The Plains of Passage Read online

  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 cold 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.

  "I'd like to coat that hide after it's mounted on the frame," he said.

  "If I boil up the hooves and scraps of hide and some bones together with water for a long time, it will make a very thick and sticky kind of broth, that dries hard. Do we have something that I can use to cook that in?"

  "I'm sure we can think of something. Does it have to cook long?"

  "Yes. It does need to cook down, to thicken."

  "Then it might be best to cook it directly over the fire, like a soup... maybe a piece of hide. We'll have to watch it, and keep adding water, but as long as it stays wet, it won't burn ... wait. What about the stomach of that aurochs? I've been keeping water in it, so it wouldn't dry out, and to have it handy for cooking and washing, but it would make a good cooking bag," Ayla said.

  "I don't think so," Jondalar said. "We don't want to keep adding water. We want it to get thick."

  "Then I suppose a good watertight basket and hot stones might be best. I can make one in the morning," Ayla said, but as she lay quietly, her mind wouldn't let her sleep. She kept thinking that there was a better way to boil down the mixture Jondalar wanted to make. She just could not quite think of it. She was nearly asleep when it came to her. "Jondalar! Now I remember."

  He, too, was dozing off but was jerked awake. "Huh! What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong. I just remembered how Nezzie rendered out fat, and I think it would be the best way to cook your thick stuff. You dig a shallow hole in the ground, in the shape of a bowl, and line it with a piece of hide—there should be a big enough piece left from the aurochs for that. Break up some bones and scatter them over the bottom, then put in the water and the hooves and whatever else you want. You can boil it for as long as we keep heating stones, and the little pieces of bone will keep the hot stones from actually touching the leather, so it won't burn through."

  "Good, Ayla. That's what we'll do," Jondalar said, still half-asleep. He rolled over and was soon snoring.

  But there was still something else on Ayla's mind that kept her awake. She had planned to leave the aurochs's stomach for the people of the Camp to use as a waterbag when they left, but it needed to be kept wet. Once it dried out, it got stiff, and would not go back to its original, pliable, nearly waterproof condition. Even if she filled it with water, it would eventually seep out and evaporate away, and she didn't know when the people would return.

  Suddenly it came to her. She almost called out again, but muffled it in time. He was sleeping, and she didn't want to wake him. She would let the stomach dry out and use it to line her new meat-keeper, shaping it while it was still wet to fit exactly. As she fell asleep in the darkened lodge, Ayla felt pleased that she had thought of a way to replace the very necessary item that had been lost.

  During the next few days, while the meat dried, they were both busy. They finished the bowl boat and coated it with the glue Jondalar made by boiling down the hooves, bone, and hide scraps. While it was drying, Ayla made baskets, for the meat they were leaving as a gift for the people of the Camp, for cooking to replace those she had lost, and for gathering, some of which she planned to leave behind. She gathered vegetable produce and medicinal herbs daily, drying some to take with them.

  Jondalar accompanied her one day to look for something to make into paddles for the boat. Shortly after they started out, he was pleased to find the skull of a giant deer that had died before the large palmate antlers were shed, giving him two of equal size. Though it was early, he stayed out with Ayla for the rest of the morning. He was learning to identify certain foods himself, and in the process he was beginning to understand how much Ayla really knew. Her knowledge of plants and her memory for their uses were incredible. When they returned to the Camp, Jondalar trimmed the tines off the broad antlers and attached them to sturdy, rather short poles, making entirely serviceable paddles.

  The next day he decided to use the wood-shaping apparatus he had set up to bend the wood for the boat frame, to straighten shafts for new spears. Shaping and smoothing them took most of the next couple of days, even with the special tools he had with him, carried in a roll of leather tied with thongs. But while he was working, every time he passed by the side of the earthlodge where he had thrown it, Jondalar noticed the truncated spear shaft he had brought up from the valley and felt a flush of annoyance. It was a shame that there wasn't a way to salvage that straight shaft, short of making a cropped and unbalanced spear out of it. Any of the spears he was working so hard to make could break just as easily.

