The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “Oh, Jondalar. What will I do without Whinney? She’s my friend. For a long time, she was my only friend,” Ayla said, giving in to the logic of his argument, but breaking down into tears.

  The man held her and let her cry for a moment, then said, “Right now, we need to see if Racer is gone, too, and find Wolf.”

  Ayla suddenly remembered hearing the wolf yelp in pain, and she grew concerned for him and for the young stallion. She whistled once for Wolf, and then she made the sound she used to call the horses.

  They heard a whinny first, and then a whine. Jondalar went to find Racer, while Ayla followed the sound of the wolf in pain until she found him. She reached down to comfort the animal and felt something wet and sticky.

  “Wolf! You’re hurt.” She tried to pick him up to carry him to the fireplace, where she could restart the fire and see. He yelped in pain as she staggered under his weight. Then he struggled out of her arms, but stayed up on his own legs, and though she knew it cost him some effort, he walked back to their camp on his own.

  Jondalar also returned to the camp, leading Racer, while Ayla was stirring up the fire. “His rope held,” the man announced. He had gotten into the habit of using sturdy ropes to hold the stallion, who had always been a little harder for him to handle than Whinney was for Ayla.

  “I’m so glad he’s safe,” the woman said, hugging the stallion’s neck, then stepping back to look him over more closely, just to make sure. “Why didn’t I use a stronger rope, Jondalar?” Ayla said, angry with herself. “If I had been more careful, Whinney wouldn’t have gotten away.” Her relationship with the mare was closer. Whinney was a friend, who did what she wanted because the horse wanted to, and Ayla only used a light tether to keep the horse from wandering too far afield. It had always been enough.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Ayla. The herd wasn’t after Racer. They wanted a mare, not a stallion. Whinney wouldn’t have gone if the horses hadn’t made her go.”

  “But I knew those horses were out there, and I should have realized they might come for Whinney. Now she’s gone, and even Wolf is hurt.”

  “Is it very bad?” Jondalar asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ayla said. “It hurts him too much when I touch him to be certain, but I think his rib is either badly bruised or broken. He must have gotten kicked. I’ll give him something for pain, and I’ll try to find out for sure in the morning … before we look for Whinney.” Suddenly she reached out for the man. “Oh, Jondalar, what if we don’t find her? What if I’ve lost her forever?” she cried.

  25

  “Look, Ayla,” Jondalar said, bending down on one knee to examine the ground that was covered with the imprint of horse hooves. “The whole herd must have been here last night. The trail is clear. I told you it would be easy to track them once it got light.”

  Ayla looked down at the tracks, then up toward the northeast in the direction they seemed to be heading. They were near the edge of the small woods, and she could see far into the distance across the open grassy plain, but as hard as she tried, she could not see a single horse. She found herself thinking, The tracks are plain enough here, but who knows how long we will be able to follow them?

  The young woman had not slept at all after she had been awakened by the commotion and discovered that her beloved friend was gone. The moment the sky lightened, shading from ebony to indigo, she was up, though it was still too dark to see any distinctive features on the land. She had stirred up the fire and started water boiling for tea while the heavens transformed, shifting through a monochromatic spectrum of gradually paler shades of blue.

  Wolf had crept near her while she was staring into the flames, but he had to whine to get her attention. She had taken the opportunity to examine him closely. Though he had winced when she prodded deeply, she was grateful to find no broken bones. A bruise was bad enough. Jondalar had gotten up soon after the morning tea was ready, still well before it was light enough to search for signs.

  “Let’s hurry and leave right away, so they don’t get too far ahead of us,” Ayla said. “We can pile everything into the bowl boat and … no … we can’t do that.” She suddenly realized that, without the mare she wanted to find, they couldn’t just pack up and go. “Racer doesn’t know how to pull the pole drag, so we can’t take it or the bowl boat. We can’t even take Whinney’s pack-saddle basket.”

