Ayla sat on Whinney's back staring ahead, feeling an unaccountable apprehension, a fear welling up inside that sent a chill up her spine. She closed her eyes and shook her head to dispel the sensation. After all, there was nothing to fear. Opening her eyes, she looked again at the large herd of horses in front of them. What was so fearsome about a herd of horses?
Most of the horses were looking in their direction, and Whinney's attention was just as intensely focused on the other members of her species as they were on her. Ayla signaled Wolf to stay, noticing that he was very curious and overly eager to investigate. Horses, after all, were often prey to wolves, and the wild ones wouldn't like it if he got too close.
As Ayla studied the herd more closely, not quite sure what they or Whinney would do, she realized that it was not one, but two different herds. Dominating the area were the mares with their young, and Ayla assumed that the one standing aggressively forward of the others was the lead mare. In the background was a smaller herd of bachelors. Suddenly she noticed one standing between them, and then she couldn't help staring. It was the most unusual horse she had ever seen.
Most horses were variations of Whinney's shade of dun yellow, some tending more to tans, some more pale. Racer's dark brown coloring was unusual, she had never seen another horse as dark, but the coloring of the herd stallion was just as strange in the other direction. She had never seen a horse as light. The mature, well-formed stallion approaching warily was pure white!
Before he noticed Whinney, the white had been keeping the other males at bay, making it clear that, if they didn't come too close, they might be tolerated since it was not the season for horses to mate, but he was the only one who had the right to mingle with the females. The sudden appearance of a strange female, however, piqued his interest, and it caught the attention of the rest of the horses as well.
Horses, by nature, were social animals. They liked to associate with other horses. Mares in particular tended to form permanent relationships. But unlike the pattern of most herding animals, where the daughters remained with their mothers in close kinship groups, horses generally formed herds of unrelated mares. Young females usually left their natal group when they were fully mature, at about two years old. They did establish dominance hierarchies, which brought privileges and benefits to mares of high rank, and to their young – including first access to water and the best feeding areas – but their attachments were cemented by mutual grooming and other friendly activities.
Although they playfully sparred with each other when they were colts, it was not until the young male horses joined the mature stallions, at about four years old, that they began training in earnest for the day when they would fight for the right to mate. Although they groomed each other in the bachelor herd, vying for dominance was the major activity. Beginning with pushing and shoving, and ritualized defecating and sniffing, the contests escalated, especially during the spring rutting season, to rearing, biting necks, striking at knees, and kicking out hind legs toward faces, heads, and chests. It was only after several years in such associations that males were able to steal young females or displace an established herd male.
As an unattached female who had wandered into their range, Whinney was the object of intense interest on the part of both the female herd and the individual bachelors. Ayla decided she didn't like the way the herd stallion was moving toward them, so proud and forceful, as though he was about to make a claim.
"You don't have to stay any more, Wolf," she said, giving him a sign that released him, and she watched while he stalked. To Wolf, it was a whole herd of Racers and Whinneys, and he wanted to play with them. Ayla was sure that his actions would not pose a serious threat to the horses. He could not bring down such a strong animal alone, anyway. That would have required a pack of wolves, and packs seldom attacked mature animals in the prime of health.
Ayla urged Whinney to start back to the camp. The mare hesitated for a moment, but her habit of obeying the woman was stronger than her interest in the other horses. She started walking, but slowly, and with continual hesitations. Then Wolf dashed into the herd. He was having fun chasing them, and Ayla was glad to see them scatter. It drew their attention away from her Whinney.
When Ayla arrived back at camp, everything was ready for her. Jondalar had just finished erecting the three poles to keep the food they carried out of the reach of most of the animals that might be interested in it. The tent was up, the hole was dug and lined with rocks, and he had even used some stones to make a boundary for the fireplace.
"Look at that island," he told her as she dismounted. He pointed to a stretch of land, built of accumulated silt, in the middle of the river with sedge, reeds, and several trees growing on it. "There's a whole flock of storks over there, black ones and white ones. I watched them land," he said with a pleased smile. "I kept wishing you would come. It was a sight worth seeing. They were diving and soaring, even flipping over. They just folded their wings and dropped from the sky to land; then when they were almost down, they opened their wings. It looked like they were heading south. They'll probably leave in the morning."
