"It's a lot of work to dig them. There's not much to each one, but I didn't know they'd be so good. I only use the roots for medicine, as part of a tonic in the spring."
"We usually eat them in spring. It's one of the first fresh foods."
They heard a clatter of hooves on the stone ledge and turned as Whinney and Racer came in. After a while, Ayla got up and settled them in. It was a nightly ritual that consisted of greetings, shared affection, fresh hay, grain, water, and, particularly after a long ride, a rubdown with absorbent leather and a currying with a teasel. Ayla noticed the fresh hay, grain, and water had already been put out.
"You remembered the horses, too," she said when she sat down to finish her blueberries. Even if she hadn't been hungry she would have eaten them.
He smiled. "I didn't have much to do. Oh, I have something to show you." He got up and returned with the two spear throwers. "I hope you don't mind, it's for luck."
"Jondalar!" She was almost afraid to touch hers. "Did you make this?" Her voice was full of awe. She had been surprised when he drew the shape of an animal on the target, but this was so much more. "It's… like you took the totem, the spirit of the bison, and put him there."
The man was grinning. She made surprises so much fun. His spear thrower had a giant deer with huge palmate antlers, and she marveled at it as well. "It is supposed to capture the spirit of the animal, so it will be drawn to the weapon. I'm not really a very good carver, you should see the work of some, and that of the sculptors, and gravers, and the artists who paint the sacred walls."
"I'm sure you have put powerful magic in these. I did not see deer, but a herd of bison is southeast. I think they are beginning to move together. Will a bison be drawn to a weapon that has a deer on it? I can go out again tomorrow and look for deer."
"This will work for bison. Yours will be luckier, though. I'm glad I put a bison on yours."
Ayla didn't know what to say. He was a man, and had given her more hunting luck than himself, and he was glad.
"I was going to make a donii for luck, too, but I didn't have time to finish it."
"Jondalar, I am confused. What is 'donii'? Is it your Earth Mother?"
"The Great Earth Mother is Doni, but She takes other forms and they are all donii. A donii is usually Her spirit form, when She rides on the wind, or sends Herself into dreams – men often dream of Her as a beautiful woman. A donii is also the carved figure of a woman – usually a bountiful mother – because women are Her blessed. She made them in Her likeness, to create life as She created all life. She rests most easily in the likeness of a mother. A donii is usually sent to guide a man to Her spirit world – some say women don't need a guide, they know the way. And some women claim they can change themselves into a donii when they want – not always to a man's benefit. The Sharamudoi who live west of here say the Mother can take the form of a bird."
Ayla nodded. "In the Clan, only the Ancient Ones are female spirits."
"What about your totems?" he asked.
"The protective totem spirits are all male, for both men and women, but women's totems are usually the smaller animals. Ursus, the Great Cave Bear, is the great protector of all the Clan – everyone's totem. Ursus was Creb's personal totem. He was chosen, just as the Cave Lion chose me. You can see my mark." She showed him the four parallel scars on her left thigh, where she had been clawed by a cave lion when she was five.
"I had no idea fl… your Clan understood the spirit world at all, Ayla. It is still hard to believe – I do believe you – but it's hard for me to comprehend that the people you talk about are the same ones I've always thought of as flatheads."
Ayla put her head down, then looked up. Her eyes were serious, and concerned. "I think the Cave Lion has chosen you, Jondalar. I think he is your totem now. Creb told me a powerful totem is not easy to live with. He gave up an eye in his testing, but he gained great power. Next to Ursus, the Cave Lion is the most powerful totem, and it has not been easy. His tests have been difficult, but once I understood the reason, I have never been sorry. I think you should know, in case he is your totem now." She looked down, hoping she hadn't said too much.
"They meant very much to you, your Clan, didn't they?"
"I wanted to be a woman of the Clan, but I could not. I could not make myself be one. I am not like them. I am of the Others. Creb knew it, and Iza told me to leave and find my own kind. I didn't want to go, but I had to leave and I can never go back. I am cursed with death. I am dead."
Jondalar wasn't sure what she meant, but a chin raised his small hairs when she said it. She drew a deep breath before she continued.
"I did not remember the woman I was born to, or my life before the Clan. I tried, but I could not imagine a man of the Others, a man like me. Now, when I try to imagine others, I can only see you. You are the first of my own kind I have ever seen, Jondalar. No matter what happens, I will never forget you." Ayla stopped, feeling she had said too much. She got up. "If we are going hunting in the morning, I think we should get some sleep."
Jondalar knew she had been raised by flatheads and lived alone in the valley after she left them, but until she said it, he didn't fully understand that he was the first. It disturbed him to think he represented all his people, and he wasn't proud of the way he had done it. Yet, he knew how everyone felt about flatheads. If he had just told her, would it have made the same impression? Would she have really known what to expect?
He went to bed with unsettled, ambivalent feelings. He stared at the fire after he lay down, thinking. Suddenly he felt a distorting sensation, and something like vertigo without the dizziness. He saw a woman as though reflected in a pond into which a stone had dropped; a wavering image from which ripples spread out in larger and larger circles. He did not want the woman to forget him – to be remembered by her was significant.
He sensed a divergence, a path splitting, a choice, and he had no one to guide him. A current of warm air raised the hair on the back of his neck. He knew She was leaving him. He had never consciously felt Her presence, but he knew when She was gone, and the void She left behind ached. It was the beginning of an ending: the ending of the ice, the end of an age, the end of the time when Her nourishment provided. The Earth Mother was leaving Her children to find their own way, to carve out their own lives, to pay the consequences of their own actions – to come of age. Not in his lifetime, not in many lifetimes to come, but the first inexorable step had been taken. She had passed on Her parting Gift, Her Gift of Knowledge.
Jondalar felt an eerie keening wail, and he knew he heard the Mother cry.
Like a thong stretched taut and released, reality snapped back into place. But it had been stretched too far and could not fit back into its original dimension. He felt that something was out of place. He looked across the fire at Ayla and saw tears flowing down her face.
"What's wrong, Ayla?"
"I don't know."
"Are you sure she can take both of us?"
"No, I'm not sure," Ayla said, leading Whinney, loaded with her carrying baskets. Racer trailed behind, led by a rope that was tied to a sort of halter made of leather thongs. It gave him freedom to graze and to move his head, and it would not tighten up around his neck and choke him. The halter had bothered the colt at first, but he was getting used to it.
"If we can both ride, traveling will be faster. If she doesn't like it, she will let me know. Then we can ride her in turns, or both walk."
When they reached the large boulder in the meadow, Ayla climbed on the horse, moved up a bit, and held the mare steady while Jondalar mounted her. Whinney flicked her ears back. She felt the extra weight and wasn't accustomed to it, but she was a sturdy rugged horse and she started out at Ayla's urging. The woman kept her to a steady pace and was sensitive to the horse's change in gait that signaled it was time to stop and rest.