"Ayla! Do you realize what this means?" Jondalar was nearly shouting with excitement.
"I'm not sure," she said.
"See, the point found its mark, then separated from the shaft without breaking. That means, all I have to make next time is a new point and attach it to a short piece like this. I don't have to make a whole new long shaft. I can make two points like this, several, in fact, and will only need a few long shafts. We can carry a lot more short shafts with points than long full spears, and if we lose one, it won't be so hard to replace. Here, you try it," he said, working loose the broken point from the target.
Ayla looked over. "I'm not very good at making a long spear shaft straight, and my points are not as beautiful as yours," she said. "But even I could make one of these, I think." She was as excited as Jondalar.
On the day before they planned to leave, they checked over their repairs of the damage caused by the badger, placed the skin of the animal in a way that they hoped would make it obvious that it was the cause of the mess, and put out their gifts. The basket of dried meat was hung from a mammoth bone rafter to make it difficult for any other prowling animal to find. Ayla displayed other baskets, and hung several bunches of dried medicinal herbs and food plants as well, particularly those that were commonly used by the Mamutoi. Jondalar left the owner of the lodge an especially well made spear.
They also mounted the partly dried skull of the aurochs cow, with its huge horns, on a pole outside the lodge, so that scavengers could not get to it, either. The horns and other bony parts of the skull were useful, and it was a way of explaining what kind of meat was in the basket.
The young wolf and the horses seemed to sense an impending change. Wolf bounded around them full of excitement and energy, and the horses were restless, with Racer living up to his name, breaking into short, fast-breaking dashes, and Whinney staying closer to the Camp, watching for Ayla and nickering when she saw her.
Before they went to bed, they packed everything except their sleeping rolls and breakfast essentials, including the dry tent, though it was harder to fold and fit into the pack basket. The hides had been smoked before the skins were made into a tent, so that even after a thorough soaking, they would remain reasonably pliable, but the portable shelter was still somewhat stiff. It would become more flexible again with use.
On their last night in the comfort of the lodge, Ayla watched the flickering light of the dying fire playing across the walls of the substantial shelter, feeling her emotions flicker across her mind with a similar play of brightness and shadow. She was eager to be on their way again, but sorry to be leaving a place that, in the short time they had been there, had come to feel like home – except there were no people. In the past few days, she had caught herself looking up at the crest of the slope hoping to see the people who lived at the Camp returning before they had to leave.
Though she still wished they would arrive unexpectedly, she had given up hoping, and she was looking forward to reaching the Great Mother River and perhaps meeting someone along its route. She loved Jondalar, but she was lonely for people, for women and children, and elders, for laughing and talking, and sharing with others of her kind. But she didn't want to think much beyond the next day, or the next Camp of people. She didn't want to think about Jondalar's people, or how long they still had to travel before they reached his home, and she didn't want to think about how they were going to cross that large, fast river with only a small round boat.
Jondalar lay awake as well, worried about their Journey and eager to be moving again, though he did think their stay had been very worthwhile. Their tent was dry, they had replenished their meat and replaced necessary equipment that had been lost or damaged, and he was excited about the development of the two-part spear. He was glad he had the bowl boat, but even with it, he was worried about crossing the river. It was a large waterway, wide and swift. They were probably not very far from the sea, and it was not likely to get smaller. Anything could happen. He would be glad when they reached the other side.
10
Ayla woke often during the night, and her eyes were open as the first morning glow crept in through the smoke hole and sent its faint illuminating fingers into the tenebrious crannies to disperse the dark and bring the hidden shapes out of the concealing shadows. By the time the obscuring night had retreated to a dim half-light, she was wide awake and could not go back to sleep.
Moving quietly away from Jondalar's warmth, she slipped outside. The night chill enveloped her bare skin and, with its cooling hint of the massive layers of ice to the north, clothed her with gooseflesh. Looking out across the misty river valley, she saw the vague formations of the still unlighted land on the opposite side, silhouetted against the glowing sky. She wished they were already over there.
Rough warm fur brushed against her leg. Absently she patted the head and scratched the ruff of the wolf who had appeared beside her. He sniffed the air and, finding something interesting, raced off down the slope. She looked for the horses and made out the yellowish coat of the mare grazing in one of the grassy leas near the water. The dark brown horse was not visible, but she was sure he was nearby.
Shivering, she walked through the damp grass toward the small creek and sensed the rising of the sun in the east. She watched the western sky shade from glowing gray to pastel blue, with a scattering of pink clouds, reflecting the glory of the morning sun hidden behind the crest of the slope.
Ayla was tempted to walk up and see the rising sun, but she was stopped by a glint of dazzling brilliance from the other direction. Though the gully-scarred slopes across the river were still wrapped in a somber gray gloom, the mountains to the west, bathed in the clear light of the new day's sun, stood out in vivid relief, etched with such perfect detail that it seemed she could reach out and touch them. Crowning the low southern range, a glittering tiara sparkled from the icy tips. She watched the slowly changing patterns with wonder, held by the magnificence of the back side of the sunrise.
By the time she reached the little stream of clear water that was racing and skipping down the slope, the morning chill had burned off. She put down the waterbag she had taken from the lodge and, checking her wool, was glad to see that her moon time seemed to be over. She unfastened her straps, took off her amulet, and stepped into a shallow pool to wash. When she was through, she filled the waterbag at the splashing cascade that ran into the slight depression of the pool, then got out and pushed the water off with one hand and then the other. Putting her amulet back on and picking up the washed wool and her straps, she hurried back.
Jondalar was knotting a tie around their rolled-up sleeping furs when she stepped down into the semisubterranean earthlodge. He looked up and smiled. Noticing that she wasn't wearing her leather straps, his smile took on a decidedly suggestive look.
"Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to roll up the furs this morning," he said.
She flushed when she realized he was aware that she was past her moon time. Then she looked directly into his eyes, which were full of teasing laughter, love, and burgeoning desire, and smiled back. "You can always unroll them again."
"There go my plans for an early start," he said, pulling an end of the thong that released the knot on the sleeping roll. He unrolled it and stood up as she walked to him.
After their morning meal, it took little time for them to finish packing. Gathering all their possessions and the boat, along with their animal traveling companions, they moved down to the river. But deciding the best way to get across was another matter. They stared at the expanse of water rushing past, so wide that details of the bank on the other side were difficult to see. With its fast current sliding over and around itself in subdued ripples and eddies, making small choppy waves, the sound of the deep river was almost more revealing than its look. It spoke its power in a muted, gurgling roar.