  “And if we’re going to have any chance to catch up with that herd, we’ll have to ride double on Racer. That means we can’t even take his pack-saddle. We’ll have to cut our load down to bare necessities,” Jondalar said.

  They stopped to digest the new situation the loss of Whinney had put them in. Both of them realized there were some hard decisions to make.

  “If we take just the sleeping rolls and the ground cover, which could be used as a low tent, and roll them up together, that should fit on Racer’s back behind us,” Jondalar suggested.

  “A low tent should be enough,” Ayla agreed. “That’s all we ever took when we went with the hunters of our clan. We used a stick to prop up the front, and rocks or heavy bones that we found to weigh it down around the edges.” She began to remember the times that she and several women accompanied the men when they went hunting. “The women had to carry everything except the hunting spears, and we had to move fast to keep up, so we traveled light.”

  “What else did you take? How light do you think we can travel?” Jondalar asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “We’ll need the fire-making kit and some tools. A chopper to cut wood to burn, and to break up the bones of any animals we might need to butcher. We can burn dried dung and grass, too, but we should have something to cut the stems. A knife to skin animals, and a sharp one to cut meat,” she began. Ayla was remembering not only the times that she accompanied the hunters, but the time she traveled alone after she left the clan.

  “I’ll wear my belt with the loops for holding my axe, and my ivory-handled knife,” Jondalar said. “You should wear yours, too.”

  “A digging stick is always a help, and it can be used to prop up the tent. Some extra warm clothes in case it turns really cold and extra foot-coverings,” the woman continued.

  “An extra pair of boot liners. That’s a good idea. Under tunics and pants, fur mitts, and we can always wrap our sleeping furs around us, if we have to.”

  “A waterbag or two …”

  “We can tie those to our belts, too, and with enough cord to make a loop to go over the arm, we can wear them close to the body if it gets too cold, so they won’t freeze.”

  “I’ll need my medicine bag, and maybe I should take the sewing kit—it doesn’t take much room—and my sling.”

  “Don’t forget the spear-throwers and spears,” Jondalar added. “Do you think I should take any flint-knapping tools, or flint blanks, in case a knife or something breaks?”

  “Whatever we take, it should be no more than I can carry on my back … or could if I had a carrying basket.”

  “If anyone carries anything on his back, I think it should be me,” Jondalar said, “but I don’t have my backframe.”

  “I’m sure we can make a back-carrier of some kind, probably out of one of the pack-saddles and some rope or thong, but how can I sit behind you if you’re wearing it?” Ayla asked.

  “But I’m going to sit behind …” They looked at each other and smiled. They even had to decide how to ride, and both of them had made their own assumptions. It was the first time Ayla had smiled all morning, Jondalar noticed.

  “You have to guide Racer, so I have to be in back,” Ayla said.

  “I can guide him with you in front of me,” the man said, “but if you are behind you won’t be able to see anything but my back. I don’t think you’d be happy if you couldn’t see ahead, and we both need to be watching the trail. It may be harder to follow over hard ground or where there are other tracks to confuse it, and you are a good tracker.”

  Ayla’s smile widened. “You’re right, Jondalar. I don’t know if
I could stand it if I couldn’t see ahead.” She understood that he had been worrying about following the trail left by the horses, just as she had, and had even considered her feelings. Tears suddenly filled her eyes with the love she felt overflowing inside her, and then the tears overflowed to match.

  “Don’t cry, Ayla. We’ll find Whinney.”

  “I wasn’t crying about Whinney. I was thinking how much I love you, and the tears just came out.”

  “I love you, too,” he said, reaching for her, feeling a constriction in his own throat.

  Suddenly, she was in his arms, sobbing on his shoulder, and the tears that came were for Whinney as well. “Jondalar, we’ve got to find her.”

  “We will. We’ll just keep looking until we do. Now, how about fixing up a backpack for me. Something that can hold the spear-throwers and some spears on the outside, where they will be easy to reach.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll have to take dried traveling food, of course,” Ayla said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “How much do you think we’ll need?” he asked.

