Plains of Passage (26 page)

She stopped in midstroke and looked up at him. His brow revealed his earnest concern, but his expressive blue eyes showed mixed feelings. Though she didn’t understand his misgivings about Wolf, the powerful love he felt for her showed in his eyes, too. She felt drawn to those eyes, to the sheer male magnetism of his closeness, to the fascination that he didn’t fully realize he had or know the strength of, and felt her resistance evaporate.

“But you’re right, too,” she said, feeling a little contrite. “He did make them run before we were ready, and he might have spoiled the hunt.”

Jondalar’s frown vanished in a relieved smile. “So we’re both right,” he said. She smiled back, and the next moment they were in each other’s arms, and his mouth found hers. They clung together, relieved that their argument was over, wanting to cancel out the distance that had come between them with physical closeness.

When they stopped expressing their fervent relief, but still stood with their arms around each other, Ayla said, “I do think Wolf could learn to help us hunt. We just have to teach him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But since he’s going to be traveling with us, I think you should teach him as much as he’ll learn. If nothing else, maybe you can train him not to interfere when we’re hunting,” he said.

“You should help, too, so he’ll mind both of us.”

“I doubt that he’ll pay attention to me,” he said. Then seeing that she was ready to disagree, he added, “But if you want, I’ll try.” He took the stone axe from her and decided to bring up another idea she had raised. “You said something about using Clan signs when we don’t want to shout. That could be useful.” As Ayla went to look for another tree of the right shape and size, she was smiling.

Jondalar examined the tree she had been working on to see how much more chopping it would need. It was difficult to cut down a hard tree with a stone axe. The brittle flint of the axe head was made rather thick so that it would not break too easily from the force of the blow, and a strike did not cut in deeply, but instead chipped a little away. The tree looked more as if it had been gnawed than cut. Ayla listened to the rhythmic sound of stone hitting wood as she carefully examined the trees in the grove. When she found one that was suitable, she notched the bark then looked for a third.

When the necessary trees were cut down, they dragged them out to the clearing and, using knives and the axe, stripped the branches, then lined them up on the ground. Ayla judged the size and marked them, and they cut them all to an equal length. While Jondalar removed the internal organs from the aurochs, she walked back to the lodge for ropes and a device she had made of leather straps and thongs knotted and braided together. She brought along one of the torn floor mats as well when she returned, then signaled for Whinney and adjusted the special harness on her.

Using two of the long poles—the third was only necessary for the tripod she used to keep food out of the reach of prowling scavengers—she attached the narrower ends to the harness she had put on the horse, crossing them over above the withers. The heavier ends dragged on the ground, one on either side of the mare. With ropes, they fastened the grass mat across the more widely spread poles of the travois, near the ground, and attached extra ropes to tie down and hold the aurochs.

Looking at the size of the huge cow, Ayla began to wonder if perhaps it would be too much even for the strong steppe horse. The man and woman both strained to get the aurochs on the travois. The mat offered only minimal support, but by tying the animal directly to the poles, it did not drag on the ground. After their efforts, Ayla was even more concerned that the load would be too much for Whinney, and she almost changed her mind. Jondalar had already removed the stomach, intestines, and other organs; perhaps they should skin it out right there and cut it into more manageable pieces. She didn’t feel the need to show him that she could bring it to the Camp alone any more, but since it was already loaded on the travois, she decided to have Whinney give it a try.

If Ayla was surprised when the horse began to pull the heavy load over the rough terrain, Jondalar was even more so. The aurochs was bigger and heavier than Whinney, and it was a strain, but with only two points dragging, and most of the weight borne by the poles resting on the ground, the load was manageable. The slope was more difficult, but
the sturdy horse of the steppes accomplished even that effort. On the uneven ground of any natural surface, the travois was by far the most efficient conveyance to transport loads.

