by Jean M. Auel
'It will be someone else's turn next,' she said.
'That water is cold,' he said.
'And so are your hands,' she said, reaching for them. 'I should warm them up,' she added, the hint of suggestion in her voice.
He looked at her with glowing eyes, his pupils enlarged with desire, and the dim light inside the dwelling.
Chapter 12
Jondalar enjoyed watching Jonayla, whatever she was doing, whether it was nursing or playing with her feet or putting things in her mouth. He even liked to look at her when she was sleeping. Now he gazed at her trying to resist falling to sleep. She would start to let go of her mother's nipple, then suckle a few more times and hold on for a moment, then begin to let go, and repeat the process. Finally she lay quietly in her mother's arms. He was fascinated as a drop of milk formed at the end of the nipple and fell.
'I think she's asleep,' he said, softly.
'Yes, I think so,' Ayla said. She had packed the baby in clean mouflon wool, which she had washed a few days before, and wrapped her up in her usual swaddling night clothes. The woman stood up and gently carried her infant to a nearby small sleeping roll. Ayla didn't always move Jonayla out of her bed when she went to sleep, but on this night she definitely wanted their sleeping roll for just Jondalar and her.
When she went back, the man who was waiting watched her as she slipped back into her place beside him; she looked directly at him, which still took some conscious thought for her. Jondalar had taught her that among his people, and most of his kind — and hers — it was considered impolite, if not devious, if you didn't look directly at the person to whom you were speaking.
While Ayla was looking at him, she started thinking about how other people saw this man she loved, how he appeared, his physical look. What was it about him that drew people to him before he even said a word? He was tall, with yellow hair lighter than hers, and he was strong and well made, with good proportions for his height. Though she couldn't see the colour in the dim light of the shelter, she knew that his eyes, which always caught people's attention, matched the extraordinary blue of glacier water and the ice of its depths. She had seen both. He was intelligent and skilled in making things, like the flint tools he crafted, but more than that, she knew he had a quality, a charm, a charisma that attracted most people, but especially women. Zelandoni had been known to say that not even the Mother could refuse him if he asked.
He didn't quite know he had it — it was an unconscious appeal — but he did tend to take for granted that he would always be welcomed. Though it wasn't something he used on purpose, exactly, he knew he had an effect on people and benefited from it. Even his long Journey had not disabused him of the notion, or changed his perception that wherever he went, people would accept him, approve of him, like him. He had never really had to explain himself or find out how to fit in, and he never learned how to ask for pardon for doing something inappropriate or unacceptable.
If he seemed contrite or acted sorry — feelings that were usually genuine — people tended to accept that. Even when he was a young man and had beat Ladroman so badly that he knocked out his permanent front teeth, Jondalar didn't have to find the words to say he was sorry, then face him, and say them. His mother paid a heavy compensation for him, and he was sent away to live with Dalanar, the man of his hearth, for a few years, but he didn't have to do anything himself to make amends. He didn't have to beg forgiveness, or even say he was sorry for doing something wrong and injuring the other boy.
Though to most people he was considered an amazingly handsome, masculine man, Ayla thought of him in a somewhat different way. Men of the people who raised her, men of the Clan, had features that were more rugged, with large round eye sockets, generous noses, and pronounced brow ridges. From the first moment she saw him, unconscious, almost dead, after being attacked by her lion, the man had aroused an unconscious memory of people she hadn't seen in many years, a memory of people like herself. To Ayla, Jondalar's features were not as strong as those of the men with whom she had grown up, but they were so perfectly shaped and arranged, she thought that he was incredibly beautiful, like a fine-looking animal, a healthy young horse or lion. Jondalar had explained to her that it was not a word usually used to describe men, but though she didn't say it often, she did think he was beautiful.
He looked at her as he lay beside her, then bent his head to kiss her. He felt the softness of her lips and slowly moved his tongue between them, which she obligingly opened. He felt a tightening of his loins again.