Ayla looked across the water at the large, long-billed, long-legged, stately birds. They were actively feeding, walking or running on the land or in the shallow water, snapping at anything that moved with their long, strong beaks, taking fish, lizards, frogs, insects, and earthworms. They even ate carrion, judging from the way they went after the remains of a bison washed up on the beach. The two species were quite similar in general shape, though different in coloring. The white storks had black-edged wings and there were more of them; the black storks had white underparts, and most of them were in the water after fish.
"We saw a big herd of horses on the way back," Ayla said, reaching for the ptarmigan and partridges. "A lot of mares and young ones, but a male was close by. The herd stallion is white."
"White?"
"As white as those white storks. He didn't even have black legs," she said, unfastening the thongs of the pack-saddle basket. "You'd never see him in snow."
"White is rare. I've never seen a white horse," Jondalar said. Then, thinking back to Noria and the First Rites ceremony, he recalled the white horsehide hanging on the wall behind the bed, decorated with the red heads of immature great spotted woodpeckers. "But I did once see the hide of a white horse," he said.
Something about the tone of his voice made Ayla look closer. He saw her look, blushed a little as he turned away to lift the carrier basket off Whinney, then felt compelled to explain further.
"It was during the… ceremony with the Hadumai."
"Are they horse hunters?" Ayla asked. She folded the riding blanket, then picked up the birds and walked to the edge of the river.
"Well, they do hunt horses. Why?" Jondalar asked, walking along with her.
"Remember Talut telling us about hunting the white mammoth? It was very sacred to the Mamutoi because they are the Mammoth Hunters," Ayla said. "If the Hadumai use a white horsehide during ceremonies, I wondered if they thought horses were special animals."
"It's possible, but we weren't with them long enough to know," Jondalar said.
"But they do hunt horses?" she asked, starting to pluck the feathers from the birds.
"Yes, they were hunting horses when Thonolan met them. They weren't very happy with us at first, because we had scattered the herd they were after, but we didn't know."
"I think I will put Whinney's halter on tonight, and tie her next to the tent," Ayla said. "If there are horse hunters out there, I'd rather have her close by. And besides, I didn't like the way that white stallion was coming for her."
"You may be right. Maybe I should stake Racer down, too. I wouldn't mind seeing that white stallion, though," Jondalar said.
"I'd rather not see him again. He was too interested in Whinney. But he is unusual, and beautiful. You're right, white is rare," Ayla said. Feathers were flying as she pulled them out with rapid movements. She paused for a moment. "Black is rare, too," she said. "Do you remember when Ranec said that? I'm sure he meant himself as well, even though he was brown, not really black."
Jondalar felt a pang of jealousy at the mention of the name of the man Ayla almost mated, even though she had come away with him instead. "Are you sorry you did not stay with the Mamutoi and mate with Ranec?" he asked.
She turned and looked at him directly, her hands stopping her task. "Jondalar, you know the only reason I Promised Ranec was that I thought you didn't love me any more, and I knew he did… but, yes, I am a little sorry. I could have stayed with the Mamutoi. If I had not met you, I think I could have been happy with Ranec. I did love him, in a way, but not the way I love you."
"Well, that's an honest answer, anyway," he said, frowning.
"I could have stayed with the Sharamudoi, too, but I want to be where you are. If you need to return to your home, then I want to go with you," Ayla continued, trying to explain. Noticing his frown, she knew it wasn't quite the answer he wanted to hear.
"You asked me, Jondalar. When you ask, I will always tell you what I feel. When I ask, I want you to tell me how you feel. Even if I don't ask, I want you to tell me if something is wrong. I don't ever want that kind of misunderstanding we had last winter to come between us, where I don't know what you mean, and you won't tell me, or you guess that I feel something, but you don't ask. Promise me that you will always tell me, Jondalar."
She looked so serious and so earnest that it made him want to smile with affection. "I promise, Ayla. I would never want to go through a time like that again, either. I couldn't stand it when you were with Ranec, especially when I could see why any woman would be interested in him. He was funny, and friendly. And he was a fine carver, a true artist. My mother would have liked him. She likes artists and carvers. If things had been different, I would have liked him myself. He reminded me of Thonolan, in a way. He may have looked different, but he was just like the Mamutoi, outspoken, confident."
