Jondalar spied a grassy hill on their right, and he thought the elevation might give him a broader view. They rode to the top of the rise and looked down at the sparkling water of an oxbow lake. It lacked the lush growth of the delta – and the stagnant pools that fostered the emerging imagoes – but a few trees and some brush lined the edges, bracketing a wide, inviting beach.
Wolf started down at a run, and the horses followed with no urging. It was all the woman and man could do to stop them long enough to lift off the pack baskets and unhitch Whinney's travois. They all splashed into the clear water in a rush that was slowed only by the resistance of the water. Even nervous Wolf, who disliked crossing rivers, showed no hesitation as he paddled around in the lake.
"Do you think he's finally starting to like water?" Ayla asked.
"I hope so. We have many more rivers to cross."
The horses dipped their heads to drink, snorted and blew water out of their noses and mouths, and then went back to the shallows. They dropped down on the muddy bank to roll and scratch themselves, and Ayla couldn't help laughing out loud at their grimacing faces and their eyes rolling and flashing in sheer delight. When they got up they were coated with mud, but when it dried, sweat, dead skin, insect eggs, and other causes of itching fell away with the dust.
They camped on the edge of the lake and started out early the next day. By evening they wished they could find another campsite as pleasant. A wave of mosquitoes followed the hatching of the gnats, raising red itching bumps that forced Ayla and Jondalar to don protective, and heavier, clothing, though it felt uncomfortably warm after being accustomed to the bare minimum. Neither of them was quite sure when the flies appeared. There had always been a few horseflies around, but now it was the smaller biting flies that suddenly increased. Even though it was a warm evening, they crawled into their sleeping furs early, just to escape the flying hordes.
They did not break camp until late morning the next day, not until after Ayla had searched for herbs that could be used to soothe their bites and to make insect repellents. She found brownwort, with its loose spike of strangely shaped brown flowers, in a damp and shady place near the water, and she collected the whole plants to make into a wash, for their skin-healing and itch-relieving properties. When she saw the large leaves of plantain she picked them to add to the solution; they were excellent for healing anything from bites to boils, even severe ulcers and wounds. From farther out on the steppes where it was dryer, she gathered wormwood flowers to add as a general antidote for poisons and toxic reactions.
She was quite pleased to find bright yellow marigolds for their antiseptic and quick-healing virtues, to take the sting out of bites, and because they were so effective in keeping insects away when a strong solution was splashed on. And growing at the sunny edge of the woods, she found wild marjoram, which was not only a good insect repellent when made into an infusion for an external wash, but drinking it as a tea gave a person's sweat a spicy odor that gnats, fleas, and most flies found distasteful. She even tried to get the horses and Wolf to drink some, though she wasn't sure how successful she was.
Jondalar watched her preparations, asking her questions and listening to her explanations with interest. When his irritating bites were relieved and he was feeling better, it occurred to him how lucky he was to be traveling with someone who could do something about insects. He would have just had to put up with them if he were alone.
By midmorning they were on their way again, and the changes Ayla had noticed before increased dramatically. They were seeing less marsh and more water, with fewer islands. The northern arm of the delta was losing its network of meandering waterways and all becoming one. Then, with little warning, the northern and one of the middle arms of the great river delta came together, doubling the size of the channel, and creating an enormous body of running water. A short distance beyond, the river increased again as the southern arm, which had joined with the other main channel, combined with the rest, bringing together all four arms to form a single deep channel.
The great waterway had received hundreds of tributaries and the runoff of two ice-mantled ranges as she swept across the breadth of a continent, but the granite stumps of ancient mountains had blocked her seaward passage farther south. Finally, unable to resist the inexorable pressures of the advancing river, they were finally broached, but the obdurate bedrock yielded reluctantly. The Great Mother, hemmed in by the narrow passage, gathered up her flowing outskirts for one brief length before making a sharp turn and debouching through the massive delta into the expectant sea.
It was the first time that Ayla had seen the full magnitude of the enormous river, and though he had been that way before, Jondalar had seen it from a different perspective. They were stunned, held by the sight. The awesome expanse seemed more like a flowing sea than a river, the shimmering, roiling surface betraying but a hint of the great power hidden within its depths.
Ayla noticed a broken branch moving toward them, hardly more than a stick carried along by the deep, swift current, but something about it caught her attention. It took longer than she expected to reach them, and as it drew near, she caught her breath in surprise. It was not a branch at all; it was a complete tree! As it floated serenely by, Ayla stared in wonder at one of the largest trees she had ever seen.
"This is the Great Mother River," Jondalar said.
He had traveled her entire length once before, and he knew the distance she had traveled, the terrain she had crossed, and the Journey still ahead of them. Though Ayla didn't entirely comprehend all the implications, she did understand that, gathered together in one place for the last time, at the end of her long Journey, the vast, deep, powerful Mother River had reached her culmination; this was as Great as she would ever be.
They continued upstream beside the brimming waterway, leaving the steamy river mouth behind, and with it many of the insects that plagued them, and they discovered that they were leaving the open steppes as well. The broad grasslands and flat marshes gave way to undulating hills covered with extensive woodlands interspersed with green meadows.
It was cooler in the shade of the open woods. This was such a welcome change that when they came upon a large lake surrounded by trees near a beautiful green meadow, they were tempted to stop and make camp though it was only the middle of the afternoon. They rode alongside a creek toward a sandy shore, but as they neared, Wolf began a low growl deep in his throat and, with hackles raised, assumed a defensive posture. Both Ayla and Jondalar scanned the area, trying to see what was disturbing the animal.
"I don't see anything wrong," Ayla said, "but there is something here that Wolf doesn't like."
Jondalar looked at the inviting lake once more. "It's early to make camp, anyway. Let's just go on," he said, turning Racer aside and heading back toward the river. Wolf stayed behind a while longer, then caught up with them.
As they rode through the pleasant wooded regions, Jondalar was just as happy that they decided not to stop early at the lake. During the afternoon, they passed several more lakes of various sizes; the area was full of them. He thought he should have known that from his previous passage down the river, until he remembered that he and Thonolan had come downstream in a Ramudoi boat, only stopping at the edge of the river occasionally.
But more than that, he felt that there ought to be people living in such an ideal location, and he tried to remember if any of the Ramudoi had talked about other River People living downstream. He didn't bring up any of his thoughts to Ayla, though. If they weren't making themselves known, they didn't want to be seen. He couldn't help but wonder, however, what had caused Wolf to react so defensively. Could it have been the scent of human fear? Hostility?