The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [95]
It was a mutual training period, each learning from the other, and in the process deepening their relationship. But without being aware of it, Ayla was taking control. The signals between woman and horse were so subtle, and the transition from passive acceptance to active direction so natural, that Ayla didn’t notice it at first, except at a subliminal level. The almost continuous riding became a concentrated and intense training course. As the relationship grew more sensitive, Whinney’s reactions came to be so finely tuned that Ayla had only to think of where she wanted to go and at what speed and, as though the animal were an extension of her own body, the horse responded. The young woman didn’t realize she had transmitted signals through nerves and muscles to the highly sensitive skin of her mount.
Ayla hadn’t planned to train Whinney. It was the result of the love and attention she lavished on the animal, and the innate differences between horse and human. Whinney was curious and intelligent, she could learn and had a long memory, but her brain was not as evolved and was organized differently. Horses were social animals, normally living in herds, and they needed the closeness and warmth of fellow creatures. The sense of touch was particularly developed and important in establishing close rapport. But the young mare’s instincts led her to follow directions, to go where she was led. When panicked, even leaders of herds fled with the rest.
The woman’s actions had purpose, were directed by a brain in which foresight and analysis were constantly interacting with knowledge and experience. Her vulnerable position kept her survival reflexes sharp and forced her to be constantly aware of her surroundings, which together had precipitated and accelerated the training process. The sight of a hare or giant hamster, even while she was riding for pleasure, tended to make Ayla reach for her sling and want to go after it. Whinney had quickly interpreted her desire, and her first step in that direction led ultimately to the young woman’s tight, though unconscious, control of the horse. It wasn’t until Ayla killed a giant hamster that she became aware of it.
It was still early in spring. They had flushed the animal inadvertently, but the moment Ayla saw it running, she leaned toward it—reaching for her sling as Whinney started racing after it. When they drew near, Ayla’s shift in position, that came with a thought to jump down, brought the horse to a halt in time for her to slide off and hurl a stone.
It’ll be nice to have fresh meat tonight, she was thinking as she walked back toward the waiting horse. I should do more hunting, but it’s been so much fun riding Whinney …
I was riding Whinney! She chased after that hamster. And she stopped when I wanted her to! Ayla’s thoughts raced back to the first day she had climbed on the horse’s back and wrapped her arms around the young mare’s neck. Whinney had reached down for a clump of tender new grass.
“Whinney!” Ayla cried. The horse lifted her head and perked up her ears expectantly. The young woman was stunned. She didn’t know how to explain it. The mere idea of riding on the horse had been overwhelming enough, but that the horse would go where Ayla wanted to go was harder to understand than the process had been for both of them to learn.
The horse came to her. “Oh, Whinney,” she said again, her voice cracking with a sob, though she wasn’t sure why, as she hugged the shaggy neck Whinney blew through her nostrils and arched her neck so her head was leaning over the woman’s shoulder.
When she