"He was a Mamutoi," Ayla said. "I do miss the Lion Camp. I miss the people. We haven't seen many people on this Journey. I didn't know how far you had traveled, Jondalar, or how much land there is. So much land and so few people."
As the sun moved closer to the earth, the clouds over the high mountains to the west were reaching up to embrace the fiery orb and glowing pink in their excitement. The brightness settled into the brilliant enveloping display, then faded into darkness while Ayla and Jondalar finished their meal. Ayla got up to put the extra birds away; she had cooked much more than they could eat. Jondalar put cooking stones back in the fire in preparation for their evening tea.
"They were delicious," Jondalar said. "I'm glad you wanted to stop early. It was worth it."
Ayla happened to glance toward the island, and, with a gasp, her eyes opened wide. Jondalar heard her startled intake of breath, and looked up.
Several people carrying spears had appeared out of the gloom and stepped into the edge of the light by the fire. Two of them wore capes of horsehide, with the dried head still attached and worn over the head like a hood. Jondalar stood up. One of the men pulled his horse-head hood back and walked toward him.
"Zel-an-don-yee!" the man said, pointing at the tall blond man. Then he slapped himself on his chest. "Hadumai! Jeren!" He was grinning broadly.
Jondalar looked closely, then grinned back. "Jeren! Is that you? Great Mother, I can't believe it! It is you."
The man started talking in a language just as unintelligible to Jondalar as his was to Jeren, but the friendly smiles were understood.
"Ayla!" Jondalar said, motioning her over. "This is Jeren. He's the Hadumai hunter who stopped us when we were heading the other way. I can't believe it!" Both were still grinning with delight. Jeren looked at Ayla, and his smile took on an appreciative gleam as he nodded at Jondalar.
"Jeren, this is Ayla, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Jondalar said, making formal introductions. "Ayla, this is Jeren, one of Haduma's people." Ayla held out both her hands. "Welcome to our camp, Jeren of Haduma's people," she said.
Jeren understood the intent, although it wasn't a customary greeting among his people. He put his spear into a holder slung across his back, took both her hands, and said, "Ayla," knowing it was her name, but not comprehending the rest of the words. He slapped himself on the chest again. "Jeren," he said, then added some unfamiliar words.
Then the man jerked with sudden apprehension. He had seen a wolf move to Ayla's side. Seeing his reaction, Ayla immediately knelt down and put an arm around the wolf's neck. Jeren's eyes opened with surprise.
"Jeren," she said, standing up and making the motions of a formal introduction. "This is Wolf. Wolf, this is Jeren, one of Haduma's people."
"Wolf?" he said, his eyes still full of concern.
Ayla put her hand in front of Wolf's nose, as if letting him smell her scent. Then she knelt down beside the wolf and put her arm around him again, demonstrating her closeness and lack of fear. She touched Jeren's hand, then put her hand to Wolf's nose again, showing him what she wanted him to do. Hesitantly Jeren extended his hand toward the animal.
Wolf touched it with his cold wet nose and pulled back. He had been through a similar introduction many times when they had stayed with the Sharamudoi, and he seemed to understand Ayla's intention. Then Ayla took Jeren's hand and, looking up at him, guided it toward the wolf's head to let him feel the fur, showing him how to stroke Wolf's head. When Jeren looked at her with a smile of acknowledgment and petted Wolf's head on his own accord, she relaxed.
Jeren turned around and looked at the others. "Wolf!" he said, making a gesture toward him. He said some other things, then spoke her name. Four men stepped into the light of the fire. Ayla made welcoming motions to come and sit.
Jondalar, who had been watching, was smiling his approval. "That was a good idea, Ayla," he said.
"Do you think they're hungry? We have a lot of food left," she said. "Why don't you offer it and see."
She took out a platter made of mammoth ivory that she had used for the birds they had eaten, picked up something that looked like a wilted bundle of hay, and opened it to reveal a whole cooked ptarmigan. She held it out toward Jeren and the rest. The aroma preceded it. Jeren went to break off a leg and he found a tender and juicy piece of meat in his hand. The smile on his face after tasting it encouraged the others.
