The Valley Of Horses

29

Ayla rolled over, not quite awake, but aware of some discomfort. The lump under her would not go away until she finally woke up to reach for it. She held up the object and, in the dim red light of a fire almost out, saw the silhouette of the donii. With a flash of recognition, the day before sprang vividly to mind, and she knew the warmth lying with her in the bed was Jondalar.

We must have fallen asleep after we made Pleasures, she thought. In a happy glow she snuggled close to him and shut her eyes. But sleep eluded her. Snatches of scenes formed patterns and textures which she sorted through with her inner sense. The hunt, and Baby's return, and First Rites, and, overlaid on all, Jondalar. Her feelings about him were beyond any words she knew, but they filled her with inexpressible joy. She thought of him as she lay beside him, until it became too much to contain – then she quietly slipped out of bed, taking the ivory figurine with her.

She walked to the mouth of the cave and saw Whinney and Racer standing together, leaning close. The mare blew a quiet nicker of recognition and the woman veered toward them.

"Was it like that for you, Whinney?" she said in soft tones. "Did your stallion give you Pleasures? Oh, Whinney, I didn't know it could be like that. How could it have been so terrible with Broud and so wonderful with Jondalar?"

The young horse nuzzled in for his share of attention. She scratched and stroked, then hugged him. "No matter what Jondalar says, Whinney, I think your stallion gave you Racer. He's even the same color, and there are not many brown horses. I suppose it could have been his spirit, but I don't think so.

"I wish I could have a baby. Jondalar's baby. I can't – what would I do after he goes?" She blanched with a feeling close to terror. "Goes! Oh, Whinney, Jondalar is going to leave!"

She raced out of the cave and down the steep path, more by feel than sight. Her eyes were blinded by tears. She dashed across the rocky beach until she was stopped by the jutting wall, then huddled near it, sobbing. Jondalar is leaving. What will I do? How can I stand it? What can I do to make him stay? Nothing!

She hugged herself and hunkered down, leaning into the stone barrier as if trying to fend off some ravaging blow. She would be alone again when he left. Worse than alone: without Jondalar. What will I do here without him? Maybe I should leave too, find some Others and stay with them. No, I can't do that. They will ask where I come from, and Others hate the Clan. I will be abomination to them, unless I make words that are untrue.

I cannot I cannot shame Creb or Iza. They loved me, cared for me. Uba is my sister, and she is taking care of my son. The Clan is my family. When I had no one, the Clan took care of me, and now the Others don't want me.

And Jondalar is leaving. I will have to live here alone, all my life. I might as well be dead. Broud cursed me; he has won after all. How can I live without Jondalar?

Ayla cried until she had no tears left, only a desolate emptiness inside. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, and she noticed she still held the donii. She turned it around, marveling as much at the concept of making a piece of ivory into a small woman as at the figurine itself. In the moonlight, it resembled her even more. The hair carved into braids, the eyes in shadow, the nose and shape of the cheek, reminded her of her own reflection in a pool of water.

Why had Jondalar put her face on this symbol of the Earth Mother whom the Others revered? Was her spirit captured, linked with the one he called Doni? Creb had said her spirit was held with the Cave Lion's by her amulet, and by Ursus, the Great Cave Bear, the Clan's totem. She had been given a piece of the spirit of each member of the Clan when she became a medicine woman, and they had not been taken back after her death curse.

Clan and Others, totems and the Mother, all had some claim to that invisible part of her called spirit. I think my spirit must be confused, she thought – I know I am.

A cool wind urged her back up to the cave. Moving the cold spitted roast out of the way, she built up a small fire, trying not to disturb Jondalar, and started water heating for a tea to help her relax. She couldn't go to sleep yet. She stared at the flames while she waited, and she thought about the many times she had stared at flames to see a semblance of life. The hot tongues of light danced along the wood, leaping for the taste of a new piece, then drawing back and leaping again, until they claimed it, and devoured it.

"Doni! It's you! It's you!" Jondalar cried out in his sleep. Ayla jumped up and went to him. He was tossing and thrashing, obviously dreaming. She wondered if she should wake him. Suddenly his eyes flew open, looking startled.

"Are you all right, Jondalar?" she asked.

"Ayla? Ayla! Is it you?"

"Yes, it's I."

His eyes closed again, and he mumbled something incoherent. He hadn't been awake, she realized. It had been part of his dream, but he was calmer. She watched him until he relaxed, and then she went back to the fire. She let the flame die down as she sipped her tea. Finally feeling sleepy again, she removed her wrap and crawled in beside Jondalar and pulled the furs around her. The man's sleeping warmth made her think how cold it would be when he was gone – and from her vast reservoir of emptiness, new tears emerged. She cried herself to sleep.

Jondalar ran, panting to catch his breath, trying to reach the opening of the cave ahead. He glanced up and saw the cave lion. No, no! Thonolan! Thonolan! The cave lion was after him, crouched, then leaped. Suddenly the Mother appeared, and, with a command, she turned the lion away.

"Doni! It's you! It's you!"

The Mother turned around, and he saw Her face. The face was the doni carved to resemble Ayla. He called out to Her.

"Ayla? Ayla? Is it you?"

The carved face came to life; Her hair was a golden halo surrounded by a red glow.

