The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  About a mile and a half away, and across The River, they could see the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, the largest and most unusual cliff in the region. Though north-facing sites were seldom utilized as living places, this one on the south side of The River was too inviting to be ignored. The cliff face, a half mile in length, rose vertically two hundred fifty feet from The River in five levels and held nearly a hundred caves and cavities, plus overhanging rock shelters and terraces.

  Grand views of the valley could be seen from all the terraces, so a specific shelter or cave to use as a lookout was not needed. But the cliff did offer a different, unique view. In one section of a lower terrace that projected over a quiet backwater of the moving stream, it was possible to look down and see one’s reflection in the still water.

  “It’s not named for its size, as you might think,” Jondalar said. “It’s named for that unusual view. It is called Reflection Rock.”

  The cliff was so huge that most of the possible living sites were not even occupied—it would have been as crowded as a marmot mound if they had been. The natural resources of the surrounding area would not have supported so many people. They would have depleted whole herds and stripped the landscape of vegetation. But the huge cliff was an exceptional place, and those who lived there knew that the mere sight of their home left strangers and first-time visitors gaping with awe.

  It could even dazzle those who were familiar with it, Jondalar realized as he looked at the extraordinary natural formation. The Ninth Cave, with its magnificent overhanging stone shelf sheltering a spacious and comfortable area, was certainly remarkable in its own right, and in most ways offered more livability—that it primarily faced south was a tremendous advantage—but he had to admit that the extensive and imposing cliff ahead was impressive.

  But the people who were standing on the lowest-level terrace were feeling a touch of awe themselves at the sight that was approaching them. The welcoming gesture of the woman who was standing somewhat ahead of the others was more tentative than usual. She was holding her hand up with her palm facing her, but her beckoning motion was not very vigorous. She had heard of the return of Marthona’s wandering second son and the foreign woman he brought back. She had even heard that they had horses and a wolf with them, but hearing it was not the same as seeing it, and seeing two horses walking calmly amid the people of the Ninth Cave, behind a wolf—a big wolf—a tall, blond, unfamiliar woman and the man she knew as Jondalar was unnerving, at the very least.

  Joharran looked aside to cover up a smile he couldn’t help making when he saw the woman’s expression, though he understood entirely how she felt. It wasn’t so long ago that he had experienced the same frisson of fear at the same uncanny sight. He was amazed, when he thought about it, how quickly he had gotten used to it. So quickly that he hadn’t anticipated the reaction of his neighbors, and he knew he should have. He was glad they had stopped. It gave him a hint of the effect they would very likely have on people when they reached the Summer Meeting.

  22

  “If Joharran hadn’t decided to set up the tent in the field, I think I would have stayed out anyway,” Ayla said. “I want to be close to Whinney and Racer while we’re traveling, and I didn’t want to bring them up on that cliff. They wouldn’t have liked it.”

  “I don’t think Denanna would have like it much, either,” Jondalar said. “She seemed exceptionally nervous around the animals.”

  They were riding upstream through the valley of the tributary called North River, giving the animals, and themselves, a break from the close association of so many people. They had gone through the formality of meeting all the leaders, and Ayla was still trying to sort them out. Denanna, who was the leader of Reflection Rock, the South Holding, was the acknowledged leader of the Twenty-ninth Cave, but Summer Camp and South Face, the West and North Holdings, also had leaders. Whenever there were decisions to make that concerned all of Three Rocks, the three leaders worked together to reach a consensus, but it was presented by Denanna, because the rest of the Zelandonii leaders insisted that if the Twenty-ninth Cave was going to call itself one Cave, they should have just one leader to speak for them.

  The zelandonia had a slightly different set of requirements. West, North, and South Holdings each had their own Zelandoni, but the Zelandonia of the three holdings were assistants to a fourth donier, who was the Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth. Because there was a great enough distance between the holdings, it was reasonable that each would want its own Zelandoni, and one who was a good healer, especially during the seasons of cold and stormy weather, but the primary relationship of any individual Zelandoni was to the zelandonia as a whole, although the Cave they served was of almost equal, and in some ways greater, importance.