Ayla brought out a partridge as well, served out the stuffing of roots and grains onto a makeshift assortment of bowls and smaller plates, some woven, some made of ivory, and one of wood. She left the men to divide up the meat as they wanted, while she got out a large wooden bowl, one she had made, and filled it with water for tea.
The men looked much more relaxed after the meal, even when Ayla brought Wolf to sniff them. As they all sat around the fire holding cups of tea, they tried to communicate beyond the level of smiling friendliness and hospitality.
Jondalar started. "Haduma?" he asked.
Jeren shook his head and looked sad. He made a motion toward the ground with his hand that Ayla sensed meant she had returned to the Great Earth Mother. Jondalar understood as well that the old woman he had grown so fond of was gone.
"Tamen?" he asked.
Smiling, Jeren nodded in an exaggerated fashion. Then he pointed to one of the others and said something that included Tamen's name. A young man, hardly more than a boy, smiled at them, and Jondalar saw a similarity to the man he had known.
"Tamen, yes," Jondalar said, smiling and nodding. "Tamen's son, or perhaps grandson, I think. I wish Tamen were here," he said to Ayla. "He knew some Zelandonii, and we could talk a little. He made a long Journey there when he was a young man."
Jeren looked around the camp, then at Jondalar, and said "Zel-an-don-yee… Ton… Tonolan?"
This time Jondalar shook his head and looked sad. Then, thinking about it, he made the motion toward the ground. Jeren looked surprised, but he nodded and said a word that was a question. Jondalar didn't understand, and he looked at Ayla. "Do you know what he's asking?"
Though the language was unfamiliar, there was a quality about most languages she had heard that felt familiar. Jeren said the word again, and something about his expression or his tone gave her an idea. She held her hand in the shape of a claw and growled like a cave lion.
The sound she made was so realistic that all the men gaped at her with shocked surprise, but Jeren nodded with understanding. He had asked how Thonolan died, and she had told him. One of the other men said something to Jeren. When Jeren responded, Jondalar heard another familiar name, Noria. The one who asked smiled at the tall blond man, pointed at him, and then at his own eye, and smiled again.
Jondalar felt a flush of excitement. Maybe it meant that Noria did have a baby with his blue eyes. But then he wondered if it was just that the hunter had heard of the man with the blue eyes who had celebrated First Rites with her? He couldn't be sure. The other men were pointing at their eyes and smiling. Were they smiling about a baby with blue eyes? Or grinning about Pleasures with a blue-eyed man?
He thought about saying Noria's name and rocking his arms as though he were holding a baby, but then he glanced at Ayla and held back. He hadn't said anything to her about Noria, or about the announcement Haduma had made the next day that the Mother had blessed the ceremony and that the young woman would have a child, a boy named Jondal, who would have eyes like his. He knew that Ayla wanted a child of his… or of his spirit. How would she feel about it if she knew Noria already had one? If he were Ayla, he would probably be jealous.
Ayla was making motions indicating that the hunters should sleep near the fire. Several nodded and got up to get their sleeping rolls. They had stashed them downriver before they approached the fire they had smelled, hoping it was a friendly fire, but not sure. But when Ayla saw them heading around the tent, toward the place where she had staked the horses, she ran in front of the men and held up her hand to stop them. They looked at each other with questioning glances when she disappeared into the dark. When they started to leave again, Jondalar made a motion to wait. They smiled and nodded acquiescence.
Their expression changed to one of fear when Ayla reappeared leading two horses. She stood between the two animals and tried to explain with motions and even the expressive Clan gestures that these were special horses that should not be hunted, but neither she nor Jondalar was sure they understood. Jondalar was even concerned that they might think she had some unique powers to Call horses and had brought these expressly for them to hunt. He told Ayla that he thought a demonstration might help.
He got a spear from inside the tent and made motions with it as though he were going to stab Racer, but Ayla stood barring the way with her arms held up and crossed in front of her, shaking her head emphatically. Jeren scratched his head and the other men looked puzzled. Finally Jeren nodded, took one of his own spears out of the holder on his back, aimed it toward Racer, and then stabbed it into the ground. Jondalar didn't know if the man thought Ayla was telling them not to hunt those two horses, or not to hunt horses at all, but some point had been understood.