"Yes, it's I."

The Ayla-donii grew and changed shape, became the ancient doni he had given away, the one that had been in his family for so many generations. She was ample and motherly and kept expanding until she was the size of a mountain. Then She began giving birth. All the creatures of the sea flowed out of Her deep cavern in a gush of birth water, then all the insects and birds of the air flew out in a swarm. Then the animals of the land – rabbits, deer, bison, mammoths, cave lions – and in the distance, he saw through a misty haze the vague forms of people.

They drew near as the mists cleared, and suddenly he could see them. They were flatheads! They saw him and ran away. He called after them, and one woman turned around. She had Ayla's face. He ran toward her, but the mists closed around her and enveloped him.

He groped through a red fog and heard a distant roar, like a rushing waterfall. It grew louder, bore down on him. He was overwhelmed by a torrent of people emerging from the capacious womb of the Earth Mother, a huge mountainous Earth Mother with Ayla's face.

He pushed his way through the people, struggling to get to Her, and finally reached the great cavern, Her deep opening. He entered Her, and his manhood was probing Her warm folds until they enclosed him in their satisfying depths. He was pumping furiously, with unrestrained joy; then he saw Her face, awash with team. Her body was shaking with sobs. He wanted to comfort Her, to tell Her not to cry, but he could not speak. He was pushed away.

He was in the midst of a great crowd flowing out of Her womb, all wearing beaded shirts. He tried to fight his way back, but the great press of people carried him away like a log caught in the flood of birth water; a log carried by the Great Mother River with a bloody shirt clinging to it.

He craned his neck to look back, and he saw Ayla standing in the mouth of the cavern. Her sobs echoed in his ears. Then, with resounding thunder, the cavern collapsed in a great rain of rocks. He stood alone, crying.

Jondalar opened his eyes to darkness. Ayla's small fire had used up the wood. In the absolute black, he wasn't sure if he was awake. The cave wall had no definition, no familiar focus to establish his place within his surroundings. For all his eyes could tell him, he might have been suspended in a fathomless void. The vivid shapes of his dreams were more substantial. They played across his mind in remembered bits and pieces, reinforcing their dimensions in his conscious thoughts.

By the time the night had faded enough to give bare outline to stone and cave openings, Jondalar had begun to attribute meaning to his sleeping images. He didn't often remember his dreams, but this one had been so strong, so tangible, that it had to be a message from the Mother. What was She trying to tell him? He wished for a zelandoni to help him interpret the dream.

As faint light penetrated the cave, he saw a tumult of blond hair framing Ayla's sleeping face, and he noticed the warmth of her body. He watched her in silence as shadows lightened. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her, but he didn't want to waken her. He brought a long golden tress to his lips. Then, quietly, he got up. He found the tepid tea, poured himself a cup, and walked out to the stone porch of the cave.

It was chilly in his breechclout, but he ignored the temperature, though a thought about the warm clothes Ayla had made for him passed through his mind. He watched the eastern sky lighten and the details of the valley sharpen, and he dredged up his dream again, trying to follow its tangled strands to unravel its mystery.

Why should Doni show him that all life came from Her? He knew it; it was an accepted fact of his existence. Why should She appear in his dream giving birth to all the fish and birds and animals and…

Flatheads! Of course! She was telling him the people of the Clan were Her Children too. Why had no one made that clear before? No one ever questioned that all life came from Her, why were those people so vilified? They were called animals as though animals were evil. What made flatheads evil?

Because they were not animals. They were human, a different kind of human! That's what Ayla has been saying all along. Is that why one of them had Ayla's face?

He could understand why her face would be on the donii he had made, the one who had stopped the lion in his dream – no one would believe what Ayla had actually done; it was more incredible than the dream. But why was her face on the ancient donii? Why should the Great Earth Mother Herself bear the likeness of Ayla?

He knew he would never understand all of his dream, but he felt he was still missing an important part. He went over it again, and when he recalled Ayla standing in the cave that was about to collapse, he almost shouted to her to get away.

He was staring at the horizon, his thoughts inward, feeling the same desolation and loneliness as in his dream when he had been standing alone, without her. Tears wet his face. Why did he feel such utter despair? What was he not seeing?

People in beaded shirts came to mind, leaving the cavern. Ayla had fixed the beaded shirt for him. She had made clothes for him, and she hadn't even known how to sew before. Traveling clothes that he would wear when he left.

Left? Leave Ayla? The fiery light rose over the edge. He closed his eyes and saw a warm golden glow.

Great Mother! What a stupid fool you are, Jondalar. Leave Ayla? How can you possibly leave her? You love her! Why have you been so blind? Why should it take a dream from the Mother to tell you something so plain that a child could have seen it?

A sense of great weight lifting from his shoulders made him feel a joyous freedom, a sudden lightness. I love her! It has finally happened to me! I love her! I didn't think it was possible, but I love Ayla!

He was filled with exuberance, ready to shout it to the world, ready to rush in and tell her. I have never told a woman that I love her, he thought. He hurried into the cave, but Ayla was still sleeping.

He went back out and brought in some wood, and using flint and a firestone – it still amazed him – quickly had a fire going. For once, he'd managed to wake up before her, and he wanted to surprise her with hot tea for a change. He found her mint leaves, and soon had the tea steeped and ready, but Ayla still slept.

