t see her at first. If he hadn’t known she was there, he wouldn’t have seen her at all.
She’s frightened. I’m surprised she didn’t run away instead of bringing wood as he told her.
Told her! How could he tell her? Flatheads don’t talk—he couldn’t tell her to bring wood. The chill must have made me light-headed. I can’t be thinking clearly.
For all his denials, Jondalar couldn’t get over the feeling that the young male had indeed told the female to bring wood. Some way, he had communicated. He turned his attention back to the male and received a distinct impression of hostility. He didn’t know what was different, but he knew the young one had not liked his observation of the female. He was convinced he would be in deep trouble if he made one move toward her. It was not wise to pay too much attention to flathead females, he decided, not when there was a male around, of any age.
The tension slacked off when Jondalar made no overt moves and ceased looking at the female. But standing face to face with the flathead, he felt they were each taking the other’s measure, and more disturbing, that he was standing man to man. Yet, this man looked like none other he knew. In all his travels, the people he had met were recognizably human. They spoke different languages, had different customs, lived in different shelters—but they were human.
This one was different, but was he an animal? He was much shorter, and stockier, but those bare feet were no different from Jondalar’s. He was slightly bowlegged, but he walked as straight and tall as any man. He had a little more hair than average, especially around the arms and shoulders, Jondalar thought, but he wouldn’t call it a pelt. He knew some men who were as hairy. The flathead was barrel-chested, already brawny, not someone to tangle with, as young as he was. But even the full-grown males he’d seen, for all their tremendous musculature, were still built like men. The face, the head, there was the difference. But how different? His brows are heavy, his forehead doesn’t come up as high, slopes back more, but his head is big. Short neck, no chin, just a jaw that juts out some, and a large high-bridged nose. It’s a human face, not like anyone I know, but it looks human. And they use fire.
But they don’t talk, and all humans talk. I wonder … were they communicating? Great Doni! He even communicated with me! How did he know I needed fire? And why would a flathead help a man? Jondalar was baffled, but the young flathead had probably saved his life.
The young male seemed to come to some decision. He abruptly made the same motion with which he had beckoned Jondalar to the fire, then walked out of