The men slept near their fire that night but were up just after first light. Jeren said some words to Ayla that Jondalar vaguely remembered referred to appreciation for food. The visitor smiled at the woman when Wolf sniffed at him and allowed himself to be petted again. She tried to invite them to share their morning meal, but they left quickly.
"I wish I had known some of their language," Ayla said. "It was nice to visit, but we couldn't talk."
"Yes, I wish we could have, too," Jondalar said, sincerely wishing that he had found out whether Noria ever did have a baby, and if it had his blue eyes.
"In the Clan, different clans used some words in their everyday language that weren't always understood by everyone, but everyone knew the silent language of gestures. You could always communicate," Ayla said. "Too bad the Others don't have a language everyone can understand."
"It would be helpful, especially when you are on a Journey, but it's hard for me to imagine a language that everyone would understand. Do you really think that people of the Clan everywhere can understand the same sign language?" Jondalar asked.
"It's not like a language they have to learn. They are born with it, Jondalar. It is so ancient that it is in their memories, and their memories go back to the beginning. You can't imagine how far back that is," Ayla said.
She shivered with a chill of fear as she remembered the time that Creb, to save her life, had taken her back with them, against all tradition. By the unwritten law of the Clan, he should have let her die. But to the Clan, she was dead, now. It occurred to her how ironic that was. When Broud had cursed her with death, he shouldn't have. He didn't have a good reason. Creb did have a reason; she had broken the most powerful taboo of the Clan. Perhaps he should have made sure that she died, but he didn't.
They began striking camp and stowing their tent, sleeping rolls, cooking utensils, ropes, and other equipment in the pack-saddle baskets, with the efficiency of unspoken routine. Ayla was filling waterbags at the river when Jeren and his hunters returned. With smiles and many words of what were obviously profuse thanks, the men presented Ayla with a package wrapped in a piece of fresh aurochs hide. She opened it to find the tender rump, butchered from a recent kill.
"I am grateful, Jeren," Ayla said, and she gave him the beautiful smile that always made Jondalar melt with love. It seemed to have a similar affect on Jeren, and Jondalar smiled inwardly when he saw the dazed expression on the man's face. It took Jeren a moment to collect himself; then he turned to Jondalar and began talking, trying very hard to communicate something. He stopped when he saw he was not being understood, and he talked to the other men. Then he turned back to Jondalar.
"Tamen," he said, and began walking toward the south and motioning for them to follow. "Tamen," he repeated, beckoning and adding some other words.
"I think he wants you to go with him," Ayla said, "to see that man you know. The one who speaks Zelandonii."
"Tamen, Zel-an-don-yee. Hadumai," Jeren said, beckoning both of them.
"He must want us to visit. What do you think?" Jondalar said. "Yes, I think you're right," Ayla said. "Do you want to stop and visit?"
"It would mean going back," Jondalar said, "and I don't know how far. If we had met them farther south, I wouldn't have minded stopping for a little while on the way, but I hate to go back now that we've come this far."
Ayla nodded. "You'll have to tell him, somehow." Jondalar smiled at Jeren, then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, "but we need to go north. North," he repeated, pointing in that direction.
Jeren looked distressed, shook his head, then closed his eyes as if trying to think. He walked toward them and took a short staff out of his belt. Jondalar noticed the top of it was carved. He knew he had seen one like it before, and he tried to remember where. Jeren cleared a space on the ground, then drew a line with the staff, and another crossing it. Below the first line, he drew a figure that vaguely resembled a horse. At the end of the second line pointing toward the channel of the Great Mother River, he drew a circle with a few lines radiating from it. Ayla looked more closely.
"Jondalar," she said, with excitement in her voice, "when Mamut was showing me symbols and teaching me what they meant, that was a sign for 'sun.'"
"And that line points in the direction of the setting sun," Jondalar said, pointing west. "Where he drew the horse, that must be south." He indicated the direction when he said it.