He watched her, breathing, turning – he loved her hair long and free like that. He was tempted to wake her. No, she must be tired. It's daylight and she's not up.

He went down to the beach, found a twig to clean his teeth, then took a morning swim. It left him refreshed, full of energy, and famished. They had never gotten around to eating. He smiled to himself, remembering the reason; the thought caused a rising.

He laughed. You deprived him all summer, Jondalar. You can't blame your woman-maker for being so eager, now that he knows what he's missed. But don't push her. She may need to rest – she's not used to it. He raced up the path and entered the cave quietly. The horses were out to pasture. They must have gone while I was swimming, and she's still not awake. Is she all right? Maybe I should wake her. She rolled over and exposed a breast, adding impulse to his earlier thoughts.

He contained his urge and went to the fireplace to pour himself more tea, and wait. He noticed a difference in her random motions, then saw her groping for something.

"Jondalar! Jondalar! Where are you?" she cried, bolting up.

"Here I am," he said, rushing to her.

She clung to him. "Oh, Jondalar. I thought you were gone."

"I'm here, Ayla. I'm right here." He held her until she quieted. "Are you all right now? Let me get you some tea."

He poured the tea and brought her a cup. She took a sip, and then a bigger drink. "Who made this?" she asked.

"I did. I wanted to surprise you with hot tea, but it's not so hot anymore."

"You made it? For me?"

"Yes, for you. Ayla, I have never said this to a woman before. I love you."

"Love?" she asked. She wanted to be sure he meant what she hardly dared hope he might mean. "What does 'love' mean?"

"What does…! Jondalar! You pompous fool!" He stood up. "You, the great Jondalar, the one every woman wants. You believed it yourself. So careful to withhold the one word you thought they all wanted to hear. And proud that you've never said it to a woman. You finally fall in love – and you couldn't even admit it to yourself. Doni had to tell you in a dream! Jondalar is finally going to say it, going to admit he loves a woman. You almost expected her to faint with surprise, and she doesn't even know the meaning of the word!"

Ayla watched him with consternation, pacing back and forth, ranting to himself about love. She had to learn that word.

"Jondalar, what does 'love' mean?" She was serious, and she sounded a trifle annoyed.

He knelt down in front of her. "It's a word I should have explained long ago. Love is the feeling you have for someone you care for. It is what a mother feels for her children, or a man for his brother. Between a man and a woman, it means they care for each other so much that they want to share their lives together, not ever be apart."

She closed her eyes and felt her mouth tremble as she heard his words. Did she hear him right? Did she really understand?

"Jondalar," she said, "I did not know that word, but I know the meaning of the word. I have known the meaning of that word since you came, and the longer you were here, the more I knew it. So many times I have wished for the word to say that meaning." She closed her eyes, but the tears of relief and joy would not stay back. "Jondalar, I love, too."

He stood up, bringing her with him, and kissed her tenderly, holding her like some newfound treasure that he didn't want to break or lose. She put her arms around his chest and held him as though he were a dream that might fade if she let go. He kissed her mouth, and her face salty with tears, and, when she laid her head against him, he buried his face in her tangled golden hair to dry his own eyes.

He could not speak. He could only hold her and marvel at his incredible luck in finding her. He'd had to travel to the far ends of the earth to find a woman he could love, and nothing was going to make him let her go now.

"Why not just stay here? This valley has so much. With two of us, it will be so much easier. We have the spear throwers, and Whinney is a help. Racer will be, too," Ayla said.

They were walking through the field for no purpose other than to talk. They had picked all the seeds she wanted to pick; hunted and dried enough meat to last through the winter; gathered and stored the ripening fruits, and roots, and other plants for food and medicine; and collected a variety of materials for winter projects. Ayla wanted to try decorating clothing, and Jondalar, thought he'd carve some gaming pieces and teach Ayla how to play. But the true joy for Ayla was that Jondalar loved her – she would not be alone.

"It is a beautiful valley," Jondalar said. Why not stay here with her? Thonolan was willing to stay with Jetamio, he thought. But it wasn't just the two of them. How long could he stand it with no one else? Ayla had lived alone, for three years. They wouldn't have to be alone. Look at Dalanar. He started a new Cave, but in the beginning he had only Jerika, and her mother's mate, Hochaman. More people joined them later, and children were born. They are already planning a Second Cave of the Lanzadonii. Why can't you found a new Cave, like Dalanar? Maybe you can, Jondalar, but whatever you do, it won't be without Ayla.

"You need to know other people, Ayla, and I want to take you home with me. I know it would be a long Journey, but I think we could make it in a year. You'd like my mother, and I know Marthona would like you. And so would my brother, Joharran, and my sister, Folara – she must be a young woman by now. And Dalanar."

Ayla bowed her head, then looked up again. "How much will they like me when they find out my people were the Clan? Will they welcome me when they learn I have a son, who was born when I lived with them, who is abomination to them?"

"You can't hide from people for the rest of your life. Didn't the woman… Iza… didn't she tell you to find your own kind? She was right, you know. It won't be easy – I can't keep the truth from you. Most people don't know the Clan people are human. But you made me understand, and there are others who wonder. Most people are decent, Ayla. Once they get to know you, they will like you. And I'll be with you."