  The Zelandoni of Reflection Rock was such a good healer that even women during childbirth were glad to have him assist. The Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth, who also lived at Reflection Rock to be close to the nominal leader, was not a particularly good healer, but she was a good mediator who could work diplomatically with the three other Zelandonia and the three leaders, and soothe the sometimes prickly feelings of all of them. Some people felt that if it were not for Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth, the whole complex arrangement called the Twenty-ninth Cave would not hold together.

  Ayla was happy to have the excuse of the horses needing care and attention to get away from the rest of the formal greetings, feasting, and other rituals. She had spoken to Joharran and Proleva before meeting their neighbors of the next Cave to the north, and told them it was essential for the well-being of Whinney and Racer that she and Jondalar tend to them. The leader said he would make their excuses, and the leader’s mate promised to save some food for them.

  Ayla was conscious of being watched while they unhitched the pole drags and removed the rest of the loads, and when she examined both horses carefully to make sure they had not sustained any injuries or developed any sores. They rubbed down and combed both animals, then Jondalar suggested that they take Whinney and Racer out and let them run after the day of slow and careful walking. Ayla’s beautiful smile of gratitude made him glad he had. Wolf leaped ahead when he saw them heading out; he seemed pleased, too.

  Joharran was among those who watched them with the horses. He had often seen them doing the same thing before, but this time he understood it as one more element of the care they required. Horses obviously didn’t need that kind of attention when they were living with their herds, but when they did the work that people wanted, perhaps they did. Yes, the potential benefit of using horses to help in various ways was there, but was it worth the amount of work they required? It was a question he was pondering while he watched Ayla and his brother ride off.

  Ayla felt herself relax almost as soon as they left. There was a sense of release, of freedom, to riding away by themselves. They had grown accustomed to traveling together with just the animals on their long Journey, and they both found respite in returning to their habit. When they reached North River Valley and saw the long open grassland ahead, they looked at each other simultaneously, grinned, then urged the horses on until they were galloping across the field full-tilt. They didn’t notice when they passed a couple of people returning to the Twenty-ninth Cave from a quick trip to the site of the Summer Meeting, but the people noticed them. They stared with mouths agape at a sight they had never seen before and weren’t sure they wanted to see again. People racing along on the backs of horses left them uneasy.

  Ayla stopped beside a small creek, Jondalar pulled up at the next step. With tacit agreement, they both turned and followed it. The source was a spring-fed pool with a large willow hovering over it, as though protecting its birthright of water for itself and its offspring: a collection of smaller willows crowding close to the large, overflowing basin. They dismounted, took the riding blankets off the horses, and spread them out on the ground.

  The horses drank from the creek, then both of them decided it was a good time for a roll.
The young couple couldn’t help laughing at the animals squirming on their backs with their legs in the air, feeling comfortable and safe enough to enjoy a good back scratch.

  Suddenly Ayla reached for the sling wrapped around her head, unwrapped it quickly, and glanced down toward the pool for stones. She grabbed a couple of rounded pebbles, fit one into the pocket of the hurling weapon, and let fly. Without looking, she grabbed the leather strap again, pulled it through her hand to the end, brought both ends together, and had another stone ready to go just as a second bird was taking to the air. She brought it down, then went to retrieve her two willow ptarmigan.

  “If it was just the two of us, and we were going to set up camp here, we’d have our evening meal,” Ayla said, holding up her trophies.

  “But it’s not just the two of us, so what are you going to do with them?” Jondalar said.

  “Well, the feathers of ptarmigan are the warmest and lightest, and the feather markings are rather nice this time of year. I could make something for the baby,” she said. “But I’ll have time to make baby things later. I think I’ll give these to Denanna. After all, this is their territory, and she seems so anxious about Whinney and Racer, and Wolf, that I think she wishes we hadn’t come. Maybe a gift will make her feel better.”

