The Mammoth Hunters ec-3 Page 64

  The sight of the enormous animals brought a flood of memories to Ayla of the first time she had seen mammoths. She recalled wishing, then, that she could go hunting with the men of the Clan, and remembered that Talut had invited her to go on the first mammoth hunt with the Mamutoi. She did like to hunt, and the idea that she might actually join the hunters this time gave her a tingle of anticipation. She began to really look forward to the Summer Meeting.

  The first hunt of the season had important symbolic meaning. As massive and majestic as woolly mammoths were, the Mamutoi feeling for them went beyond wonder at their size. They depended upon the animal for much more than food, and in their need and desire to assure the continuance of the great beasts, they conceived a special relationship with them. They held them in reverence because they based their own identity on them.

  Mammoths had no real natural enemies; no carnivorous animal regularly depended on them for sustenance. The huge cave lions, twice the size of any large feline, which normally preyed on the large grazers – aurochs, bison, giant deer, elk, moose, or horse – and could kill a full-grown adult, occasionally brought down a young, sick, or very old mammoth, but no four-legged predator, singly or in groups, could kill an adult mammoth in its prime. Only the Mamutoi, the human children of the Great Earth Mother, had been given the ability to hunt the largest of Her creatures. They were the chosen ones. Among all Her creations, they were preeminent. They were the Mammoth Hunters.

  After the mammoth herd passed, the people of the Lion Camp followed eagerly behind them. Not to hunt them, that would come later. They were after the soft, downy wool of their winter undercoats, which was being shed in large handfuls through the coarser outer guard hairs. The naturally colored dark red wool, which was gathered from the ground and spiny brush that caught and held it, was considered a special gift from the Spirit Mammoth.

  As chance provided, the white wool of mouflon which was shed naturally by the wild sheep in spring, the unbelievably soft earthy-brown downy wool of musk-ox, and the lighter red rhinoceros underwool were also gathered with great enthusiasm. In their minds, they offered thanks and appreciation to the Great Earth Mother who gave Her children everything they needed from her abundance, vegetable products and animals, and materials like flint and clay. They only had to know where and when to look.

  Though fresh vegetables – carbohydrates – were enthusiastically added to their diet, fur all the rich variety available to them, the Mamutoi hunted little in spring and early summer, unless stored supplies of meat were very low. The animals were too lean. The deep, hard winter sapped them of the required concentrated sources of energy in the form of fat. Their perambulations were driven by the need to replenish. A few male bison were picked off, if the fur at the nape of the neck was still black, indicating fat still present in some measure, and a few pregnant females of several species, for the tender fetus meat and skin which made soft baby clothes, or undergarments. The major exception was reindeer.

  Vast herds of reindeer migrated north, the antlered females with the last year's young leading the way along remembered trails to their traditional calving grounds, followed by the males. As with other herding animals, their ranks were thinned by wolves that ranged along their flanks searching out the weak and the old, and by several species of felines: large lynxes, long-bodied leopards, and an occasional massive cave lion. The large carnivores played host with their leavings to a great variety of secondary carnivores and scavengers, both four-legged and flying: foxes, hyenas, brown bears, civets, small steppe cats, wolverines, weasels, ravens, kites, hawks, and many more.

  The two-legged hunters preyed on them all. The fur and feathers of their hunting competitors were not disdained, though reindeer were the primary game of the Lion Camp – not for the meat, although it did not go to waste. The tongue was considered a treat and much of the meat was dried for use in traveling food, but it was the hides they wanted. Commonly grayish-fawn, but ranging in color from creamy white to almost black, with a reddish-brown cast in the young, the coat of the most northern ranging deer was both lightweight and warm. Because their fur was naturally insulating, no finer cold-weather clothing could be found than that made from reindeer hide, and it was without equal for bedding and ground sheets. With surrounds and pit traps, the Lion Camp hunted them every year, to replenish their own supplies and for gifts to take with them when they set out on their own summer migrations.