"I don't know. Can't we think about it?"

"Of course we can," he said. We can't start on a long Journey until spring, he was thinking. We could get as far as the Sharamudoi before winter sets it, but we can winter here as well. It would give her some time to get used to the idea.

Ayla smiled with genuine relief and stepped up her pace. She had been dragging her feet physically as well as mentally. She knew he was missing his family, and his people, and if he decided to go, she would go with him no matter where he went. She hoped, though, that after settling down for the winter he might want to stay and make his home in the valley with her.

They were far from the stream, almost up the slope to the steppes, when Ayla stooped to pick up a vaguely familiar object.

"It's my aurochs horn!" she said to Jondalar, brushing off the dirt and noticing the charred inside. "I used it to carry my fire. I found it while I was traveling, after I left the Clan." Memories flooded back. "And I carried a coal in it to light the torches to help me chase the horses into my first pit trap. It was Whinney's dam that was caught, and when the hyenas went after her foal, I chased them away and brought her to the cave. So much has happened since then."

"Many people carry fire when they travel, but with the firestones, we don't have to worry about it." His brow suddenly furrowed, and Ayla knew he was thinking. "We're stocked up, aren't we? There's nothing more we need to do."

"No, we don't need anything."

"Then why don't we make a Journey? A short Journey," he added when he saw her distress. "You haven't explored the area to the west. Why don't we take some food and tents and sleeping furs, and look it over? We don't have to go far."

"What about Whinney and Racer?"

"We'll take them with us. Whinney can even carry us part of the time, and maybe the food and gear. It would be fun, Ayla. Just the two of us," he said.

Traveling for fun was new to her, and hard to accept, but she couldn't think of any objections. "I suppose we could," she said. "Just the two of us… why not?" It might not be a bad idea to explore more of the country to the west, she thought.

"The dirt is not as deep back here," Ayla said, "but it's the best place for a cache, and we can use some of the fallen rocks."

Jondalar held the torch higher to spread the flickering light farther. "Several small caches, don't you think?"

"So if an animal breaks into one, he won't get everything. Good idea."

Jondalar moved the light to see into some of the crannies among the fallen rocks in the far corner of the cave. "I looked back here once. I thought I saw signs of cave lion."

"This was Baby's place. I saw cave lion signs before I moved in, too. Much older. I thought it was a sign from my totem to stop traveling and stay for the winter. I didn't think I would stay so long. Now I think I was supposed to wait here for you. I think the Cave Lion spirit guided you here, and then chase you so your totem would be strong enough for mine."

"I always thought of Doni as my guiding spirit."

"Maybe She guided you, but I think the Cave Lion chose you."

"You may be right. The spirits of all creatures are Doni's, the cave lion is Hers, too. The ways of the Mother are mysterious."

"The Cave Lion is a hard totem to live with, Jondalar. His tests have been difficult – I wasn't always sure I would live – but his gifts have made them worth it. I think his greatest gift to me is you," she finished in a soft voice.

He stuffed the torch in a crack, then took the woman he loved in his arms. She was so open, and honest, and when he kissed her she responded so eagerly that he almost gave in to his wanting of her.

"We have to stop this," he said, holding her shoulders to put a space between them, "or we'll never get ready to leave. I think you have Haduma's touch?

"What is Haduma's touch?"

"Haduma was an old woman we met, the mother of six generations, and greatly revered by her descendants. She had many of the Mother's powers. The men believed that if she touched their manhood, it would make them able to rise as often as they wished, to satisfy any woman, or many of them. Most men wish for that. Some women know ways to encourage men. All you have to do is get close to me, Ayla. This morning, last night. How many times yesterday? And the day before? I've never been able, or wanted to so much. But if we stop now, we'll never finish the caches this morning."

They cleared away rubble, levered aside some large boulders, and decided where to establish caches. As the day progressed, Jondalar thought Ayla seemed unusually quiet and withdrawn, and he wondered if it was anything he had said or done. Maybe he shouldn't seem so eager. It was hard to believe she was so ready for him every time he wanted her.

He knew many women held back and made a man work for his Pleasures, though they liked them, too. It had seldom been a problem for him, but he'd learned not to seem too eager: there was more challenge for a woman if a man seemed a bit restrained.

When they began moving the stored food to the rear of the cave, Ayla seemed even more reserved, bowing her head often and kneeling in quiet repose before picking up a rawhide-wrapped package of dried meat or a basket of roots. By the time they started making trips down to the beach to bring up more stones to pile around their winter supplies, Ayla was noticeably upset. Jondalar was sure it was his fault, but he didn't know what he had done. It was late afternoon when he saw her angrily trying to pick up a boulder much too heavy for her.

"We don't need that stone, Ayla. I think we should take a rest. It's warm, and we've been working all day. Let's go for a swim."

She stopped tugging at the rock, pushed her hair out of her eyes, undid the knot in her thong, and pulled off her amulet as her wrap fell away. Jondalar felt a familiar stirring in his loins. It happened every time he saw her body. She moves like a lion, he thought, admiring her sleek, sinewy grace as she ran into the water. He doffed his breechclout and raced in after her.