Jeren was nodding vigorously. Then he pointed north and frowned. He walked to the north end of the line he had drawn and stood facing them. He lifted his arms and crossed them in front of him, in the same way that Ayla had done when she was trying to tell Jeren not to hunt Whinney and Racer. Then he shook his head no. Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other and back at Jeren.
"Do you think he's trying to tell us not to go north?" Ayla asked.
Jondalar felt a dawning recognition of what Jeren was trying to communicate. "Ayla, I don't think he just wants us to go south with him and visit. I think he's trying to tell us something more. I think he's trying to warn us not to go north."
"Warn us? What could be north that he would warn us against?" Ayla said.
"Could it be the great wall of ice?" Jondalar wondered.
"We know about the ice. We hunted mammoth near it with the Mamutoi. It's cold, but not really dangerous, is it?"
"It does move," Jondalar said, "over many years, and sometimes it even uproots trees with the changing seasons, but it doesn't move so fast that you can't get out of its way."
"I don't think it's the ice," Ayla said. "But he's telling us not to go north, and he seems very concerned."
"I think you're right, but I can't imagine what could be so dangerous," Jondalar said. "Sometimes people who don't travel much beyond their own range imagine that the world outside their territory is dangerous, because it's different."
"I don't think Jeren is a man who fears very much," Ayla said.
"I have to agree," Jondalar said, then faced the man. "Jeren, I wish I could understand you."
Jeren had been watching them. He guessed from their expressions that they had understood his warning, and he was waiting for their response.
"Do you think we should go with him and talk to Tamen?" Ayla asked.
"I hate to turn back and lose time now. We still have to reach that glacier before the end of winter. If we keep going, we should make it easily, with time to spare, but if anything happens to delay us, it could be spring and melting, and too dangerous to cross," Jondalar said.
"So we'll keep going north," Ayla said.
"I think we should, but we will be watchful. I just wish I knew what I should be watching for." He looked at the man again. "Jeren, my friend, I thank you for your warning," he said. "We will be careful, but I think we should keep on going." He pointed south, then shook his head and pointed north.
Jeren, trying to protest, shook his head again, but he finally gave up and nodded acceptance. He had done what he could. He went to talk to the other man in the horse-head cape, spoke for a moment, then returned and indicated they were going.
Ayla and Jondalar waved as Jeren and his hunters left. Then they finished up their packing and, with some reservations, started out toward the north.
As the Journeyers traveled across the northern end of the vast central grassland, they could see the terrain ahead was changing; the flat lowlands were giving way to rugged hills. The occasional highlands that had interrupted the central plain were connected, though partly submerged beneath the soil in the midland basin, to great broken blocks of faulted sedimentary rock running in an irregular backbone from northeast to southwest through the plain. Relatively recent volcanic eruptions had covered the highlands with fertile soils that nurtured forests of pine, spruce, and larch on the upper reaches, with birch and willows on the lower slopes, while brush and steppe grass grew on the dry lee sides.
As they started up into the rugged hills, they found themselves having to backtrack and work their way around deep holes and broken formations that blocked their way. Ayla thought the land seemed more barren, though with the deepening cold she wondered if it might be the changing season that gave that impression. Looking back from the heightened elevation, they gained a new perspective of the land they had crossed. The few deciduous trees and brush were bare of leaves, but the central plain was covered with the dusty gold of dry standing hay that would feed multitudes through the winter.
They sighted many large grazing animals, in herds and individually. Horses seemed most prevalent to Ayla, perhaps because she was especially conscious of them, but giant deer, red deer, and, particularly as they reached the northern steppes, reindeer were also abundant. The bison were gathering into large migratory herds and heading south. During one whole day, the great humpy beasts with huge black horns moved over the rolling hills of the northern grassland in a thick, undulating carpet, and Ayla and Jondalar stopped often to watch. The dust rose to cast an obscuring pall over the great moving mass, the earth shook with the pounding hooves of their passage, and the combined roar of the multitude of deep rolling grunts and bawls growled like thunder.