'Ayla, you are so beautiful, and I am so lucky,' he said.
'I am so lucky,' she said. 'And you are beautiful.'
He smiled. She knew it wasn't quite the word to use, though she used 'beautiful' correctly in all other instances. Now, when she said it to him in private, he just smiled. She hadn't closed the ties at the top of the opening of her tunic, though her breast had slipped back inside. He reached in and pulled it out again, the same one she had just used to nurse, and ran his tongue around the nipple, then suckled on it, tasting her milk.
'It feels different inside me when you do it,' she said softly. 'I like it when Jonayla nurses, but it doesn't feel the same. You make me want you to touch me in other places.'
'You make me want to touch you in those places.'
He undid all the ties and opened her tunic wide, exposing both breasts. When he suckled her again, her other nipple dribbled milk, and he reached over to lick that one.
'I'm coming to like the taste of your milk, but I don't want to take what belongs to Jonayla.'
'By the time she's hungry again, more milk will be there.'
He let go of the nipple and ran his tongue up to her neck and then kissed her again, this time more fiercely, and felt a need so strong he wasn't sure he could control it. He stopped and buried his face in her neck, trying to regain his composure. She began tugging on his tunic to pull it over his head.
'It's been a while,' he said, sitting up on his knees. 'I can't believe how ready I am.'
'Are you?' she said, with a teasing grin.
'I'll show you,' he said.
He stripped off his tunic with a two-handed pull over his head, then standing, untied the drawstring around his waist and pulled off his short-legged trousers. Under those he wore a protective pouch that covered his man parts, tied on around his hips with thin strips of leather. Usually made of chamois or rabbit or some other soft skin, the thong pouches tended to be worn only in summer. If the weather became very warm or a man was working especially hard, he could strip down to just that and still feel protected. Jondalar's pouch was bulging with the member it contained. He slipped the thongs down, releasing his straining manhood.
Ayla looked up at him, a slow smile showing her response. There was a time when the size of his member had frightened women, before they knew with what care and gentleness he used it. His first time with Ayla he was afraid she might be nervous, before they both understood how suited they were to each other. Sometimes Jondalar really couldn't believe how lucky he was. Whenever he wanted her, she was ready for him. She never acted coy or disinterested. It was as if she always wanted him as much as he wanted her. He responded with a grin of such happiness and delight that in response her smile grew into the glorious manifestation that transformed her in his eyes, and those of most men, into a woman of unsurpassing beauty.
The fire in their small hearth was burning down, not yet out, but not giving much light or heat. It didn't matter. He dropped down beside her and began to remove her clothing, first the long tunic, stopping to suck on her nipples again, before untying the thongs around her waist holding up her half-leggings. He loosened the waist ties, and pulled the leggings down, running his tongue down her stomach, dipping into her navel, then pulling them down more, uncovering her pubic hair. When the top of her slit showed, he dipped his tongue there, savouring her familiar taste and searching for the small knob. She made a small squeal of pleasure when he found it.
He pulled off her le
ggings, and bent down to kiss her again, then tasted milk and worked his way down and tasted her essence again. He spread her legs, opened her lovely petals, then found her swelling nodule. He knew just how to stimulate her; he suckled it and worked it with his tongue while he put his fingers inside her and found other places that stirred her senses.
She cried out, feeling jolts of fire rising through her. Almost too soon he felt a spurt of fluid, tasted her, and his urge to let himself go was so strong, he very nearly couldn't hold back. He raised up, found her opening with his swollen manhood, and pushed in, grateful that he didn't have to fear that he would hurt her, that she could take him all, that he fit so well.
She cried out again, and again each time he pulled out and moved in. And then he was there. With a groaning shout that he seldom expressed when others were around, he reached an intensely powerful peak and surged into her. As she heard his cries, she felt herself matching his movements, not even hearing her own sounds as the waves of sensation, matching his, flooded over her. She arched her back, pushing into him as he pushed against her. They held for a moment, shaking with the convulsions, pushing against each other as though trying to get inside each other and become one, and then they dropped down, panting to catch their breaths. He lay on top of her, the way she liked it, until he thought he must be too heavy on her and rolled over.