She was churning upstream so hard that Jondalar decided to wait until she came back downstream, and let her use up some of her irritation in effort. She was floating easily on the current when he caught up to her, and she did seem more relaxed. When she turned over to swim, he ran his hand along the curve of her back, from her shoulder, following the dip of her waist, and over her smooth rounded buttocks.

She shot ahead of him and was out of the water with her amulet back on and reaching for her wrap when he waded out.

"Ayla, what am I doing wrong?" he asked, standing in front of her, dripping.

"It's not you. I'm the one who's doing it wrong."

"You're not doing anything wrong."

"Yes I am. I've been trying all day to encourage you, but you don't understand Clan gestures."

When Ayla had first become a woman, Iza had explained not only how to care for herself when she bled, but how to clean herself after she had been with a man, and the gestures and postures that would encourage a man to give her the signal, though Iza had doubted she would need the information. Men of the Clan were not likely to find her attractive no matter what gestures she used.

"I know when you touch me in certain ways, or put your mouth on mine, that is your signal, but I don't know the ways to encourage you," she continued.

"Ayla, all you have to do is be there to encourage me."

"That's not what I mean," she said. "I don't know how to tell you when I want you to make Pleasures with me. I don't know the ways… You said some women know ways to encourage a man."

"Oh, Ayla, is that what's bothering you? You want to learn how to encourage me?"

She nodded and put her head down, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Clan women were not so forward. They exhibited their desire for a man with excessive modesty, as though they could hardly bear the sight of such an overwhelmingly masculine male – yet with demure glances and innocent postures that resembled the proper position for a female to assume, they let him know he was irresistible.

"Look how you've encouraged me, woman," he said, knowing he had developed an erection while talking to her. He couldn't help it, and he couldn't hide it. Seeing him so obviously encouraged brought a smile to the woman's lips; she couldn't help it. "Ayla," he said, and swept her up in both arms, "don't you know you encourage me just by being alive?"

Carrying her, he started across the beach toward the path. "Do you have any idea how it encourages me just to look at you? The first time I saw you, I wanted you." He continued up the path with a very surprised Ayla. "You are so much woman, you don't need ways to encourage – you don't have to learn a thing. Everything you do makes me want you more." They reached the entrance. "If you want me, all you have to do is say so, or better yet, this." He kissed her.

He carried her into the cave and put her down on the bed of furs. Then he kissed her again with open mouth and gently probing tongue. She felt his manhood, hard and hot between them. He sat up then and had a teasing grin on his face.

"You said you were trying all day. What makes you think you weren't encouraging me?" he said. Then he did something totally unexpected: he made a gesture.

Her eyes flew open with surprise. "Jondalar! That's… that's the signal!"

"If you're going to make your Clan signals to me, I think it's only fair to give them back."

"But… I…" She was at a loss for words – if not actions. She got up, turned around and went down on her knees, spreading them apart, and presented.

He had meant the signal as a joke; he didn't expect to be stimulated so quickly. But the sight of her round, firm buttocks, and her exposed female opening, deep pink and inviting, were irresistible. Before he knew it, he was on his knees behind her, entering her warm, pulsating depths.

From the moment she assumed the position, memories of Broud crowded her thoughts. For the first time, she would have refused Jondalar – if she could have. But as strong as the repellent associations were, her early conditioning to obey the signal was stronger.

He mounted and plunged. She felt Jondalar fill her, and she cried out with the unexpected pleasure. The posture made her feel pressures in new places, and when he drew back, the rubbing and friction excited in new ways. She backed to meet him when he dove in again. As he hovered over her, pumping and straining, she was suddenly reminded of Whinney and her bay stallion. The thought brought on a shudder of delicious warmth, and a pulsing, tingling pull. She reared up and backed to him, matching his pace, moaning and squealing.

The pressure was mounting quickly; her actions and his need drove him faster. "Ayla! Oh, woman," he cried out. "Beautiful, wild, woman," he breathed as he thrust and thrust and thrust again. He held her hips, pulled her to him, and, as he filled her, she reared back to meet him as he surged into her with a shudder of delight.

They stayed there for a moment, shaking, Ayla's head hanging down. Then, taking her with him, he rolled them both over on their sides, and then they lay there unmoving. Her back nestled against him, and with his manhood still in her, he curled around her and reached one hand over to cup her breast.

"I must admit," he said after a while, "that signal isn't so bad." He nuzzled the back of her neck and reached for her ear.

"I wasn't sure at first, but with you, Jondalar, everything is right. Everything is Pleasure," she said, snuggling back into him closer.

"Jondalar, what are you looking for?" Ayla called down from the ledge.

"I was trying to see if I could find any more firestones."

"I have hardly marked the first one I started using. It will last a long time – we don't need any more."

"I know, but I saw one, and thought I'd see how many more I could find. Are we ready?"

"I can't think of anything else we need. We can't stay too long – the weather changes so fast this time of year. It can be hot in the morning and a blizzard by evening," she said, coming down the path.

Jondalar put the new stones in his pouch, looked around once more, then looked up at the woman. Then he looked at the woman again.

"Ayla! What are you wearing?"

"Don't you like it?"

"I like it! Where did you get it?"

