The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [298]
“I wasn’t sure at first, but with you, Jondalar, everything is right. Everything is Pleasure,” she said, snuggling back into him closer.
“Jondalar, what are you looking for?” Ayla called down from the ledge.
“I was trying to see if I could find any more firestones.”
“I have hardly marked the first one I started using. It will last a long time—we don’t need any more.”
“I know, but I saw one, and thought I’d see how many more I could find. Are we ready?”
“I can’t think of anything else we need. We can’t stay too long—the weather changes so fast this time of year. It can be hot in the morning and a blizzard by evening,” she said, coming down the path.
Jondalar put the new stones in his pouch, looked around once more, then looked up at the woman. Then he looked at the woman again.
“Ayla! What are you wearing?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“I like it! Where did you get it?”
“I made it, when I was making yours. I copied yours to fit me, but I wasn’t sure if I should wear it. I thought it might be something only a man should wear. And I didn’t know how to bead a shirt. Is it all right?”
“I think so. I don’t recall that the woman’s outfit was much different. The shirt was a little longer, maybe, and the decorations might be different. This is Mamutoi clothing. I lost mine when we reached the end of the Great Mother River. It looks wonderful on you, Ayla, and I think you’ll like it better. When it gets cold, you’ll notice how warm it is, and comfortable.”
“I’m glad you like it. I wanted to dress … your way.”
“My way … I wonder if I know what my way is any more. Look at us! A man and a woman and two horses! One of them loaded with our tent and food and extra clothing. It feels strange to be starting on a Journey so unencumbered, to be carrying nothing except spears—and a spear thrower! And my pouch full of firestones. I think we’d be quite a surprise if anyone were to see us. But I’m more surprised at myself. I am not the same man I was when you found me. You have changed me, woman, and I love you for it.”
“I, too, am changed, Jondalar. I love you.”
“Well, which way do we go?”
Ayla felt a disquieting sense of loss as they walked the length of the valley, followed by the mare and her colt. When she reached the turn at the far end, she looked back.
“Jondalar! Look! Horses have come back to the valley. I haven’t seen horses here since I first came. They left when I chased them and caught Whinney’s dam. I am glad to see them back. I always did think this was their valley.”
“Is it the same herd?”
“I don’t know. The stallion was yellow, like Whinney. I don’t see the stallion, only the lead mare. It’s been a long time.”
Whinney had seen the horses, too, and she gave a loud neigh. The greeting was returned, and Racer’s ears turned toward them with interest. Then the mare followed the woman, and her colt trotted behind.
Ayla followed the river south and crossed when she saw the steep slope on the other side. She stopped at the top, and both she and Jondalar mounted Whinney. The woman found her landmarks and headed southwest. The terrain became rougher, more broken and folded, with rocky canyons and steep slopes leading to flat rises. When they neared an opening between jagged rock walls, Ayla dismounted and examined the ground. It held no fresh spoor. She led the way into a blind canyon, then climbed up on a rock that had split from the wall. As she walked to a rockslide at the back, Jondalar followed her.
“This is the place, Jondalar,” she said, and, withdrawing a pouch from her tunic, she gave it to him.
He knew the place. “What is this?” he asked, holding up the small leather bag.
“Red earth, Jondalar. For his grave.”
He nodded, unable to speak. He felt the pressure of tears and made no effort to check them. He poured the red ochre into his hand and broadcast it on the rocks and gravel, then spread a second handful. Ayla waited while he stared at the rocky slope with wet eyes, and, when he turned to go, she made a gesture over Thonolan