The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [174]
The cave lion relaxed a bit and came toward her again, butting her with his head. She scratched his forehead and gave him a last quick hug. Whinney was very nervous, she noticed. Baby’s scent might have been familiar, but not that of the strange lioness. Ayla mounted and, when Baby approached them again, she signaled “Stop.” He stayed for a moment and then, with a hnga, hnga, turned away. Followed by his mate, Baby left.
He’s gone now, living with his own kind, she thought on the way back. He might come for a visit, but he’ll never come back to me like Whinney did. The woman reached down and patted the mare affectionately. I’m so glad you’re back, she thought.
Seeing Baby with his lioness reminded the young woman of her own uncertain future. Baby has a mate now. You had one, too, Whinney. I wonder, will I ever have one?
17
Jondalar stepped out from under the sandstone overhang and looked down the snow-covered terrace that ended abruptly with a sheer drop. The high side walls framed the white rounded contours of the eroded hills on the other side of the river. Darvo, who had been waiting for him, waved. He was standing beside a stump next to the wall some distance down the length of the field, in the place Jondalar had chosen to work his flint. It was out in the open where the light was good, and out of the way so there would be less chance of someone stepping on a sharp chip. He started toward the boy.
“Jondalar, wait a moment.”
“Thonolan,” he said, smiling, and waited for his brother to catch up. They strolled together across the packed snow. “I promised Darvo I’d show him some special techniques this morning. How’s Shamio?”
“She’s fine; getting over her cold. She had us worried—her coughing was even keeping Jetamio awake. We’re talking about making more room before next winter.”
Jondalar gave Thonolan an appraising look, wondering if the responsibilities of a mate and extended family were weighing heavily on his carefree younger brother. But Thonolan had a settled, contented look about him. Suddenly, he flashed a self-satisfied grin.
“Big Brother, I have something to tell you. Had you noticed that Jetamio was putting a bit of flesh on her bones? I thought she was just getting a healthy settled look. I was wrong. She’s been blessed again.”
“That’s wonderful! I know how much she wants a baby.”
“She’s known for a long time, but she didn’t want to tell me. Afraid I’d worry. She seems to be holding it this time, Jondalar. Shamud says not to count on anything, but if everything continues to go well, shell give birth in spring. She says she’s sure it is a child of my spirit.”
“She must be right. Just think, my foot-loose little brother—a man of his own hearth, with his mate expecting a child.”
Thonolan’s grin broadened. His happiness was so transparent that Jondalar had to smile, too. He looks so pleased with himself, you’d think he was having a baby, Jondalar thought.
“There, to the left,” Dolando said softly, pointing to a rocky prominence jutting out from the flank of the rugged crest rising up before them and filling the entire view.
Jondalar looked, but he was too overwhelmed to focus his vision on anything less than the full expanse. They were at timberline. Behind was the forest through which they had ascended. It had begun with oak at the lower elevations; then beech predominated. Farther up were the conifers that were more familiar to him, mountain pine, fir, and spruce. He had seen, from a distance, the hardened crust of the earth upthrust in far grander peaks, but, as they left the trees behind, his breath caught at the unexpected grandeur. As many times as he had seen the view, it still affected him the same way.
The closeness of the mounting height stunned him; the sense of immediacy, as though he could reach out and touch it. In silent awe it spoke of elemental upheavals, of gravid earth straining to birth naked rock. Unclothed by forest, the primordial bone of the Great Mother lay exposed in the tilted landscape. Beyond it the sky was unearthly blue