"I made it, when I was making yours. I copied yours to fit me, but I wasn't sure if I should wear it. I thought it might be something only a man should wear. And I didn't know how to bead a shirt. Is it all right?"

"I think so. I don't recall that the woman's outfit was much different. The shirt was a little longer, maybe, and the decorations might be different. This is Mamutoi clothing. I lost mine when we reached the end of the Great Mother River. It looks wonderful on you, Ayla, and I think you'll like it better. When it gets cold, you'll notice how warm it is, and comfortable."

"I'm glad you like it. I wanted to dress… your way."

"My way… I wonder if I know what my way is any more. Look at us! A man and a woman and two horses! One of them loaded with our tent and food and extra clothing. It feels strange to be starting on a Journey so unencumbered, to be carrying nothing except spears – and a spear thrower! And my pouch full of firestones. I think we'd be quite a surprise if anyone were to see us. But I'm more surprised at myself. I am not the same man I was when you found me. You have changed me, woman, and I love you for it."

"I, too, am changed, Jondalar. I love you."

"Well, which way do we go?"

Ayla felt a disquieting sense of loss as they walked the length of the valley, followed by the mare and her colt. When she reached the turn at the far end, she looked back.

"Jondalar! Look! Horses have come back to the valley. I haven't seen horses here since I first came. They left when I chased them and caught Whinney's dam. I am glad to see them back. I always did think this was their valley."

"Is it the same herd?"

"I don't know. The stallion was yellow, like Whinney. I don't see the stallion, only the lead mare. It's been a long time."

Whinney had seen the horses, too, and she gave a loud neigh. The greeting was returned, and Racer's ears turned toward them with interest. Then the mare followed the woman, and her colt trotted behind.

Ayla followed the river south and crossed when she saw the steep slope on the other side. She stopped at the top, end both she and Jondalar mounted Whinney. The woman found her landmarks and headed southwest. The terrain became rougher, more broken and folded, with rocky canyons and steep slopes leading to flat rises. When they neared an opening between jagged rock walls, Ayla dismounted and examined the ground. It held no fresh spoor. She led the way into a blind canyon, then climbed up on a rock that had split from the wall. As she walked to a rockslide at the back, Jondalar followed her.

"This is the place, Jondalar," she said, and, withdrawing a pouch from her tunic, she gave it to him.

He knew the place. "What is this?" he asked, holding up the small leather bag.

"Red earth, Jondalar. For his grave."

He nodded, unable to speak. He felt the pressure of tears and made no effort to check them. He poured the red ochre into his hand and broadcast it on the rocks and gravel, then spread a second handful. Ayla waited while he stared at the rocky slope with wet eyes, and, when he turned to go, she made a gesture over Thonolan's grave.

They rode for some time before Jondalar spoke. "He was a favorite of the Mother. She wanted him back."

They went a little farther, and then he asked, "What was that gesture you made?"

"I was asking the Great Cave Bear to protect him on his journey, to wish him luck. It means 'walk with Ursus'"

"Ayla, I didn't appreciate it when you told me. I do now. I am grateful to you for burying him, and for asking the Clan totems to help him. I think that, because of you, he will find his way in the spirit world."

"You said he was brave. I don't think the brave need help to find their way. It would be an exciting adventure for those who are fearless."

"He was brave, and he loved adventure. He was so full of life – as though he were trying to live it all at once. I would not have made this Journey if it hadn't been for him." His arms were around Ayla as they rode double. He tightened them, pulling her closer. "And I would not have found you.

"That's what the Shamud meant by saying it was my destiny! 'He leads where you would not otherwise go,' were the words. Thonolan led me to you… and then followed his love to the next world. I didn't want him to go, but I can understand him now."

As they continued west, the broken land gave way to flat open steppes again, crossed by the rivers and streams of runoff from the great northern glacier. The waterways cut through occasional high-walled canyons and meandered down gently sloping valleys. The few trees that graced the steppes were dwarfed by their struggle to live, even alongside the waters that fed their roots, and their shapes were tortured, as though frozen in the act of bending away from a violent gust.

They kept to the valleys when they could, for shelter from the wind, and for wood. Only there, protected, did birch, willow, pine, and larch grow in any abundance. The same was not true for animals. The steppes were a massive reserve of wildlife. With their new weapon, the man and woman hunted at will, whenever they wanted fresh meat, and they often left the remains of their kills for other predators and scavengers.

They had been traveling for half a moon's cycle of phases when a day dawned hot and unusually still. They had walked most of the morning, and they mounted when they saw a rise in the distance with a hint of green. Jondalar, prodded by Ayla's warmth and closeness, had worked his hand under her tunic to fondle her. They topped the hill and looked down at a pleasant valley watered by a large river. They reached the water when the sun was high.

"Should we go north or south, Jondalar?"

"Let's not do either. Let's make camp," he said.

She started to object, only because she was not accustomed to stopping so early for no reason. Then, when Jondalar nibbled at her neck and gently squeezed her nipple, she decided they had no reason to go on, and more than enough to stop.

"All right, let's make camp," she said. She threw a leg over and slid down. He dismounted and helped her remove the pack baskets from Whinney, so the horse could rest and graze. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her, reaching under her tunic again.

"Why don't you let me take it off," she said.