They saw mammoths less often, usually traveling north, but even from a distance the giant woolly beasts commanded attention. When not driven by the demands of reproduction, male mammoths tended to form small herds with loose ties for companionship. Occasionally one would join a female herd and travel with it for a while, but whenever the Journeyers noticed a lone mammoth, it was invariably male. The larger permanent herds were of closely related females; a grandmother, the old and wily matriarch who was their leader, and sometimes a sister or two, with their daughters and grandchildren. The female herds were easy to identify because their tusks tended to be somewhat smaller and less curved, and there were always young ones with them.
Though also impressive when they were sighted, woolly rhinoceroses were most rare and least social. They didn't, as a rule, herd together. Females kept to small family groups and, except during mating, males were solitary. Neither mammoths nor rhinoceroses, except for the young and the very old, had much to fear from four-legged hunters, not even the huge cave lion. The males in particular could afford to be solitary; the females needed the herds to help protect their young.
The smaller woolly musk-oxen, however, who were goatlike creatures, all banded together for protection. When they were under attack, the adults usually packed themselves into a circular phalanx facing outward, with the young ones in the middle. A few chamois and ibex made an appearance as Ayla and Jondalar climbed higher in the hills; they often dropped down to lower ground with the approach of winter.
Many of the small animals were secure for the winter in their nests burrowed deep in the ground, surrounded by stores of seeds, nuts, bulbs, roots, and, in the case of pikas, piles of hay that they had cut and dried. The rabbits and hares were changing color, not to white, but to a lighter mottled shade, and on a wooded knoll they saw a beaver and a tree squirrel. Jondalar used his spear-thrower to get the beaver. Besides the meat, the fatty beaver tail was a rare and rich delicacy, roasted by itself on a spit over the fireplace.
They usually used the spear-throwers for the larger game they hunted. They were both quite accurate with the weapons, but Jondalar had more power, could throw farther. Ayla often brought down the smaller animals with her sling.
Though they didn't hunt them, they noticed that otter, badger, polecat, marten, and mink were also numerous. The carnivores – foxes, wolves, lynxes, and larger cats – found sustenance in small game or the other herbivores. And though they seldom fished on this leg of their Journey, Jondalar knew there were sizable fish in the river, including perch, pike, and very big carp.
Toward evening they saw a cave with a large opening and decided to investigate it. As they approached, the horses did not show any nervousness, which the humans took to be a good sign. Wolf sniffed around with interest when they entered the cave, obviously curious, but no hackles were raised. Seeing the unconcerned behavior of the animals, Ayla felt confident that the cave was empty, and they decided to camp for the night.
After building a fire, they made a torch to explore a little deeper. Near the front were many signs that the cave had been used before. Jondalar thought the scrapes on the walls were either from a bear or a cave lion. Wolf smelled out droppings nearby but they were so dry and old that it was hard to tell what animal had made them. They found large, dry leg bones that had been partly eaten. The way they were broken and the teeth marks made Ayla think cave hyenas had cracked them with their extremely powerful jaws. She shuddered with repugnance at the thought.
Hyenas were no worse an animal than any other. They scavenged the carcasses that had died naturally and the kills of others, but so did other predators, including wolves, lions, and humans, and hyenas were also effective pack hunters. That didn't matter, Ayla's hatred of them was irrational. To her they represented the worst of all that was bad.
But the cave had not been used recently. All the signs were old, including the charcoal in a shallow pit from the fire of some other human visitor. Ayla and Jondalar went into the cave for some distance, but it seemed to go on forever, and beyond the dry front opening there were no signs of use. Stone columns, seeming to grow up from the floor or down from the ceiling and sometimes meeting in the middle, were the only inhabitants of the cool damp interior.
When they came to a bend, they thought they heard running water from deep within, and they decided to turn back. They knew the makeshift torch would not last long, and neither of them wanted to go beyond sight of the fading light from the entrance. They walked back touching the limestone walls and were glad to see the drab gold of dry grass and brilliant golden light outlining clouds in the west.
As they rode deeper into the highlands north of the great central plain, Ayla and Jondalar noticed more changes. The terrain was becoming pocked with caves, caverns, and sinkholes that ranged from bowl-shaped dips covered with grass, to inaccessible drop-offs that fell to great depths. It was a peculiar landscape that made them feel vaguely uneasy. While surface streams and lakes were rare, they sometimes heard the eerie sound of rivers running underground.
