by Jean M. Auel
He got up, put on his trousers, and started toward the entrance. Pushing aside the drape, he stepped outside and felt a sharp cool wind on his bare chest. He was going to need warmer clothes, he thought, hurrying to the place where the men passed their morning water. Instead of the cloud of colorful butterflies that usually fluttered nearby—he had wondered why they should be so attracted to the strong-smelling place—he suddenly noticed a colorful leaf fluttering down, and then he saw that most of those left on the trees were starting to turn.
Why hadn’t he noticed that before? The days had passed so quickly and the weather had been so pleasant that he hadn’t paid attention to the changing season. He suddenly recalled that they were facing south in a southern region of the land. It could be much later into the season than he thought, and much colder to the north, where they were heading. As he hurried back to the dwelling, he was more determined than ever that they had to leave very soon.
“You’re awake,” Ayla said, entering with Darvalo while Jondalar was dressing. “I was coming to get you before all the food was put away.”
“I was just putting something warm on. It’s cool out there,” he said. “It will soon be time to let my beard grow.”
Ayla knew he was telling her more than his words said. He was still talking about the same thing they had talked about the night before; the season was changing and they had to be on their way. She didn’t want to talk about it.
“We should probably unpack our winter clothes and make sure they are undamaged, Ayla. Are the pack baskets still at Dolando’s?” he said.
He knows they are. Why is he asking me? You know why, Ayla said to herself, trying to think of something to change the subject.
“Yes, they are,” Darvalo said, trying to be helpful.
“I need a warmer shirt. Do you remember what basket my winter clothes were in, Ayla?”
Of course she did. So did he.
“The clothes you are wearing now aren’t anything like the ones you wore when you first came, Jondalar,” Darvalo said.
“These were given to me by a Mamutoi woman. When I came before, I was still wearing my Zelandonii clothes.”
“I tried on the shirt you gave me this morning. It’s still too big for me, but not as much,” the young man said.
“Do you still have that shirt, Darvo? I’ve almost forgotten what it looks like.”
“Do you want to see it?”
“Yes. Yes, I would,” Jondalar said.
In spite of herself, Ayla was curious, too.
They walked the few steps to Dolando’s wooden shelter. From a shelf above his bed, Darvalo took down a carefully wrapped package. He untied the cord, opened the soft leather wrapping, and held up the shirt.
It was unusual, Ayla thought. The decorative patterns, as well as the longer style and looser cut were not at all like the Mamutoi clothing she was used to. One thing surprised her more than anything else. It was decorated with black-tipped white ermine tails.
It even looked strange to Jondalar. So much had happened since he had last worn that shirt, it seemed almost quaint, old-fashioned. He hadn’t worn it much in the years he lived with the Sharamudoi, preferring to dress like the others, and though it was only a few moons longer than a year since he had given it to Darvo, it felt like ages since he had seen clothing from his homeland.
“It’s supposed to fit loose, Darvo. You wear it belted. Go ahead and put it on. I’ll show you. Do you have something to tie around you?” Jondalar said.
The young man pulled the highly decorated and patterned tunic-style leather shirt over his head, then handed Jondalar a long leather thong. The man told Darvo to stretch up, then belted it fairly low, almost at the hips, so that it bloused in a way that made the ermine tails hang free.
“See? It’s not so big on you, Darvo,” Jondalar said. “What do you think, Ayla?”
“It’s unusual, I’ve never seen a shirt like that. But I think it looks fine, Darvalo,” she said.
“I like it,” the young man said, holding out his arms and looking down, trying to see how it looked. Maybe he’d wear it the next time they went to visit the Sharamudoi downriver. She might like it, that girl he’d noticed.
“I’m glad I had a chance to show you how to wear it …” Jondalar said, “before we left.”
“When are you leaving?” Darvalo asked, looking startled.
“Tomorrow, or the day after at the latest,” Jondalar said, looking straight at Ayla. “As soon as we can get ready.”
“The rains may have started on that side of the mountains,” Dolando said, “and you remember what the Sister is like when she’s flooding.”
“I hope it won’t be as bad as that,” Jondalar said. “We’d need one of your big boats to cross.”
“If you want to go by boat, we would take you to the Sister,” Carlono said.
“We need to get more bog myrtle, anyway,” Carolio added, “and that’s where we go for it.”
“I would be happy to go up the river in your boat, but I don’t think the horses can ride in one,” Jondalar said.
“Didn’t you say they can swim across rivers? Maybe they could swim behind the boat,” Carlono suggested. “And the wolf could ride.”
“Yes, horses can swim across a river, but it’s a long way to the Sister, several days as I recall,” Jondalar said, “and I don’t think they could swim upriver for such a long distance.”
“There is a way over the mountains,” Dolando said. “You’ll have to do a little backtracking, then go up and around one of the lower peaks, but the trail is marked and it will, eventually, take you close to where the Sister joins the Mother. There is a high ridge just to the south that makes it easy to see even from a distance, once you reach the lowland to the west.”
“But would that be the best place to cross the Sister?” Jondalar asked, remembering the wide swirling waters from the last time.
