The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [293]
Why should Doni show him that all life came from Her? He knew it; it was an accepted fact of his existence. Why should She appear in his dream giving birth to all the fish and birds and animals and …
Flatheads! Of course! She was telling him the people of the Clan were Her Children too. Why had no one made that clear before? No one ever questioned that all life came from Her, why were those people so vilified? They were called animals as though animals were evil. What made flatheads evil?
Because they were not animals. They were human, a different kind of human! That’s what Ayla has been saying all along. Is that why one of them had Ayla’s face?
He could understand why her face would be on the donii he had made, the one who had stopped the lion in his dream—no one would believe what Ayla had actually done; it was more incredible than the dream. But why was her face on the ancient donii? Why should the Great Earth Mother Herself bear the likeness of Ayla?
He knew he would never understand all of his dream, but he felt he was still missing an important part. He went over it again, and when he recalled Ayla standing in the cave that was about to collapse, he almost shouted to her to get away.
He was staring at the horizon, his thoughts inward, feeling the same desolation and loneliness as in his dream when he had been standing alone, without her. Tears wet his face. Why did he feel such utter despair? What was he not seeing?
People in beaded shirts came to mind, leaving the cavern. Ayla had fixed the beaded shirt for him. She had made clothes for him, and she hadn’t even known how to sew before. Traveling clothes that he would wear when he left.
Left? Leave Ayla? The fiery light rose over the edge. He closed his eyes and saw a warm golden glow.
Great Mother! What a stupid fool you are, Jondalar. Leave Ayla? How can you possibly leave her? You love her! Why have you been so blind? Why should it take a dream from the Mother to tell you something so plain that a child could have seen it?
A sense of great weight lifting from his shoulders made him feel a joyous freedom, a sudden lightness. I love her! It has finally happened to me! I love her! I didn’t think it was possible, but I love Ayla!
He was filled with exuberance, ready to shout it to the world, ready to rush in and tell her. I have never told a woman that I love her, he thought. He hurried into the cave, but Ayla was still sleeping.
He went back out and brought in some wood, and using flint and a firestone—it still amazed him—quickly had a fire going. For once, he’d managed to wake up before her, and he wanted to surprise her with hot tea for a change. He found her mint leaves, and soon had the tea steeped and ready, but Ayla still slept.
He watched her, breathing, turning—he loved her hair long and free like that. He was tempted to wake her. No, she must be tired. It’s daylight and she’s not up.
He went down to the beach, found a twig to clean his teeth, then took a morning swim. It left him refreshed, full of energy, and famished. They had never gotten around to eating. He smiled to himself, remembering the reason; the thought caused a rising.
He laughed. You deprived him all summer, Jondalar. You can’t blame your woman-maker for being so eager, now that he knows what he’s missed. But don’t push her. She may need to rest—she’s not used to it. He raced up the path and entered the cave quietly. The horses were out to pasture. They must have gone while I was swimming, and she’s still not awake. Is she all right? Maybe I should wake her. She rolled over and exposed a breast, adding impulse to his earlier thoughts.
He contained his urge and went to the fireplace to pour himself more tea, and wait. He noticed a difference in her random motions, then saw her groping for something.
“Jondalar! Jondalar! Where are you?” she cried, bolting up.
“Here I am,” he said, rushing to her. She clung to him. “Oh, Jondalar. I thought you were gone.”
“I’m here, Ayla.