  When he was satisfied that the spears would fly true, he used yet another tool, a narrow flint blade with a chisellike tip hafted to an antler-tine handle, to hollow out a deep notch in the thicker butt ends of the shafts. Then, from the prepared flint nodules he had with him, Jondalar knapped new blades and attached them to the spear shafts with the thick glue he had made as a coating for the boat, and fresh sinew. The tough tendon shrank as it dried, making a strong, solid bond. He finished by affixing pairs of long feathers, found near the river, from the numerous white-tailed eagles, falcons, and black kites that lived in the region feeding on the abundance of susliks and other small rodents.

  They had set up a target, using a thick, grass-stuffed bed pad that the badger had torn up and made worthless. Patched with scraps from the aurochs, it absorbed the force of a throw without damage to the spears. Both Jondalar and Ayla practiced a little every day. Ayla did it to maintain her accuracy, but Jondalar was experimenting with different lengths of shaft and sizes of point to see which would work best with the spear-thrower.

  When his new spears were finished and dried, he and Ayla took them to the target area to try them out with the spear-thrower and choose which ones each wanted. Though they were both very adept with the hunting weapon, some of their practice casts inevitably went wide of the mark and missed the cushioned target, usually landing harmlessly on the ground. But when Jondalar cast a newly completed spear with a powerful throw, and not only missed the target, but hit a large mammoth bone that was used as an outdoor seat, he flinched. He heard a crack as it bent and bounced back. The wooden shaft had splintered at a weak spot about a foot back from the point.

  When he walked over to examine it, he noticed that the brittle flint tip had also shattered along one edge and spalled off a large chip, leaving a lopsided point that was not worth salvaging. He was furious with himself for wasting a spear that had taken so much time and effort to make, before it could be used for anything worthwhile. In a sudden surge of anger, he cracked the bent spear across his knee and broke it in two, then threw it down.

  When he looked up, he noticed Ayla watching him, and he turned away, flushed with embarrassment over his outburst, then stooped down and picked up the broken pieces, wishing he could dispose of them unobtrusively. When he looked up again, Ayla was getting ready to cast another spear as though she hadn't seen anything. He walked over to the earthlodge and dropped the broken spear near the shaft that had broken during the hunt, then stared down at the pieces, feeling foolish. It was ridiculous to get so angry over breaking a spear.

  But it is a lot of work to make one, he thought, looking at the long shaft with the end broken off, and the section of the other spear with the broken flint
point still attached that happened to be lying just in front. It's too bad those pieces can't be put together to make a whole spear.

  As he stared at them, he began to wonder if maybe he could, and he picked up both pieces again, examining the broken ends carefully. He fitted them together and, for a while, the splintered ends stayed attached, then fell apart again. Looking over the entire long shaft, he noted the hollowed-out indentation he had carved at the butt end for the pointed hook of the spear-thrower, then turned it around to look again at the broken end.

  If I carved a deeper hold at this end, he thought, and shaved the end of this piece with the broken flint to a tapered point, and put them together, would they stay? Full of excitement, Jondalar went into the lodge and got out his roll of leather and took it outside. He sat down on the ground and unrolled it, displaying the variety of carefully made flint tools, and picked out the chisel tool. Setting it down nearby, he examined the broken shaft and reached for his flint knife from the sheath on his belt and began to cut away the splinters and make a smooth end.

  Ayla had stopped practicing with her spear-thrower and put it and her spears in the holder that she had adapted to wear across her back over one shoulder, the way Jondalar did. She was walking back toward the lodge carrying some plants she had dug up when he came striding toward her with a big smile on his face.

  "Look, Ayla!" he said, holding up the spear. The piece with the broken point still attached was fitted into the top end of the long spear shaft. "I fixed it. Now I'm going to see if it works!"

  She followed him back to the practice target and watched him set the spear on the thrower, pull back and take aim, then hurl the spear with great force. The long missile hit the target, then bounced back. But when Jondalar went to check, he found that the broken point attached to the small tapered shaft was embedded firmly in the target. With the impact, the long shaft had come loose and bounced back, but when he went to inspect it, he found it was undamaged. The two-part spear had worked.