'I'm sorry it was so fast,' he said.
'I'm not. I was just as ready as you were, maybe more.'
They lay together for a while, then she said, 'I'd like to take a quick dip in the stream.'
'You and your cold-water baths. Do you have any idea how cold that water is? Remember when we stayed with the Losadunai on our Journey here? The hot water that came out of the ground, and the wonderful hot baths they built?' Jondalar said.
'They were wonderful, but cold water makes you feel fresh and tingly. I don't mind cold water baths,' she said.
'And I've become accustomed to them. All right. Let's build up the fire so it's warm when we come back, and go take a cold wash, a quick cold wash.'
When glaciers covered the land not far to the north, even at the height of summer the evenings could be cool at latitudes midway between the pole and the equator. They took with them the soft chamois drying skins that had been given to them by their Sharamudoi friends on their Journey, and wrapping themselves in them, ran out to the stream, downriver of their usual water source, but not as far down as the waste basket washing place.
'This water is cold!' Jondalar protested when they ran in.
'Yes, it is,' Ayla said, crouching down so that the water reached her neck and covered her shoulders. She splashed cold water on her face, then used her hands to rub herself all over under the water. She ran out, picked up the chamois towel and wrapped it around herself, and dashed toward their shelter. Jondalar was close on her heels. They hovered over the fire and dried off quickly, then hung the wet skins on a peg. They crawled into their sleeping roll and cuddled close to get warm.
Once they felt comfortable again, he whispered in her ear, 'If we go slowly, do you think you can be ready again?'
'I think so, if you can.'
Jondalar kissed her, searching with his tongue to open her mouth and she responded in kind. This time, he didn't want to rush it. He wanted to linger over her, explore her body, find all the special places that gave her pleasure, and let her find his. He ran his hand down her arm and felt her cool skin that was beginning to warm, then caressed her breast, feeling the contracted, hardened nipple in his palm. He manipulated it between his thumb and finger, then ducked his head under the cover to take it in his mouth.
There was a noise outside. They both lifted their heads above the covers to listen. There were voices, coming closer, and then the flap over the entry was pushed aside as people walked in. They both lay still listening. If everyone went right to bed, they could continue their new explorations. Neither one of them felt entirely comfortable sharing Pleasures while other people were sitting nearby fully awake and talking, although some people didn't seem to mind. It wasn't all that unusual, Jondalar realised, and tried to remember what he did when he was younger.
He knew they had grown used to seclusion when they spent a year travelling alone together to his home, but he thought that he was always a man who liked his privacy, even when Zolena was teaching him. Especially when the teaching became more than a donii-woman and her young charge, when they actually became lovers, and he wanted her to be his mate. Then he recognised her voice along with that of his mother and Willamar. The First had come with them to the camp of the Ninth Cave.
'Let me get some water heating for tea,' Marthona said. 'We can get a light from Jondalar's hearth.'
'She knows we're awake,' Jondalar whispered to Ayla. 'I think we're going to have to get up.'
'I think you're right,' Ayla said.
'I'll bring you some fire, mother,' Jondalar said, pushing the covers back and reaching for his pouch thong.
'Oh, did we wake you?' Marthona said.
'No, mother,' he said. 'You didn't wake us.' He got up and found a long, thin piece of kindling and held it to the fire until it caught, then brought the fire to the main hearth in the shelter.
'Why don't you have some tea with us,' his mother said.
'I guess we might as well,' he said. He knew that they were all fully aware that they had interrupted the young couple.
'I've been wanting to talk to both of you anyway,' Zelandoni said.
'Let me go back and put some warmer clothes on,' he said.
