The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [242]
She set the eggs down near the stream beside the birds, then picked long reeds growing near the water’s edge. The loosely woven basket she made took only a few moments; it would be used only to transport the eggs and then be thrown away. She used more reeds to fasten together the feathered feet of the brace of ptarmigan. The dense winter snowshoe feathers were already growing in.
Winter. Ayla shivered. She didn’t want to think about winter, cold and bleak. But winter was never entirely out of mind. Summer was only the time to get ready for winter.
Jondalar was going to leave! She knew it. It was silly to think he would stay with her in the valley. Why should he? Would she stay if she had people? It was going to be worse after he left … even if he did look at her like that.
“Why did he have to come?”
She startled herself with her voice. She wasn’t used to hearing herself talk when she was alone. “But I can talk. That much Jondalar did. At least, if I see people, I can talk to them now. And I know people live to the west. Iza was right, there must be many people, many Others.”
She draped the ptarmigan over the mare’s back, one dangling on either side, and held the basket of eggs between her legs. I was born to the Others … Find a mate, Iza told me. I thought Jondalar was sent for me by my totem, but would one my totem sent look at me like that?
“How could he look at me like that?” she cried with a convulsive sob. “O Cave Lion, I don’t want to be alone anymore.” Ayla slumped down, giving in to tears again. Whinney noticed the lack of direction, but it didn’t matter. She knew the way. After a while Ayla sat up. No one is making me stay here. I should have been looking before this. I can talk now …
“ … and I can tell them Whinney is not a horse to hunt,” she continued out loud after reminding herself. “I’ll get everything ready, and next spring I will leave.” She knew she would not put it off again.
Jondalar won’t leave right away. He will need clothes and weapons. Maybe my Cave Lion sent him here to teach me. Then I must learn all I can before he goes. I will watch him, and ask him questions, no matter how he looks at me. Broud hated me all the years I lived with the Clan. I can stand it if Jondalar … if he … hates me. She closed her eyes to squeeze back tears.
She reached for her amulet, remembering what Creb had told her long ago: When you find a sign your totem has left for you, put it in your amulet. It will bring you luck. Ayla had put them all in her amulet. Cave Lion, I’ve been alone so long, put luck in my amulet.
The sun had fallen behind the upstream gorge wall by the time she rode down toward the stream. Darkness always followed quickly. Jondalar saw her coming and ran down to the beach. Ayla had urged Whinney to a gallop, and, as she rounded the jutting wall, she almost collided with him. The horse shied, nearly unseating the woman. Jondalar reached up a steadying hand, but when he felt bare flesh, he jerked his hand away, sure she must despise him.
He hates me, Ayla thought. He can’t stand to touch me! She swallowed a sob and signaled Whinney forward. The horse crossed the rocky beach and clattered up the path with Ayla on her back. She dismounted at the cave entrance and dashed in, wishing she had some other place to go. She wanted to hide. She dropped the egg basket beside the hearth, scooped up an armful of furs, and carried them to the storage area. She dumped them on the ground on the other side of the drying rack, amidst unused baskets, mats, and bowls, then jumped into them and pulled them over her head.
Ayla heard Whinney’s hooves a moment later, and then the colt. She was shaking, fighting back tears, acutely conscious of the movements of the man in the cave. She wished he would leave so at least she could cry.
She didn’t hear his bare feet on the dirt floor as he approached, but she knew he was there and tried to stop her shaking.
“Ayla?” he said. She didn’t answer. “Ayla, I brought you some tea.” She held herself stiff. “Ayla, you don’t have to stay back here. I’ll move.