He smiled while she pulled the tunic over her head and undid the waist tie of the lower garment and stepped out of it. He pulled his tunic over his head, then heard her giggle. When he looked up, she was gone. She laughed again, then jumped into the river.

"I decided to go swimming," she said.

He grinned, took off his trousers, and followed her in. The river was deep and cold and the current swift, but she was swimming upstream so hard that he had difficulty catching up with her. He grabbed her and, treading water, kissed her. She ducked out of his arms and raced for the shore, laughing.

He went after her, but, by the time he reached the shore, she had raced up the valley. He took off after her, and, just as he reached her, she dodged away again. He chased her again, putting forth all his effort, and finally caught her around the waist.

"You're not getting away this time, woman," he said, pulling her close. "You'll tire me out chasing you – then I won't be able to give you Pleasures," he said, delighted with her playfulness.

"I don't want you to give me Pleasures," she said.

His jaw dropped, end lines creased his forehead. "You don't want me…" He let go of her.

"I want to give you Pleasures."

His heart started beating again. "You do give me Pleasures, Ayla," he said, taking her back in his arms.

"I know it pleases you to give me Pleasures – that's not what I mean." Her eyes were serious. "I want to learn to Pleasure you, Jondalar."

He couldn't resist her. His manhood was hard between them as he held her close, and he kissed her as though he couldn't get enough of her. She kissed him back, following his example. They lingered over the kiss, tasting, touching, exploring each other.

"I will show you how to please me, Ayla," he said, and, taking her hand, he found a place of green grass near the water. When they sat down, he kissed her again, then reached for her ear and kissed her neck, pushing her back. His hand was on her breast, and he was reaching for it with his tongue, when she sat up.

"I want to Pleasure you," she said.

"Ayla, it pleases me so much to give you Pleasure – I don't know how it could possibly please me more for you to Pleasure me."

"Will it please you less?" she asked.

Jondalar threw back his head, laughed, and took her in his arms. She smiled but wasn't sure what had delighted him so.

"I don't think anything you did could please me less." Then, looking at her with his vibrant blue eyes, he said, "I love you, woman."

"I love you, Jondalar. I feel love when you smile like that, with your eyes like that, and so much when you laugh. No one laughed in the Clan, and they did not like it when I did. I don't ever want to live with people who will not let me smile or laugh."

"You should laugh, Ayla, and smile. You have a beautiful smile." She couldn't help smiling at his words. "Ayla, oh, Ayla," he said, burying his face in her neck and caressing her.

"Jondalar, I love when you touch me, and kiss in my neck, but I want to know what you like."

He made a wry grin. "I can't help myself – you 'encourages me too much. What do you like, Ayla? Do to me what feels good to you."

"Will you like it?"

"Try it."

She pushed him back, then bent over to kiss him, opening her mouth and using her tongue. He responded, but held himself in check. Then she kissed his neck, flicking her tongue lightly. She felt him shiver a bit, and she looked at him, wanting confirmation.

"Does it please you?"

"Yes, Ayla, it pleases me."

It did. Restraining himself under her tentative advances fired him more than he dreamed. Her light kisses seared through him. She was unsure of herself, as inexperienced as a girl who had reached puberty, but had not yet had First Rites – and no one was more desirable. Such tender kisses had more power to arouse than the most ardent and sensual caresses of more experienced women – because they were forbidden.

Most women were available to some degree; she was untouchable. The untried young woman could drive men, young and old, to a frenzy with secret caresses in dark corners of the cave. A mother's worst fear was that her daughter would come into her womanhood just after the Summer Meeting, with a long winter to face before the next. Most girls had some experience by First Rites with kissing and fondling, and Jondalar had known it was not the first time for a few, though he would not disgrace them by revealing it.

He knew the appeal of those young women – it was part of his enjoyment of First Rites – end it was that appeal Ayla was exerting on him. She kissed his neck. He quivered and, closing his eyes, gave himself up to it.

She moved lower and made ticklish wet circles on his body, feeling her own excitement rising. It was almost torture for him, exquisite torture, part tickle and part searing stimulation. When she reached his navel, he couldn't stop himself. He put his hands on her head and gently pushed her lower until she felt his hot shaft on her cheek. She was breathing hard, and drawing, pulling sensations reached deep. Her tickling tongue was more than he could bear. He guided her head to his outstretched rigid organ. She looked up at him.

"Jondalar, do you want me to…"

"Only if you want to, Ayla."

"It would please you?"

"It would please me."

"I want."

He felt a moist warmth enclose the end of his throbbing manhood, and then more than the end. He groaned. Her tongue explored the smooth round head, probed the small fissure, discovered the texture of the skin. When her first actions brought expressions of pleasure, she grew more confident. She was enjoying her explorations and felt her own throbbing inside. She circled his shape with her tongue. He called out her name, and she moved her tongue faster and felt wetness between her own legs.

He felt suction, and moist warmth moving up and down. "O Doni! Oh, woman! Ayla, Ayla! How did you learn to do that!"

She tried to discover how much she could hold, and she drew him in until she nearly gagged. His cries and moans encouraged her to try again, and again, until he was rising to meet her.