Ayla had already dressed herself when Jondalar got back to their small sleeping area. He quickly put on his clothing and both of them went to the main hearth, carrying their personal drinking cups.
'Someone filled up the waterbag,' Willamar said. 'I think you saved me the trouble, Jondalar.'
'Ayla noticed it was empty.'
'I saw Wolf and your horses out back of the dwelling, Ayla,' Willamar said.
'No one was in camp all day, and a snow leopard tried to get Grey. Whinney and Racer fought him off and killed him, but they broke out of the surround,' Jondalar said.
'Wolf found them way in the back of this meadow, near the cliffs and a small stream. It must have been terrible for them. They were even afraid of him and us at first,' Ayla said.
'And they wouldn't go anywhere near the surround, so we brought them here,' Jondalar said.
'Wolf is watching them now, but we'll have to find some other place to keep the horses,' Ayla said. 'I was going to find someplace to get rid of that snow leopard carcass tomorrow, and give away the wood from the surround. It would make good firewood.'
'There are some good planks on that surround. It's good for more than firewood,' Willamar said.
'You can have it all, Willamar. I don't even want to see it again,' Ayla said, with a shudder.
'Yes, why don't you decide what to do with that wood, Willamar. There are some good pieces,' Jondalar said, thinking to himself that the snow leopard had scared Ayla even more than it did the horses. It made her angry, too. She'd probably burn the surround herself just to get rid of it.
'How do you know it was a snow leopard? They are not usually found around here,' Willamar said, 'and never in summer, that I can remember.'
'When we got to the enclosure, we found the remains of the leopard, but no sign of the horses,' Jondalar said. 'Ayla found a long fluffy tail of greyish white fur with dark spots and recognised it as belonging to a snow leopard.'
'Sounds right to me,' Willamar said. 'but snow leopards like the highlands and mountains, and go after ibex, chamois, and mouflon, not usually horses.'
'Ayla said she thought it was a young one, possibly male,' Jondalar said.
'Maybe the mountain feeders are coming down early this year,' Marthona said. 'If that is true, it could mean a short summer.'
'We'd better tell Joharran. It might be wise to plan some major hunts soon, and lay in a good store of meat early. A short summer can mean a long, cold winte
r,' Willamar said.
'And we'd better pick all we can of whatever ripens before any cold weather comes,' Marthona said. 'Even before it ripens, if necessary. I remember one year many years ago when we collected very little fruit, and had to dig roots out of almost frozen ground.'
'I remember that year,' Willamar said. 'I think it was before Joconan was leader.'
'That's right. We weren't even mated yet, but we were interested,' Marthona said. 'If I remember correctly, there were several bad years around that time.'
The First had no recollection of the event. She was probably a very young child, at the time. 'What did people do?' she asked.
'At first, I don't think anyone believed the summer could be over so fast,' Willamar said. 'And then everybody started hurrying to lay in food for the winter. It was good that they did. It turned out to be a long cold season.'
'People should be warned,' the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother said.
'How can you be sure it means a short summer? It's just one snow leopard.' Jondalar said.
Ayla was thinking the same thing, but didn't say anything.
'No one has to be sure,' Marthona said. 'If people dry extra meat or berries, or store more roots or nuts early, and it doesn't turn cold, it won't hurt anything. It will get used up later. But if we don't have enough, people could go hungry, or worse.'
'I told you I wanted to talk to you, Ayla. I've been thinking about when we should start your Donier Tour. I wasn't sure if we should go early, or wait until the end of summer, maybe even after the Second Matrimonial. Now I think we should start as soon as we can. We can warn people of the possibility of a short season at the same time,' the First said. 'I'm sure the Fourteenth would be more than happy to conduct the Late Matrimonial. I don't think there will be many couples anyway. Just the few who may meet and decide this summer. I know of two couples who aren't sure if they want to mate yet, and one whose Caves are slow in coming to agreements. Do you think you can be ready to go in a few days?'