  “It depends. How long will we be gone?” she asked.

  The question stopped them both. How long would they be gone? How long would it take them to find Whinney and get her back?

  “It probably won’t take more than a few days to track the herd and find her, but perhaps we should take enough for half a moon cycle,” Jondalar said.

  Ayla paused, thinking of the counting words. “That’s more than ten days, maybe as much as three hands, fifteen days. Do you think it will take that long?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but it’s best to be prepared,” Jondalar said.

  “We can’t leave this camp alone for that long,” Ayla said. “Some kind of animal will come and tear it apart, wolves or hyenas or wolverines or bears … no, bears are sleeping, but something. They’ll chew up the tent, the bowl boat, anything leather, and the extra food. What will we do with everything we have to leave behind?”

  “Maybe Wolf could stay behind and watch the camp?” Jondalar said, wrinkling his forehead. “Wouldn’t he stay if you told him to? He’s hurt, anyway. Wouldn’t it be better for him not to travel?”

  “Yes, it would be better for him, but he won’t stay. He would for a while, but he’d come looking for us if we didn’t get back within a day or so.”

  “Maybe we could tie him close to the camp …”

  “No! He would hate that, Jondalar!” Ayla exclaimed. “You wouldn’t like to be made to stay someplace that you didn’t want to be! Besides, if wolves or something did come, they could attack him and he wouldn’t be able to fight, or run out of their way. We’ll just have to think of some other way to protect our things.”

  They walked back to their camp in silence, Jondalar a little chagrined and Ayla worried, but both of them still trying to resolve the problem of what to do with their gear while they were gone. As they approached the tent, Ayla remembered something.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “Maybe we could put everything in the tent and close it up. I still have some of that wolf repellent I made to keep Wolf from chewing on things. I could soften it up and spread it on the tent. That might keep some animals away.”

  “It might, for a while at least, until the rains washed it away, and that could take some time, but it wouldn’t keep out the ones that tried to dig or burrow under it.” Jondalar paused. “Why couldn’t we gather everything together and wrap it up with a tent? Then you could put your repellent on it … but we shouldn’t just leave it out.”

  “No, I think we have to get it up, off the ground, like we do with the meat,” Ayla said, then more excited, “Maybe we could put it up on the poles. And cover it with the bowl boat, to keep the rain away.”

  “That’s a good idea!” Jondalar said, then paused again. “But those poles could be knocked over by a cave lion, or even a determined pack of wolves or hyenas.” He looked around trying to think, and he noticed a large clump of brambles with long leafless canes full of sharp thorns spreading out from the middle. “Ayla,” he said, “do you think we could poke the three poles through the middle of those brambles, tie them together about halfway up, put our tent bundle on top of that, and cover it all with the bowl boat?”

  Ayla’s smiled broadened as he talked. “I think we could carefully cut some of those canes so we could get close enough to get the poles in and tied, and put everything on top, then weave them back in with the others. Small animals would still be able to get to it, but most of them are sleeping, or staying in their nests, and those sharp thorns would probably keep the bigger animals away. Even lions will avoid sharp thorns. Jondalar, I think it would work!”

  Selecting the few items they could take required thought and consideration. They decided to take a little extra flint and a few essential tools to work it with, some extra rope and cordage, and as much food as they could pack. In sorting through her things, Ayla located the special belt and the mammoth-tusk dagger that Talut had given to her at the ceremony when she was adopted by the Lion Camp. The belt had thin leather thongs threaded through it that could be pulled out into loops for carrying things, in particular the dagger, although the carrying belt could also be used to hold many other useful objects close at hand.

  She tied the belt around her hips, over her outer fur tunic, then took the dagger out and turned it over in her hands, wondering if she should take it. Though its point was very sharp, it was more ceremonial than practical. Mamut had used one like it to cut her arm, and then, with the blood he had drawn, to mark the ivory plaque that he had worn around his neck, counting her among the Mamutoi.