Then, sensing his need for her depths – and her own need as well – she rose, moved her leg over to straddle him, impaled herself on his full-girthed and extended member, and drew it into her. She arched her back and felt her Pleasure, as he penetrated deep.

He looked up at her and gloried in the sight. The sun behind her turned her hair into a golden nimbus. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, and her face suffused with ecstasy. As she leaned back, her shapely breasts jutted forward, her slightly darker nipples pointing out. Her sinuous body glistened in the sun; his own manhood buried deep within was ready to burst with rapture.

She raised up along his shaft, and came down as he raised to meet her, and his breath caught. He felt a surge he couldn't have controlled if he'd tried. He cried out when she rose again. She pushed against him, feeling a spurting wetness, as he shook with release.

He reached up and pulled her down, his mouth finding her nipple. After a while of drained contentment, Ayla rolled over. Jondalar got up, bent over to kiss her, then reached for both her breasts to nuzzle between them. He suckled one, then the other, and kissed her again. Then he relaxed beside her, cradling her head.

"I like to give you Pleasures, Jondalar."

"No one has ever pleased me better, Ayla."

"But you like it better when you Pleasure me."

"Not better, exactly, but… how do you know me so well?"

"It is what you learned to do. It is your skill, like toolmaking." She smiled, then giggled. "Jondalar has two skills. He is a toolmaker and a woman-maker," she said, looking pleased with herself.

He laughed. "You just made a joke, Ayla," he said, smiling askance. It was a little too close to the truth, and the joke had been made before. "But you are right. I love to give you Pleasures, I love your body, I love all of you."

"I like it when you Pleasure me, too. It makes love fill up inside me. You can Pleasure me as much as you want, only, sometimes, I want to Pleasure you."

He laughed again. "Agreed. And since you want to learn so much, I can teach you more. We can Pleasure each other, you know. I wish it was my turn to make 'love fill up inside you.' But you did it so well, I don't think even Haduma's touch could raise me."

Ayla was silent for a moment "It would not matter, Jondalar."

"What wouldn't matter?"

"Even if your manhood never rose again – you still make love fill up inside me."

"Don't ever say it!" He grinned, but gave a small shudder.

"Your manhood will rise again," she said with great solemnity, then giggled.

"What makes you so full of salt, woman? There are some things you shouldn't make jokes about," he said with mock offense, then laughed. He was surprised and pleased at her playfulness and new understanding of humor.

"I like to make you laugh. Laughing with you feels almost as good as loving you. I want you always to laugh with me. Then I think you won't ever stop loving me."

"Stop loving you?" he said, sitting up a bit and looking down at her. "Ayla, I looked for you all my life and didn't know I was looking. You are everything I ever wanted, everything I ever dreamed of in a woman, and more. You are a fascinating enigma, a paradox. You are totally honest, open; you hide nothing: yet you are the most mysterious woman I've ever met.

"You are strong, self-reliant, entirely able to take care of yourself and of me: yet you would sit at my feet – if I'd let you – with no shame, no resentment, as easily as I would honor Doni. You are fearless, courageous; you saved my life, nursed me back to health, hunted for my food, provided for my comfort. You don't need me. Yet you make me want to protect you, watch over you, make sure no harm comes to you.

"I could live with you all my life and never really know you; you have depths it would take many lifetimes to explore. You are wise and ancient as the Mother, and as fresh and young as a woman at First Rites. And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can't believe how lucky I am to get so much. I didn't think I was able to love anyone; now I know I was only waiting for you. I didn't think it was possible for me to love, Ayla, and I love you more than life itself."

Ayla had tears in her eyes. He kissed both eyelids, and he held her close, as though he was afraid he might lose her.

When they woke up the next morning, there was a thin layer of snow on the ground. They let the tent opening fall back and snuggled into the sleeping furs, but they both felt a sense of sadness.

"It's time to turn back, Jondalar."

"I suppose you're right," he said, watching his breath rise in a slight puff of steam. "It's still early in the season. We shouldn't run into any bad storms."

"You never know; the weather can surprise you."

They finally got up and started breaking camp. Ayla's sling brought down a great jerboa emerging from its subterranean nest in rapid bipedal jumps. She picked it up by a tail that was nearly twice as long as its body, and slung it over her back by hoof-like hind claws. At the campsite, she quickly skinned and spitted it.

"I'm sad to be going back," Ayla said, while Jondalar built up the fire. "It has been… fun. Just traveling, stopping where we wanted. Not worrying about bringing anything back. Making camp at noon just because we wanted to swim, or have Pleasures. I'm glad you thought of it."

"I'm sad it's over, too, Ayla. It's been a good trip."

He got up to get more wood, walking down toward the river. Ayla helped him. They rounded a bend and found a pile of rotted deadfall. Suddenly, Ayla heard a sound. She looked up and reached for Jondalar.

"Heyooo!" a voice called.

A small group of people were walking toward them, waving. Ayla clung to Jondalar; his arm was around her, protective, reassuring.

"It's all right, Ayla. They're Mamutoi. Did I ever tell you they call themselves the mammoth hunters? They think we are Mamutoi, too," Jondalar said.

As the group neared, Ayla turned to Jondalar, her face full of surprise and wonder. "Those people, Jondalar, they are smiling," she said. "They are smiling at me."