  As the Lion Camp prepared for the Summer Meeting, excitement ran high. At least once every day, someone told Ayla how much she would like meeting some relative or friend, or how much they would want to meet her. The only one who seemed to lack enthusiasm for the gathering of the Camps was Rydag. Ayla had never seen the boy in such low spirits, and she worried about his health.

  She watched him carefully for several days, and one unusually warm afternoon when he was outside watching several people stretching reindeer hides, she sat down beside him.

  "I have made new medicine for you, Rydag, to take to the Summer Meeting," Ayla said. "It is fresher, and may be stronger. You will have to tell me if you feel any differences, better or worse," she said, using both hand signs and words, as she usually did with him. "How are you feeling now? Any changes lately?"

  Rydag liked it when Ayla talked to him. Though he was profoundly grateful for his new ability to communicate with his Camp, their understanding and use of sign language was essentially simple and direct. He had understood their verbal language for years, but when they spoke to him, they tended to simplify it to match the signs they used. Her signs were closer in nuance and feeling to verbal speech, and they enhanced her words.

  "No, feel same," the boy signed.

  "Not tired?"

  "No… Yes. Always little tired." He smiled. "Not as much."

  Ayla nodded, studying him carefully, checking for any visible symptoms, trying to assure herself that there was no change in his condition, at least none for the worse. She did not see any signs of physical deterioration, but he seemed dejected.

  "Rydag, is something bothering you? Are you unhappy?"

  He shrugged, and looked away. Then he looked back at her. "Not want to go," he signed.

  "Where don't you want to go? I don't understand."

  "Not want to go Meeting," he said, looking away again.

  Ayla frowned, but didn't press. Rydag didn't seem to want to talk about it, and soon went inside the lodge. She followed him in through the front foyer, trying not to seem conspicuous, and from the cooking hearth watched him lie down on his bed. She was worried about him. He seldom went to bed voluntarily during the day. She saw Nezzie come in and stop to tie the front drape back. Ayla hurried toward her, to help.

  "Nezzie, do you know what's wrong with Rydag? He seems so… unhappy," Ayla said.

  "I know. He gets that way this time of year. It's the Summer Meeting. He doesn't like it."

  "That's what he said. Why?"

  Nezzie paused and looked full at Ayla. "You really don't know, do you?" The young woman shook her head. Nezzie shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Ayla. There's nothing you can do."

  Ayla walked through the lodge along the passageway, and glanced at the boy. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. She shook her head, wishing she could help. She guessed it was something about his difference, but he had been to Meetings before.

  She hurried through the empty Fox Hearth, and into the Mammoth Hearth. Suddenly, Wolf came bounding in through the front entrance and was at her heels, playfully jumping up. She commanded him down with a signal. He obeyed, but looked so hurt she relented and threw him the well-chewed-up piece of soft leather that had once been one of her favorite stocking-shoes. She had finally given it to him when it seemed to be the only way to break him of chewing up everyone else's shoes and boots. He quickly tired of his old toy and, getting down on his forelegs, wagged his tail and yipped at her. Ayla couldn't help smiling, and decided it was just too nice a day to stay inside. On the spur of the moment, she picked up
her sling and a pouch of round stones she had gathered, and signaled Wolf to follow her. Seeing Whinney in the annex, she decided to include the mare as well.

  Ayla went out through the arched entrance of the annex, followed by the hay-colored horse, and the young gray wolf, whose fur and markings were typical of his species, unlike his black mother. She noticed Racer partway down the slope toward the river. Jondalar was with him. His shirt was off in the warm sun, and he was leading the young stallion by a rope. As promised, he had been training Racer, spending most of his time at it, in fact, and both he and the horse seemed to enjoy it.

  He saw her, and motioned for her to wait as he started up toward her. It was unusual for him to approach her, or indicate that he wanted to speak to her. Jondalar had changed since the incident on the steppes. He no longer avoided her, exactly, but he seldom made an effort to talk to her, and when he did, he was like a stranger, reserved and polite. She had hoped the young stallion would bring him closer to her, but if anything, he seemed more distant.

