Ayla and Jondalar emerged at a different section of the river when they reached water again, near a clump of goat willow bushes that was the site of a mixed colony of marsh birds: night herons, little egrets, purple herons, cormorants, and at this place, mostly glossy ibises all nesting together. In the same tree, the grassy roosting place of one variety was often only a branch away from the nest of an entirely different species, and several held eggs or young birds. The birds seemed to be as indifferent to the people and animals as they were to each other, but the busy place, bustling with incessant activity, was an attraction impossible for the curious young wolf to ignore.
He approached slowly, trying to stalk, but was distracted by the plethora of possibilities. Finally he made a dash toward a particular small tree. With loud squawking and flapping of wings, the nearby birds lifted into the air and were immediately followed by more who noticed the warning. Still others took to wing. The air was filling with marsh birds, clearly the dominant bird life in the delta, until more than ten thousand individuals of several different species from the mixed colony were wheeling and turning in dramatic flight.
Wolf raced back toward the woods, his tail between his legs, howling and yipping in fear over the commotion he had caused. Adding to the tumult, the nervous, frightened horses were rearing and screaming; then they galloped into the water.
The travois acted as a restraining force on the mare, who was more even tempered to begin with. She settled down fairly soon, but Jondalar had a great deal more trouble with the young stallion. He ran into the water after the horse, swimming where it deepened, and was soon out of sight. Ayla managed to get Whinney across the channel and back to the mainland. After she calmed and comforted the horse, she unhitched the dragging poles and removed the harness to let the mare run free and relax in her own way. Then she whistled for Wolf. It took several more whistles before he came, and then it was from a different direction much farther downstream, far away from the site of the nesting birds.
Ayla took off her own wet clothes and changed into dry ones from her pack basket, then gathered wood to make a fire while she waited for Jondalar. He, too, would need to change, and fortunately his pack baskets happened to be in the bowl boat, which kept them dry. It was some time before he found his way back, riding toward Ayla's fire from the west. Racer had gone far upstream before Jondalar caught up with him.
The man was still angry with Wolf, and it was apparent not only to Ayla but to the animal. The wolf waited until Jondalar finally sat down with a cup of hot tea after changing clothes, and then he approached, crouching down on his front legs, wagging his tail like a puppy wanting to play and whining with a pleading tone. When he got close enough, Wolf tried to lick his face. The man pushed him away at first. When he did allow the persistent animal closer, Wolf seemed so pleased that Jondalar had to relent.
"It seems as though he's trying to say he's sorry, but that's hard to believe. How could he? He's an animal. Ayla, could Wolf know that he misbehaved and be sorry for it?" Jondalar asked.
Ayla wasn't surprised. She had seen such actions when she was teaching herself to hunt and observing carnivorous animals, which she had chosen to be her prey. Wolf's actions toward the man were similar to the way a young wolf often behaved toward the male leader of a pack.
"I don't know what he knows, or what he thinks," Ayla said. "I can only judge from his actions. But isn't that how it is with people? You can never know what someone really knows or thinks. You have to judge by actions, don't you?"
Jondalar nodded, still not sure what to believe. Ayla didn't doubt that Wolf was sorry, but she didn't think it would make much difference. Wolf used to behave the same way to her when she was trying to teach him to stay away from the leather footwear of the people of Lion Camp. It took her a long time to train the wolf to leave them alone, and she didn't think he was ready to give up chasing birds just yet.
The sun was skimming the craggy high peaks at the southern end of the long chain of mountains to the west, lending a glittering sparkle to the icy facets. The range dropped from the heights of the southern tors as it marched north, and the sharp angles smoothed out to rounded crests blanketed with shimmering white. Toward the northwest, the mountaintops disappeared behind a curtain of clouds.
Ayla turned into an inviting opening in the wooded fringe of the river delta and pulled to a stop. Jondalar followed behind. The small grassy lea was a somewhat larger space within a pleasant open strip of woodland that led directly to a quiet lagoon.
Though the main arms of the great river were full of muddy silt, the complex network of channels and side streams that weaved through the reeds of the huge delta was clean and drinkable. The channels occasionally widened into large lakes or placid lagoons that were surrounded by an assortment of reeds, rushes, sedges, and other water plants, and were often covered with water lilies. The sturdy lily pads offered resting places for the smaller herons and innumerable frogs.
"This looks like a good place," Jondalar said, lifting his leg over Racer's back and landing lightly. He removed his pack baskets, riding blanket, and halter, and turned the young stallion loose. The horse headed straight for the water, and a moment later Whinney joined him.
The mare entered the river first and began drinking. After a short time she started pawing the water, making big splashes that soaked her chest and the young stallion who was drinking nearby. She bent her head down, sniffing at the water, her ears forward. Then, gathering her legs beneath her, she got down on her forelegs, dropped lower, and rolled over on her side, and finally onto her back. Holding her head up and with legs flailing the air, she squirmed with delight, rubbing her body on the bottom of the lagoon, then flung herself over to her other side. Racer, who had been watching his dam rolling in the cool water, could wait no longer, and in a similar manner lowered himself for a roll in the shallows near the bank.
"You would have thought they'd had enough of water today," Ayla said, moving up beside Jondalar.
He turned, the smile from watching the horses still on his face. "They do love to roll in the water, not to mention the mud or dust. I didn't know horses liked to roll so much."
"You know how much they like to be scratched. I think it's their way of scratching themselves," the woman commented. "Sometimes they scratch each other, and they tell each other where they want to be scratched."
"How can they tell each other that, Ayla? Sometimes I think you imagine that horses are people."
"No, horses are not people. They are themselves, but watch them some time, when they stand head to tail. One will scratch the other with teeth, and then wait to be scratched back at the same place," Ayla said. "Maybe I'll give Whinney a good combing with the dry teasel later. It must get hot and itchy under the leather straps all day. Sometimes I think we should leave the bowl boat behind… but it has been useful."
"I'm hot and itchy. I think I'm going to take a swim, too. This time without clothes," Jondalar said.
"I will, too, but first I want to unpack. Those clothes that got wet are still damp. I want to hang them over those bushes so they will dry." She took a damp bundle out of one of her baskets and began draping the clothing across the branches of an alder bush. "I'm not sorry the clothes got wet," Ayla said, arranging a loincloth. "I found some soaproot and washed mine while I was waiting for you."