Unknown creatures of warm ancient seas were the cause of that strange and unpredictable land. Over untold millennia, the sea floors grew thick with their settling shells and skeletons. After even longer eons, the sediment of calcium hardened, was lifted high by conflicting movements of the earth, and became rocks of calcium carbonate, limestone. Underlying great stretches of land, most of the earth's caves were formed out of limestone because, given the right conditions, the hard sedimentary rock will dissolve.
In pure water, it is hardly soluble at all, but water that is even slightly acid attacks limestone. During warmer seasons and when climates were humid, circulating ground water, bearing carbonic acid from plants and charged with carbon dioxide, dissolved vast quantities of the carbonate rock.
Flowing along flat bedding planes and down minute cracks at the vertical joints in the thick layers of the calcareous stone, the ground water gradually widened and deepened the fissures. It carved jagged pavements and intricate grooves as it carried the dissolved limestone away, to escape in seepages and springs. Forced to lower levels by gravity, the acidic water enlarged underground cracks into caves. Caves became caverns and stream channels, with narrow vertical shafts opening into them, and eventually joined with others to become entire subterranean water systems.
The dissolving rock below the ground had a profound effect on the land above it, and the landscape, called karst, displayed unusual and distinctive features. As caves became larger, and their tops extended closer to the surface, they collapsed, creating steep-walled sinkholes. Occasional remnants of the cavern roofs left natural bridges. Streams and rivers running along the surface would suddenly disappear into the sinkholes and flow underground, sometimes leaving valleys that had been formed earlier by rivers, high and dry.
Water was becoming harder to find. Running water quickly sank into cavities and potholes in the rocks. Even after a heavy rainfall, the water disappeared almost instantly, with no rivulets or streams running across the ground. Once the travelers had to go to a small pool at the bottom of a sinkhole for the precious fluid. Another time, water suddenly appeared in a large spring, flowed across the surface for a while, then disappeared underground again.
The ground was barren and rocky, with thin surface soil that exposed underlying rock. Animal life was scarce as well. Except for some mouflon, with their tightly curled wool coats thickened for winter, and heavy curling horns, the only animals they saw were a few rock marmots. The quick, wily little creatures were adept at evading their many predators. Whether it was wolves, arctic foxes, hawks, or golden eagles, a high-pitched whistle from a lookout sent them scurrying into small holes and caves.
Wolf tried to follow them in pursuit, to no avail, but since long-legged horses were not normally perceived as dangerous, Ayla managed to down a few with her sling. The furry little rodents, fattened for winter hibernation, tasted much like rabbit, but they were small, and for the first time since the previous summer, they often fished the Great Mother River for their dinner.
At first their uneasiness made Ayla and Jondalar very careful traveling through the karst landscape, with its strange formations, caves, and holes, but familiarity lessened their concern. They were walking to give the horses a rest. Jondalar had Racer on a long lead but let him stop to graze a mouthful of the sparse dry grass now and then. Whinney was doing the same, biting off a mouthful, then following Ayla, though she was not using the halter.
"I wonder if the danger Jeren was trying to warn us about was this barren land full of caves and holes," Ayla was saying. "I don't like it much here."
"No, I don't either. I didn't know it would be like this," Jondalar said.
"Haven't you been here before? But I thought you came this way," the woman said, looking surprised. "You said you followed the Great Mother River."
"We did follow the Great Mother River, but we stayed on the other side. We didn't cross until we were much farther south. I thought it would be easier to stay on this side coming back, and I was curious about this side. The river makes a very sharp turn not far from here. We were heading east then, and I wondered about the highland that forced her south. I knew this would be the only chance I'd ever have to see it."
"I wish you had told me before."
"What difference does it make? We're still following the river."
"But I thought you were familiar with this area. You don't know any more about it than I do." Ayla wasn't quite sure why it bothered her so much, except that she had counted on him to know what to expect, and now she found that he didn't. It made her feel nervous about the strange place.
They had been walking along, involved in the conversation that was edging toward a grievance, if not an argument, and not paying much attention to where they were going. Suddenly Wolf, who had been trotting alongside of Ayla, yipped and nudged her leg. They both turned to look and stopped short. Ayla felt a sudden surge of fright, and Jondalar blanched.