  She waited, watching the tall, muscular, handsome man approach her, and unbidden, the thought of her warm response to his need on the steppes came to her mind. In an instant, she felt herself want him. It was a reaction of her body, beyond her control, but as Jondalar neared, she noticed the color rise to his face and his rich blue eyes fill with that special look. She saw the bulge of his manhood, though she'd had no intention of looking there, and felt herself reddening.

  "Excuse me, Ayla. I don't want to disturb you, but I felt I should show you this new restrainer I worked out for Racer. You might want to use one like it for Whinney," Jondalar said, keeping his voice normal and wishing he could control the rest of himself.

  "You are not disturbing me," Ayla said, although he was. She looked at the device made of thin strips of leather, braided and looped around each other.

  The mare had come into heat earlier in the season. Soon after Ayla noticed Whinney's condition, she heard the distinctive neigh of a stallion on the steppes. Though Ayla had found her after the mare had gone to live with a stallion and herd before, she couldn't face the thought of giving up Whinney to a stallion. She might not get her friend back this time. Ayla had used a halterlike contrivance and a rope around the neck to restrain the mare – and the young stallion who had exhibited great interest and excitement – and kept them inside the annex if she couldn't be with them. Since then, she continued to use a halter occasionally, though she preferred to allow Whinney the freedom to come and go as she wished.

  "How does it work?" Ayla asked.

  He demonstrated on Whinney with an extra one he had made for her. Ayla asked several questions in a seemingly dispassionate tone, but she was hardly paying attention. She was far more aware of Jondalar's warmth when she stood beside him, and of his faint, pleasantly masculine smell. She seemed unable to keep from staring, at his hands, at the play of muscles across his chest, and at the bump of his manhood. She hoped her questions would lead to further conversation, but as soon as he finished explaining the device, he left abruptly. Ayla watched him grab up his shirt, mount Racer and, guiding him with leads to the new bridle, ride up the slope. She considered, for a moment, going after him on Whinney, then changed her mind. If he was so anxious to get away from her, it must mean he didn't want her around.

  Ayla stared after Jondalar until he was out of sight. Wolf, eagerly yipping at her, finally brought her attention back. She wrapped her sling around her head, and checked the stones in the pouch, then picked up the pup and put him on Whinney's withers. Then she mounted and started up the slope in a different direction from the one Jondalar had taken. She had planned to go hunting with Wolf, and she might as well do it. Wolf had begun to stalk and try to catch mice and small game on his own, and she had discovered that he was very good at flushing game for her sling. Though it was accidental at first, the wolf was quick to learn, and was already becoming trained to flush them at her command.

  Ayla was right in one respect. Jondalar left in such a hurry not because he didn't want to be around her just then – but only because he did want to be around her all the time. He needed to get away from his own reactions to Ayla's nearness. She was Promised to Ranec now, and he had lost any claim he might have had on her. Lately, he had started riding when he wanted to get away from a difficult situation, or from the strain of fighting conflicting emotions, or just to think. He began to understand why Ayla so often had ridden off on Whinney when something was troubling her. Riding across the open grasslands astride the stallion, feeling the wind in his face, had both an exhilarating and calming effect.

  Once up on the steppes, he signaled Racer to a gallop, and leaned closer to the strong neck stretching forward. It had been surprisingly easy to accustom the horse to accepting a rider, but in many ways both Ayla and Jondalar had been getting him used to it for some time. It was harder to decide how to make Racer understand and want to go where his rider wanted to go.

  Jondalar understood that Ayla's control of Whinney had worked itself out in such a natural way that her directions were still largely unconscious, but he started with the idea of training the horse. His directions were much more purposeful, and as he was training the horse, he was teaching himself as well. He learned how to sit on the horse, how to work with the stallion's powerful muscles, not just bounce on his back, and he discovered that the animal's sensitivity to thigh pressure and shifts in body position made guiding him easier.

