The Valley of Horses (Earth's Children 2)

She set the eggs down near the stream beside the birds, then picked long reeds growing near the water’s edge. The loosely woven basket she made took only a few moments; it would be used only to transport the eggs and then be thrown away. She used more reeds to fasten together the feathered feet of the brace of ptarmigan. The dense winter snowshoe feathers were already growing in.

Winter. Ayla shivered. She didn’t want to think about winter, cold and bleak. But winter was never entirely out of mind. Summer was only the time to get ready for winter.

Jondalar was going to leave! She knew it. It was silly to think he would stay with her in the valley. Why should he? Would she stay if she had people? It was going to be worse after he left … even if he did look at her like that.

“Why did he have to come?”

She startled herself with her voice. She wasn’t used to hearing herself talk when she was alone. “But I can talk. That much Jondalar did. At least, if I see people, I can talk to them now. And I know people live to the west. Iza was right, there must be many people, many Others.”

She draped the ptarmigan over the mare’s back, one dangling on either side, and held the basket of eggs between her legs. I was born to the Others … Find a mate, Iza told me. I thought Jondalar was sent for me by my totem, but would one my totem sent look at me like that?

“How could he look at me like that?” she cried with a convulsive sob. “O Cave Lion, I don’t want to be alone anymore.” Ayla slumped down, giving in to tears again. Whinney noticed the lack of direction, but it didn’t matter. She knew the way. After a while Ayla sat up. No one is making me stay here. I should have been looking before this. I can talk now …

“ … and I can tell them Whinney is not a horse to hunt,” she continued out loud after reminding herself. “I’ll get everything ready, and next spring I will leave.” She knew she would not put it off again.

Jondalar won’t leave right away. He will need clothes and weapons. Maybe my Cave Lion sent him here to teach me. Then I must learn all I can before he goes. I will watch him, and ask him questions, no matter how he looks at me. Broud hated me all the years I lived with the Clan. I can stand it if Jondalar … if he … hates me. She closed her eyes to squeeze back tears.

She reached for her amulet, remembering what Creb had told her long ago: When you find a sign your totem has left for you, put it in your amulet. It will bring you luck. Ayla had put them all in her amulet. Cave Lion, I’ve been alone so long, put luck in my amulet.

The sun had fallen behind the upstream gorge wall by the time she rode down toward the stream. Darkness always followed quickly. Jondalar saw her coming and ran down to the beach. Ayla had urged Whinney to a gallop, and, as she rounded the jutting wall, she almost collided with him. The horse shied, nearly unseating the woman. Jondalar reached up a steadying hand, but when he felt bare flesh, he jerked his hand away, sure she must despise him.

He hates me, Ayla thought. He can’t stand to touch me! She swallowed a sob and signaled Whinney forward. The horse crossed the rocky beach and clattered up the path with Ayla on her back. She dismounted at the cave entrance and dashed in, wishing she had some other place to go. She wanted to hide. She dropped the egg basket beside the hearth, scooped up an armful of furs, and carried them to the storage area. She dumped them on the ground on the other side of the drying rack, amidst unused baskets, mats, and bowls, then jumped into them and pulled them over her head.

Ayla heard Whinney’s hooves a moment later, and then the colt. She was shaking, fighting back tears, acutely conscious of the movements of the man in the cave. She wished he would leave so at least she could cry.

She didn’t hear his bare feet on the dirt floor as he approached, but she knew he was there and tried to stop her shaking.

“Ayla?” he said. She didn’t answer. “Ayla, I brought you some tea.” She held herself stiff. “Ayla, you don’t have to stay back here. I’ll move. I’ll go to the other side of the fireplace.”

He hates me! He can’t stand to be near me, she thought, stifling a sob. I wish he’d go away, I wish he’d just go away.

“I know it doesn’t do any good, but I have to say it. I’m sorry, Ayla. I’m more sorry than I can say. You didn’t deserve what I did. You don’t have to answer me, but I have to talk to you. You have always been honest with me—it’s time for me to be straightforward with you for a change.

“I’ve been thinking about it since you rode off. I don’t know why I did … what I did, but I want to try to explain. After that lion attacked and I woke up here, I didn’t know where I was, and I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t talk to me. You were a mystery. Why were you here alone? I began to imagine a story about you, that you were a zelandoni testing yourself, a sacred woman answering a call to Serve the Mother. When you didn’t respond to my gross attempts to share Pleasures with you, I thought you were forgoing them as part of your testing. I thought the Clan was a strange group of zelandonii you lived with.”

Ayla had stopped shaking and was listening, but not moving.