  “Where did you learn to be so wise, Ayla?” Jondalar said, looking at her with love and warmth.

  “That’s not wisdom, that’s just sense, Jondalar.” She looked up and felt herself become lost in the magic of his eyes. The only place she had ever seen such a rich blue color was in the deep pools of glaciers, but his eyes were not icy. They were warm and full of love.

  He put his arms around her, and she dropped the brace of birds to reach up and kiss him. It seemed like a long time since he had held her like this, then she realized it had been a long time. Not since he had kissed her, but since they had been alone in an open field, with the horses grazing contentedly and Wolf poking his inquiring nose into every bush and hole in the ground, and no one else around. Soon they would have to go back and continue the trek to the Summer Meeting, and who knew when they would have a moment like this again? When Jondalar began nuzzling her neck, Ayla responded eagerly.

  His warm breath and moist tongue sent shivers through her and she gave herself to them, letting the sensation overcome her. He blew in her ear and nibbled her lobe, then pulled his hands forward to hold the fullness of her breasts. Even more full now, he thought, reminding him that she was carrying new life inside her, new life that she said was as much his as hers. At the least, the life had to be of his spirit, of that he felt sure. For most of their Journey, he had been the only man around for the Mother to take an elan from.

  She untied her waist thong, from which hung various objects and pouches that were secured by loops or strings, and laid it down beside the riding blanket, making sure all the things that were attached to it stayed in place. He sat down on the edge of the leather covering that smelled strongly, though not unpleasantly, of horse. It was a smell he was used to and that carried with it enjoyable associations. Quickly, he began untying and unwrapping the thongs of his foot coverings from around his legs, then stood up and untied the waistband that held closed the overlapping front of his leggings and pulled them off.

  When he looked up, Ayla had done the same. He looked at her and liked what he saw. Her shape was more full, not only her breasts, but her stomach, which was rounder, starting to show the new life growing. He felt his manhood respond, snatched off his tunic, then helped Ayla with hers. He felt a cool breeze on his bare skin, saw chill bumps raise on hers, and took her in his arms, feeling her warmth and trying to keep her that way.

  “I’m going to wash in the pool,” she said.

  He smiled, feeling that it was an invitation for him to Pleasure her the way he liked. “You don’t have to,” he said.

  “I know, but I want to. All the walking and climbing made me sweaty,” she said, walking toward the pond.

  It was cold, but she usually washed in cold water and found the chill, tingling sensation stimulating, most of the time. In the mornings, it woke her up. It was a shallow pond except for the end near the spring. There, she found it dropped off quickly until her feet no longer touched the rocky, silty bottom. She treaded water, moving out of the deep part and back toward the stony bank.

  Jondalar followed her in, though he liked cold water far less than she did. He was up to his thighs, and when she got close, he splashed her. She squealed and sloshed the water around, roiling it up, and with both hands splashed a wave toward him that caught him in the face and soaked him from the shoulders down.

  “I wasn’t ready for that,” he said, sputtering with a sudden shiver, and slapped the water back at her. The horses looked up at the commotion they were making in the water. She grinned at him, he reached for her, and the noisy water play stopped as they stood together with arms entwined and lips pressed together.

  “Maybe I should help you wash,” he murmured in her ear as he reached between her legs and felt himself respond.

  “Maybe I should help you,” she said, reaching for his hard erect member, and with the water, she rubbed her hand up and down, exposing the head from the foreskin. The cold liquid ought to have cooled his ardor, he thought, but her cool hand on his warm organ was strangely, intensely stimulating. Then she knelt down and when she took the head of his manhood in her mouth, it felt hot. He moaned as she moved back and forth, working her tongue around the head, and he felt such urgency, it caught him by surprise. Suddenly, before he could control it, he felt his ardor rise and burst forth as waves of release washed through him.