  As he gained more confidence and became more comfortable, he rode more, which was exactly the kind of practice that was needed, but the more he associated with Racer, the more affection he felt for him, also. He had been fond of him from the beginning, but he was still Ayla's horse. He kept telling himself he was training Racer for her, but he hated thinking about leaving the young stallion behind.

  Jondalar had planned to leave immediately after the Spring Festival, yet he was still there and he wasn't sure why. He thought of reasons – it was still too early in the unpredictable season, he had promised Ayla he would train Racer – but he knew they were just excuses. Talut thought he was staying to go to the Summer Meeting with them, and Jondalar didn't try to correct his impression, though he kept telling himself he would be gone before they left. Every night when he went to bed, and particularly if Ayla went to the Fox Hearth, he told himself he was leaving the next day, and every day he put it off. He struggled with himself, but when he seriously thought of packing up and going, he remembered her lying cold and still on the floor of the Mammoth Hearth, and he couldn't leave.

  Mamut had spoken to him the day after the Festival, and told him the root had been too powerful for him to control. It was too dangerous, the shaman said, he would never use it again. He had advised Ayla not to use it either, and cautioned her that she would need strong protection if she ever did. Without actually saying so, the old man implied that somehow Jondalar had reached out to Ayla and was responsible for bringing her back.

  The shaman's words disturbed Jondalar, but he derived a strange sort of comfort from them, too. When the man of the Mammoth Hearth had feared for Ayla's safety, why had he asked him to stay? And why did Mamut say it was he who brought her back? She was Promised to Ranec, and there was no doubt of the carver's feeling for her. If Ranec was there, why did Mamut want him? Why didn't Ranec bring her back? What did the old man know? Whatever it was, Jondalar could not bear the thought of not being there if she needed him again, or of letting her face some terrible danger without him, but neither could he bear the thought of her living with another man. He couldn't decide whether to go or stay.

  "Wolf! Put that down!" Rugie cried, angry and upset. She and Rydag were playing at the Mammoth Hearth where Nezzie had told them to go so she could pack. "Ayla! Wolf has my doll and won't put her down."

  Ayla was sitting on the middle of her bed surrounded by neat piles of her things. "Wolf! Drop it!" she commanded. "Come here," she signaled.

  Wolf dropped the doll, which was made of scraps of leather, and slunk
with his tail between his legs to Ayla. "Up here," she said, patting the place at the head of her bed where he usually slept. The wolf pup jumped up. "Now, lie down, and don't bother Rugie and Rydag any more." He lay down with his head on his paws, staring up at her with woeful, penitent eyes.

  Ayla went back to sorting through her things, but soon stopped and watched the two children playing together on the floor of the Mammoth Hearth, not meaning to stare, but intrigued. They were playing "hearths," making believe they were sharing a hearth the way grown-up women and men did. Their "child" was the leather doll, fashioned into a human shape with a round head, a body, arms and legs, wrapped in a soft skin blanket. It was the doll that fascinated Ayla. She never had a doll; people of the Clan did not make images of any kind, drawn, sculpted, or fashioned out of leather, but it reminded her of a wounded rabbit she once brought back to the cave for Iza to heal. She had cuddled and rocked the rabbit the same way Rugie held and played with the doll.

  Ayla knew it was usually Rugie who initiated the games. Sometimes they played that they were joined, other times that they were "leaders," a brother and sister in charge of their own camp. Ayla watched the little blond girl and the brown-haired boy, suddenly conscious of his Clan features. Rugie thinks of him as her brother, Ayla thought, but she doubted that they would ever be co-leaders of a Camp.

  Rugie gave the doll to Rydag to tend, then got up and walked away on some imagined errand. Rydag watched her go, then put the doll down, and looked up at Ayla and smiled. The boy wasn't as interested in the imaginary baby after Rugie failed to return in a short time. He preferred real babies, though he didn't mind going along with Rugie's play when she was there. After a while, Rydag got up and left, too. Rugie had forgotten the game, and the doll for a while, and Rydag went to find her, or to find something else to do.