The device was Ayla’s invention, the result of need, opportunity, and an intuitive leap. Living alone with no one to help her, she often found herself with the need to move things that were too heavy for her to carry or drag alone—such as a whole, full-grown animal—and usually had to break them down into smaller pieces, and then had to think of some way to protect what was left behind from scavengers. Her unique opportunity was the mare she had raised, and the chance to utilize the strength of a horse to help her. But her special advantage was a brain that could recognize a possibility and devise the means.

Once they reached the earthlodge, Ayla and Jondalar untied the aurochs, and after words and hugs of thanks and praise, they led the horse back down to get the animal’s innards. They, too, were useful. When they reached the clearing, Jondalar picked up his broken spear. The front of the shaft had snapped off; the point was still embedded in the carcass, but the long straight back section was still whole. Perhaps he could find a use for it, he thought, taking it with him.

Back at the Camp they removed Whinney’s harness. Wolf was nosing around the inner organs; intestines were a favorite of his. Ayla hesitated a moment. If she’d had need, she could have used them for several purposes, from fat storage to waterproofing, but it wasn’t possible to take much more than they already had with them.

Why did it seem, she thought, that just because they had horses and were able to take more with them, they needed more? She recalled that when she left the Clan and was traveling on foot, she carried everything she needed in a pack basket on her back. It was true that their tent was much more comfortable than the low hide shelter she had used then, and they did have changes of clothes, and winter ones that they weren’t using, and more food and utensils, and … she’d never be able to carry everything in a pack basket now, she realized.

She threw the useful, though presently unnecessary, intestines to Wolf, and she and Jondalar turned to butchering the wild beef. After making several strategic cuts, together they began to pull off the hide, a process that was more efficient than skinning it with a knife. They only used a sharp implement to sever a few points of attachment. With a little effort, the membrane between the skin and the muscle separated cleanly, and they ended up with only the two holes of the spear points marring a perfect hide. They rolled it up to keep it from drying too quickly, and they put the head aside. The tongue and brains were rich and tender, and they planned to eat those delicacies that night. The
skull with its large horns, however, they would leave for the Camp. It could have special meaning for someone, and if not, there were many useful parts to it.

Then Ayla took the stomach and bladder to the small stream that supplied water for the Camp to wash them, and Jondalar went down to the river to find brush and slender trees that could be bent to make a round bowl-shaped frame for the small boat. They also searched for deadfall and driftwood. They would need several fires to keep animals and insects away from their meat, as well as a fire inside overnight.

They worked until it was nearly dark, dividing the cow into large segments, then cutting the meat into small tongue-shaped pieces and hanging them to dry over makeshift racks made of brushwood, but they still didn’t finish. They brought the racks into the lodge overnight. Their tent was still damp, but they folded it and brought it in, too. They would set it up again the next day when they brought the meat out, to let the wind and the sun finish the drying.

In the morning, after they cut up the last of the meat, Jondalar began to construct the boat. Using both steam and hot rocks heated in the fire, he bent the wood for the boat frame. Ayla was very interested and wanted to know where he learned the process.

“My brother, Thonolan. He was a spearmaker,” Jondalar explained, holding down the end of a small straight tree that he had formed into a curve, while she lashed it to a circular section with sinew made of a tendon from the hind legs of the aurochs.

“But what does spearmaking have to do with making a boat?”

“Thonolan could make a spear shaft perfectly straight and true. But to learn how to take the bend out of wood, you first have to learn how to bend wood, and he could do that just as well. He was much better at it than I am. He had a real feel for it. I suppose you could say his craft was not only making spears, but shaping wood. He could make the best snowshoes, and that means taking a straight branch or tree and bending it completely around. Maybe that’s why he felt so much at home with the Sharamudoi. They were expert wood shapers. They used hot water and steam to bend out their dugouts to the shape they wanted.”

“What is a dugout?” Ayla asked.

“It’s a boat carved out of a whole tree. The front end is shaped to a fine edge, the back end, too, and it can glide through the water so easily and smoothly, it’s like cutting with a sharp knife. They’re beautiful boats. This one we’re making is clumsy by comparison, but there are no big trees around here. You’ll see dugouts when we reach the Sharamudoi.”