“Perhaps not, but from there you can follow the Sister north until you find a better place, although she’s not an easy river. Her feeders come down out of the mountains hard and fast, her current is much swifter than the Mother’s, and she’s more treacherous,” Carlono said. “A few of us once went upstream on her for almost a moon. She stayed swift and difficult the whole time.”
“It’s the Mother I need to follow to get back, and that means crossing the Sister,” Jondalar said.
“Then I’ll wish you well.”
“You’ll need food,” Roshario said, “and I have something I’d like to give you, Jondalar.”
“We don’t have much room to take anything extra,” Jondalar said.
“It is for your mother,” Roshario said, “Jetamio’s favorite necklace. I saved it to give to Thonolan, if he came back. It won’t take much room. After her mother died, Jetamio needed to know she belonged somewhere. I told her to remember she was always Sharamudoi. She made the necklace out of chamois teeth and the backbones of a small sturgeon, to represent the land and the river. I thought your mother might want something that belonged to her son’s chosen woman.”
“You’re right. She would,” Jondalar said. “Thank you. I know it will mean a great deal to Marthona.”
“Where is Ayla? I have something to give her, too. I hope she will have room for it,” Roshario said.
“She’s in with Tholie, packing,” Jondalar said. “She doesn’t really want to leave, yet, not until your arm is healed. But we really can’t wait any longer.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Roshario fell into step beside him as they walked toward the dwellings. “Ayla took off the old birchbark and put on a fresh piece yesterday. Except that it’s smaller from not using it, my arm seems healed, but she wants me to keep this on for a while longer. She says once I start using my arm again, it will fill out.”
“I’m sure it will.”
“I don’t know what is taking the runner and the Shamud so long to get here, but Ayla has explained what to do, not only to me, but to Dolando, Tholie, Carolio, and sever
al others. We’ll manage without her, I’m sure—although we would rather you both stayed. It’s not too late to change your mind …”
“It means more to me than I can tell you, Roshario, that you would welcome us so willingly … especially with Dolando, and Ayla’s … upbringing …”
She stopped and looked at the tall man. “That’s bothered you, hasn’t it?”
Jondalar felt the red heat of embarrassment. “It did,” he admitted. “It really doesn’t anymore, but knowing how Dolando felt about them, that you would still accept her, makes it … I can’t explain it. It relieves me. I don’t want her to be hurt. She’s been through enough.”
“She’s stronger for it, though.” Roshario studied him, noted the frown of concern, the troubled look in his stunning blue eyes. “You’ve been gone a long time, Jondalar. You’ve known many people, learned other customs, other ways, even other languages. Your own people may not know you anymore—you are not even the same person you were when you left here—and they will not be quite the people you remember. You will think of each other as you were, not as you are now.”
“I’ve worried so much about Ayla, I hadn’t thought of that, but you are right. It has been a long time. She might fit in better than I. They will be strangers, and she will learn about them very quickly, the way she always does …”
“And you will have expectations,” Roshario said, starting toward the wooden shelters again. Before they entered, the woman stopped again. “You will always be welcome here, Jondalar. Both of you.”
“Thank you, but it’s such a long way to travel. You have no idea how long, Roshario.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But you do, and you are used to traveling. If you should ever decide that you want to come back, it won’t seem so long.”
“For someone who never dreamt of making a long Journey, I have already traveled more than I want,” Jondalar said. “Once I get back, I think my Journeying days will be over. You were right when you said it was time to settle, but it might make getting used to home easier knowing that I have a choice.”
When they pushed the entrance flap aside, they found only Markeno inside. “Where’s Ayla?” Jondalar asked.
“She and Tholie went to get the plants she was drying. Didn’t you see them, Roshario?”
“We came from the field. I thought she was here,” Jondalar said.
“She was. Ayla’s been telling Tholie about some of her medicines. After she looked at your arm yesterday, and started explaining what to do for you, they’ve been talking about nothing but plants, and what they are good for. That woman knows a lot, Jondalar.”
“I know it! I don’t know how she remembers it all.”
“They went out this morning and came back with basketfuls. All kinds. Even tiny yellow threads of plants. Now she’s explaining how to prepare them,” Markeno said. “It’s a shame you are leaving, Jondalar. Tholie is going to miss Ayla. We’re all going to miss you both.”
“It’s not easy to go, but …”
“I know. Thonolan. That reminds me. I want to give you something,” Markeno said, rummaging through a wooden box filled with various tools and implements made of wood, bone, and horn.
He pulled out an odd-looking object made of the primary branch of an antler, with the tines cut away and a hole just below the fork where they had joined. It was carved with decorations, but not the geometric and stylized forms of birds and fish typical of the Sharamudoi. Instead, very beautiful and lifelike animals, deer and ibex, were inscribed around the handle. Something about it gave Jondalar a chill. When he looked closer, it became a chill of recognition.
“This is Thonolan’s spear-shaft straightener!” he said. How many times had he watched his brother use that tool, he thought. He even remembered when Thonolan got it.
“I thought you might want it, to remember him. And I thought, maybe it would be helpful when you search for his spirit. Besides, when you put him … his spirit … to rest, he might want to have it,” Markeno said.