“I was only thinking of myself, Ayla.” He hunkered down. “I’m not sure if you’ll believe this, but I, ahhh … I’ve been considered a … an attractive man. Most women have … wanted my attention. I had my choice. I thought you were rejecting me. I’m not used to it, and it hurt my pride, but I wouldn’t admit it. I think that’s why I made up that story about you, so I could give myself a reason why you didn’t seem to want me.

“If I’d been paying attention, I would have known you weren’t an experienced woman rejecting me, but more like a young woman before her First Rites—unsure, and a little scared, and wanting to please. If anyone ought to recognize that, I should—I’ve had … never mind. That doesn’t matter.”

Ayla had let the covers fall back, listening so intensely that she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“All I could see was Ayla the woman. And, believe me, you don’t look like a girl. I thought you were teasing me when you talked of yourself as big and ugly. You weren’t, were you? You really think you are. Maybe to fl … the people who raised you, you were too tall, and different, but Ayla, you need to know, you are not big and ugly. You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She had rolled over and was sitting up. “Beautiful? Me?” she said. Then with a stab of disbelief, she dove back into the furs, afraid of being hurt again. “You’re making fun of me.

He reached over to touch her, then hesitated and pulled his hand back. “I can’t blame you for not believing me. Not after … today. Maybe I should face up to that, and try to explain.

“It’s hard to imagine what you have lived through, orphaned and raised by … people so different. To have a child, and have him taken from you. Made to leave the only home you knew to face a strange world, and to live here alone. That’s more testing than any holy woman would dream of putting herself through. Not many would have survived. You are not only beautiful, Ayla, you’re strong. Inside you’re strong. But you may have to be stronger.

“You need to know how people feel about the ones you call Clan. I thought the same way—people think of them as animals …”

“They are not animals!”

“But I didn’t know, Ayla. Some people hate your Clan. I don’t know why. When I think about it, animals—real animals that are hunted—aren’t hated. Maybe, in their hearts, people know that flatheads—they are called that too, Ayla—are human. But they’re so different. It’s frightening, or maybe threatening. Yet, some men will force flathead women to—I can’t say share Pleasures. That is hardly the word. Maybe your way—‘relieve their needs.’ I can’t understand why, when they talk about them as animals. I don’t know if they are animals, if the spirits can mix and children are born …”

“Are you sure it’s spirits?” she asked. He seemed so certain, she wondered if he might be right.

“Whatever it is, you aren’t the only one, Ayla, to have a child that is a mixture of

human and flathead, though people don’t talk …”

“They’re Clan, and they’re human,” she interrupted.

“You are going to hear that word a lot, Ayla. It’s only fair to tell you. You should also know that for a man to force a Clan woman is one thing—not approved, but overlooked. For a woman to ‘share Pleasures’ with a flathead male is … unforgivable to many people.”

“Abomination?”

Jondalar blanched, but pressed on. “Yes, Ayla. Abomination.”

“I am not abomination!” she flared. “And Durc is not abomination! I did not like what Broud did to me, but it was not abomination. If it had been some other man who did it just to relieve his needs, and not with hatred, I would have accepted it like any Clan woman. There is no shame to being a woman of the Clan. I would have stayed with them, even as Broud’s second woman, if I could have. Just to be near my son. I don’t care how many people do not approve!”

He had to admire her, but it was not going to be easy for her. “Ayla, I’m not saying you should feel shame. I am only telling you what to expect. Perhaps you could say you come from some other people.”

“Jondalar, why do you tell me to say words that are not true? I don’t know how. In the Clan, no one makes untruths—it would be known. It could be seen. Even if one refrains from mentioning something, it is known. It is allowed sometimes, for … courtesy, but it is known. I can see when you say words that are not true. Your face tells me, and your shoulders, and your hands.”

He flushed. Were his lies so apparent? He was glad he had decided to be scrupulously honest with her. Maybe he could learn something from her. Her honesty, her forth-rightness, were part of her inner strength.

“Ayla, you don’t have to learn to lie, but I thought I should tell you these things before I leave.”

Ayla felt a tight knot forming in her stomach, and her throat constricted. He is going to leave. She wanted to dive back into the furs and hide her head again. “I thought you would,” she said. “But you have nothing for traveling. What do you need?”

“If I could have some of your flint, I can make tools, and some spears. And if you will tell me where the clothes are that I was wearing, I’d like to repair them. The haversack should be in good shape, if you brought it from the canyon.”

“What is a haversack?”

“It’s something like a backframe, but worn over one shoulder. There is no word for it in Zelandonii; the Mamutoi use it. Those are Mamutoi clothes I was wearing …”