“How much longer before we get there?”

“It’s quite a long ways, yet. Beyond those mountains,” he said, looking west, toward the high peaks indistinct in the summer haze.

“Oh,” she said, feeling disappointed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be so far. It would be nice to see some people. I wish someone had been here at this Camp. Maybe they’ll come back before we leave.” Jondalar noticed a wistfulness in her tone.

“Are you lonely for people?” he asked. “You spent such a long time alone in your valley, I thought you’d be used to it.”

“Maybe that’s why. I spent enough time being alone. I don’t mind it for a while, sometimes I like it, but we haven’t seen any people for so long … I just thought it would be fun to talk to someone,” she said, then looked at him. “I’m so happy you are with me, Jondalar. It would be so lonely without you.”

“I am happy, too, Ayla. Happy I didn’t have to make this trip alone, happier than I can say that you came with me. I’m looking forward to seeing people, too. When we reach the Great Mother River, we should meet some. We’ve been traveling across country. People tend to live near fresh water, rivers or lakes, not out in the open.”

Ayla nodded, then held the end of another slender sapling, which had been heating over hot rocks and steam, while Jondalar carefully bent it into a circle, then helped him lash it to the others. Judging from the size of it, she began to see that it would take the entire hide of the aurochs to cover it. There would be no more than a few scraps left over, not enough to make a new rawhide meat-keeper to replace the one she had lost in the flash flood. They needed the boat to cross the river, she would just have to think of something else to use. Maybe a basket would work, she thought, tightly woven, long in shape, and rather flat, with a lid. There were cattails and reeds and willows, plenty of basket-making materials around, but would a basket work?

The problem with carrying freshly killed meat was that blood continued to seep out, and no matter how tightly woven, it would eventually leak through a basket. That was why thick, hard rawhide worked so well. It absorbed the blood, but slowly, and didn’t leak, and after a period of use, could be washed and redried. She needed something that would do the same thing. She’d have to think about it.

The problem of replacing her parfleche stayed on her mind, and when the frame was finished, and they left it to wait for the sinew to dry hard and firm, Ayla headed down to the river to collect some basket-making materials. Jondalar went with her but only as far as the birch woods. Since he was all set up for shaping wood, he decided to make some new spears, to replace those that had been lost or broken.

Wymez had given him some good flint before he left, roughed out
and preshaped so that new points could be made easily. He had made the bone-pointed spears before they left the Summer Meeting, to show how they were done. They were typical of the kind his people used, but he had learned how to make the flint-tipped Mamutoi spears as well, and because he was a skilled flint knapper, they were faster for him to make than shaping and smoothing bone points.

In the afternoon Ayla started to make a special meat-keeping basket. When she lived in the valley, she had spent many long winter nights easing her loneliness by making baskets and mats, among other things, and she had become very quick and adept at weaving. She could almost make a basket in the dark, and her new carrying container for meat was finished before she went to bed. It was made extremely well, she had thought carefully about the shape and size, materials and tightness of weave, but she wasn’t quite satisfied with it.

She went out in the darkening twilight to change her absorbent wool and wash the piece she was wearing in the small stream. She put it near the fire to dry, but out of Jondalar’s sight. Then, without quite looking at him, she lay down in their sleeping furs beside him. Women of the Clan were taught to avoid men as much as possible when they bled, and never to look at them directly. It made Clan men very nervous to be around women during that time. It had surprised her that Jondalar had no qualms about it, but she still felt uncomfortable, and she took pains to be discreet in caring for herself.

Jondalar had always been considerate of her during her moon times, sensing her disquiet, but once she was in bed, he leaned over to kiss her. Though she kept her eyes closed, she responded with warmth, and when he rolled over on his back again, and they were lying side by side watching the play of firelight on the walls and ceilings of the comfortable structure, they talked, though she was careful not to look at him.