“Thank you, Markeno,” Jondalar said, taking the sturdy tool and examining it with wonder and reverence. It had been so much a part of his brother, it brought back flashes of memory. “This means a lot to me.” He hefted it, shifted it for balance, feeling in its weight the presence of Thonolan. “I think you might be right. There is so much of him in this, I can almost feel him.”
“I have something to give Ayla, and this seems to be the time for it,” Roshario said, going out. Jondalar joined her.
Ayla and Tholie looked up quickly when they entered Roshario’s dwelling, and for a moment the woman had the strange feeling that they were intruding on something personal or secret, but smiles of welcome dispelled it. She walked to the back and took a package off a shelf.
“This is for you, Ayla,” Roshario said, “for helping me. I wrapped it so it would stay clean on your Journey. You can always use the wrapping for a towel, later.”
Ayla, looking surprised and pleased, untied the cord and unfolded soft chamois skins to reveal more of the yellow leather, beautifully decorated with beads and quills. She lifted it up and caught her breath. It was the most beautiful tunic she had ever seen. Folded under it was a pair of women’s trousers, fully decorated on the front of the legs and around the bottom in a pattern matching the tunic.
“Roshario! This is beautiful. I have never seen anything so beautiful. It’s too beautiful to wear,” Ayla said. Then she put the garments down and hugged the woman. For the first time since she arrived, Roshario noticed Ayla’s strange accent, particularly in the way she said certain words, but she didn’t find it unpleasant.
“I hope it fits. Why don’t you try it on so we can see?” Roshario said.
“Do you really think I should?” Ayla said, almost afraid to touch it.
“You have to know if it will fit, so you can wear it when you and Jondalar are mated, don’t you?”
Ayla smiled at Jondalar, excited and happy about the outfit, but she refrained from mentioning that she already had a mating tunic, given to her by Talut’s mate, Nezzie of the Lion Camp. She couldn’t exactly wear both of them, but she would find a very special occasion for the beautiful new outfit.
“I have something for you, too, Ayla. Not nearly as beautiful, but useful,” Tholie said, giving her a handful of soft leather straps that she had tucked away in a pouch that dangled from her waist.
Ayla held them up and avoided looking at Jondalar. She knew exactly what they were. “How did you know I needed fresh straps for my moon time, Tholie?”
“A woman can always use some new ones, especially when she’s traveling. I have some nice absorbent padding for you, too. Roshario and I talked about it. She showed me the outfit she had made for you, and I wanted to give you something beautiful, too, but you can’t take much with you when you travel. So I started to think about what you might need,” Tholie said, explaining her very practical gift.
“It’s perfect. You couldn’t have given me something I needed, or wanted, more. You are so thoughtful, Tholie,” Ayla said, then turned her head and blinked her eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Come now, you’re not leaving yet. Not until tomorrow morning. There’s plenty of time for tears then,” Roshario said, though her own eyes threatened to overflow.
That evening, Ayla emptied both her pack baskets and had everything she wanted to take with her spread out, trying to decide how to pack it all, including the quantities of food they had been given. Jondalar would take some of it, but he didn’t have much room, either. They had discussed the bowl boat several times, trying to decide if its usefulness in crossing rivers was worth the effort it would take to move it across the wooded mountain slopes. They finally decided to take it, but not without misgivings.
“How are you going to fit all that in only two baskets?” Jondalar asked, looking at a pile of mysterious bundles and packages, all carefully wrapped, and worried about taking too much. “Are you sure you need it all? What’s in that package?”
“Hhmmm!” he grunted, not able to fault her reasoning, but still concerned about the load. He scanned the pile and noticed a package that he knew he had seen before. She’d been carrying it since they left, but he still didn’t know what was in it. “What’s that one?”
“Jondalar, you’re not being much help,” Ayla said. “Why don’t you take these squares of traveling food Carolio gave us and see if you can find room in your pack basket for them?”
“Easy, Racer. Settle down,” Jondalar said, pulling down on the lead rope and holding it in close while he patted the stallion’s cheek and stroked his neck, trying to calm him. “I think he knows we’re ready and he’s eager to go.”
“I’m sure Ayla will be along soon,” Markeno said. “Those two have become very close in the short time you’ve been here. Tholie was crying last night, wishing you would stay. To tell you the truth, I’m sorry to see you go, too. We looked around, and we talked to several people, but we just hadn’t found anyone we wanted to share with, until you came. We do need to make a commitment soon. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
“You don’t know how hard this decision has been for me, Markeno. Who knows what I’ll find when I get there. My sister will be grown up and probably won’t remember me. I have no idea what my older brother will be doing, or where he’ll be. I just hope my mother is still alive,” Jondalar said, “and Dalanar, the man of my hearth. My close-cousin, the daughter of his second hearth, ought to be a mother by now, but I don’t even know if she has a mate. If she has, I probably won’t know him. I really won’t know anyone anymore, and I feel so close to everyone here. But I have to go.”
Markeno nodded. Whinney nickered softly, and they both looked up. Roshario, Ayla, and Tholie, who was holding Shamio, were coming out of his dwelling. The little girl struggled to get down when she saw Wolf.