  She had also watched a similar dagger used to make tattoos, by cutting fine lines in the skin with the point. Black charcoal from ash wood was then put into the resulting wounds. She didn’t know that ash trees produced a natural antiseptic that inhibited infection, and it was unlikely that the Mamut who told her knew exactly why it worked. She only knew that it had been strongly impressed on her never to use anything but burned ash wood to darken the scar when making a tattoo.

  Ayla put the dagger back in its rawhide sheath and left it there. Then she picked up another leather sheath that protected the extremely sharp flint blade of a small ivory-handled knife Jondalar had made for her. She put it through a loop in her belt, and then she put the handle of the hatchet he had given her through yet another loop. The stone head of the small axe was also wrapped in leather to protect it.

  She decided that there was no reason the belt couldn’t hold her spear-thrower. Then she tucked her sling through it, and she finally tied on the pouch that held stones for her sling. She felt weighted down, but it was a convenient way to carry things when they had to travel with very little. She added her spears to the ones Jondalar had already put in the carrier of the backpack.

  It took longer than they had thought to decide what to take, and even more time to safely stow everything they were leaving behind. Ayla felt anxious over the delay, but by noon they were finally mounted and leaving.

  When they started out, Wolf loped along beside them, but he soon lagged behind, obviously in some pain. Ayla worried about him, not sure how far or how fast he could travel, but she decided she would have to let him follow at his own pace, and if he couldn’t keep up, he would have to catch up when they stopped. She was torn by concern for both animals, but Wolf was nearby and, though injured, she felt confident that he would recover. Whinney could be anywhere, and the longer they delayed, the farther away she might be.

  They followed the trail of the herd more or less northeast for some distance; then the tracks of the horses inexplicably changed direction. Ayla and Jondalar overshot the turn and thought for a moment that they had lost the trail. They turned back, but it was late afternoon by the time they found it again, going east, and it was near nightfall when they came to a river.

  It was evident that the horses had crossed, but it was getting too dark to see the hoofprints and they decided to camp
beside the river. The question was, which side? If they crossed now, their wet clothes would probably dry before morning, but Ayla was afraid Wolf would not be able to find them if they crossed the water before he caught up with them. They decided to wait for him and set up their camp where they were.

  With their minimal gear, the camp felt bare and depressing. They hadn’t seen anymore than tracks the whole day. Ayla was beginning to worry that they might be following the wrong herd, and she was worried about Wolf. Jondalar tried to ease her anxieties, but when Wolf hadn’t appeared by the time the night sky was filled with stars, her concern for him grew. She waited up quite late, but when Jondalar finally convinced her to join him in their sleeping furs, she still couldn’t go to sleep, though she was tired. She had almost dozed off when she felt a cold wet nose nuzzle her.

  “Wolf! You made it! You’re here! Jondalar, look! Wolf is here,” Ayla cried, feeling him wince under her hugs. Jondalar felt relieved and glad to see him, too, though he told himself his happiness was mostly for Ayla’s sake. At least she might get some sleep. But first she got up to give the animal the share she had saved for him of their meal, a stew made of dried meat, roots, and a cake of traveling food.

  Earlier, she had mixed dried willowbark tea into a bowl of water she had put aside for him, and he was thirsty enough to lap it up, painkilling medication and all. He curled up beside their sleeping roll and Ayla fell asleep with one arm around him, while Jondalar cuddled close and put an arm around her. In the freezing cold but clear night, they slept in their clothes, except for their boots and fur outer garments, and they didn’t bother with setting up the low tent.

  Ayla thought Wolf seemed better in the morning, but she took more willowbark out of her otter-skin medicine bag and added a cup of the decoction to his food. They all had to face crossing the cold river, and she wasn’t sure how it would affect the animal’s injury. It might chill him too much, but on the other hand, the cold water might actually relieve the healing wound, and the internal bruising.