  He pushed her back. “Let’s get out of this cold water,” he said. She spit out his essence and rinsed her mouth, then smiled at him. Taking her hand, he led her out. When they reached the riding blanket, they sat down, then he pushed her back and lay down beside her, raising up on an arm to look at her. “You caught me by surprise,” he said, feeling relaxed but slightly flustered. It had not turned out the way he had planned.

  She smiled; it wasn’t often that he gave up his essence so quickly, he was always the one who liked to maintain control. Her smile turned to a grin of delight. “You must have been more ready than you thought,” she said.

  “You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself,” he said.

  “It’s not often that I can surprise you,” she said. “You are the one who knows me so well, it surprises me, and always makes me feel so Pleasured.”

  He couldn’t help but smile back at her delight. He leaned over to kiss her, and she opened her mouth slightly, welcoming him. He enjoyed touching her, holding her, kissing her, in any case. He probed inside her mouth, gently, tentatively, and she did the same. Then he felt just the hint of an urge start to rise again and felt pleased. He might not be entirely spent yet, and there was no hurry to get back.

  He spent time just kissing her, then running his tongue over her lips. He found her neck and her throat, nibbling and kissing them. It tickled and she had to restrain herself to keep from moving aside. She was already stimulated, and holding herself still added to the experience. When he started to move lower, kissing her shoulder and her inner arm all the way to the elbow, she could hardly stand it and wanted more at the same time. Without her realizing it, her breathing increased, which encouraged him. Then, suddenly, he took a nipple in his mouth, and she gasped as streaks of fire flashed inside to her inner place.

  His manhood was growing again. He felt the roundness of her breast, then took the contracted, upright nipple of her other breast in his mouth and suckled hard. He reached for the first nipple with his hand, squeezing and manipulating it between his fingers. She pushed against him, feeling the intensity and wanting more. She did not hear the breeze in the willows or feel the coolness of the air, her entire attention was focused inside, on the sensations he caused her to feel.

  He, too, was feeling the heat rise inside himself and his tumescent manhood. He moved lower, settled himself between
her thighs, and, opening her folds, bent down for his first sample. She was still wet from the water, and he reveled in the cold and the wet and the warmth and the salt and the familiar taste of Ayla, his Ayla. He wanted all of her, all at once, and reached up for her nipples as he found her hard, pulsing nodule.

  She moaned and cried out, arching up to him as he suckled and manipulated her with his tongue. She was not thinking, just feeling. Then, before she knew it, she was there, feeling the surge grow and expand until suddenly it washed over her, as he felt the wetness. Then she was reaching for him, making little cries of need, wanting to feel him inside her. He rose up, found her opening, and pushed himself in, then pulled his manhood out and pushed in again.

  She was meeting him, pushing closer and pulling back, arching and turning her body to feel him just where she needed him. His urge was there, but not quite as demanding as it sometimes was. Rather than having to control, he just let it build, rocking with her, moving with her, feeling the tension grow, plunging deeply with joy and abandon. She was calling out, and her wordless sounds gained in pitch and intensity. Then it reached the peak, and with words and sounds increasing they felt a great release swell up and gush forth. They held for a moment, then pushed in and pulled out a few more times, and lay still, panting to catch their breath.

  As she lay there with her eyes closed, Ayla heard the wind soughing through the trees and a bird calling to its mate, felt the cool breeze and the delicious feeling of his weight on her, smelled horse from the blanket, and the scent of their Pleasures, and remembered the taste of his skin and his kisses. When he finally pulled himself up and looked at her, she was smiling, a dreamy, half-dozing, warm smile of contentment.

  When they finally got up, Ayla went back into the pond to clean herself as Iza had taught her long ago. Jondalar did, too. It seemed to him that if she did, he ought to, though it hadn’t been his habit until he met her. He really didn’t like cold water. As he was rinsing off, however, he thought if there were many more days like today, he could learn to like it.