“I was just going to Marthona’s to look for you,” she said.
“I woke up with an urge to work the stone I got from Dalanar’s flint mine, to make some new tools,” he said, holding up his familiar leather bundle. “But it looks like everyone wanted to work on something this morning.” He glanced toward the crowded and busy work space. “I don’t think I’ll stay here.”
“Where will you go to work?” Ayla asked. “I thought I’d see to the horses, but I might come by later and watch.”
“I think I’ll go Down River. There are usually a lot of toolmakers there,” he said. Then, thinking about it, he added, “Do you want me to help you with the horses?”
“Not unless you want to,” Ayla said. “I’m just going to check on them. I don’t think I’ll ride today, but I may take Folara with me and see if she wants to try sitting on Whinney. I told her she could sometime, and she said she’d like to.”
“It might be fun to see how she does, but I really would like to work on some tools today,” Jondalar said.
They walked together as far as the working area, then Jondalar went on toward Down River, while Ayla and the wolf stopped to look for Folara. The drizzle had turned to a steady rain, and while she waited for it to let up, she found herself watching first one person and then another as they worked on their various projects. She had always been fascinated with different crafts and skills and was easily distracted. It was a busy but relaxed atmosphere. Certain aspects of every craft required intense concentration, but repetitive elements allowed time to chat and visit. Most people were pleased to answer her questions, show her their techniques, and explain their methods.
When Ayla saw Folara, she was in the middle of stringing a loom with Marthona and not able to come to a good stopping place easily, though she would have liked to go. Ayla wouldn’t have minded staying to see how the stringing was done, but she felt the horses needed attention. She promised Folara they would visit the horses another time, and when the rain let up, she decided to go out before it started again.
Whinney and Racer were in fine fettle and delighted to see her and Wolf when she found them, quite a distance back in Wood River Valley. They had discovered a small green meadow in the middle of the forested glen, with a clear spring that had formed a pond and a place under some trees to stand when it rained. The red deer that were sharing it with them broke away at the sight of the woman and the wolf at the same time that the horses neighed and ran toward them.
Those deer have been hunted, Ayla thought. They might have stopped and eyed Wolf, but it’s not likely that full-grown deer in their prime would run from a single wolf. The wind is taking my scent right to them, and I think they have found more to fear from human hunters.
The sun had come out, and she found some of the previous year’s dried flower heads of teasel and used the prickly herb top to curry the horses’ coats. When she was done, she noticed Wolf stalking. She reached for her sling, which was tucked into her waist thong, and a pebble from the rocky edge of the pond, and when he scared up a couple of hares, she got one of the large rabbits with her first try. She let Wolf get the other.
A cloud cast a shadow over the sun. She looked up and noticed the placement of the sun in the sky, and realized that the time had passed quickly. Things had been so busy the past few days, she felt good having no demands on her or her time. But when it started to sprinkle, she decided to ride Whinney back to the Ninth Cave. Racer and Wolf followed. She was glad she had when the rain came down in earnest just as she arrived at the shelter. She led the horses up to the stone front porch and walked them past the living area and down toward the more unused area.
She passed by some men sitting around a fire, and though she didn’t recognize the game, from their actions, she guessed they were gambling. They stopped and watched her as she walked by. She thought they were very rude to stare at her the way they did, and she made a point of showing better manners by avoiding looking at them. But she did have the Clan woman’s skill of glancing unobtrusively yet taking in a great deal of information with quick glimpses. She noticed that they were making comments to each other, and she thought she smelled barma.
Farther on, she saw some people in various stages of curing hides, both bison and deer. They probably found the usual work area too crowded, too, she thought. She brought the horses almost to the end of the ledge, near the small stream that separated the Ninth Cave from Down River, and thought that it could be a good place to build a shelter for them before winter. She’d have to talk to Jondalar about it. Then she showed them the trail that led down to the bank of The River and left them to see what they would decide to do. Wolf decided to go with the horses when they started down the trail. Raining or not, they preferred grazing near The River to staying up on the barren ledge just to keep dry.
She thought about going on to see Jondalar, then changed her mind and went back to where they were working on hides. People were glad for an excuse to take a break, and for some of them to talk to the woman that a wolf followed and from whom horses didn’t run away. She noticed that Portula was there. The young woman smiled at Ayla, still trying to make friends. She seemed genuinely sorry for her part in Marona’s trick.
Ayla had been wanting to make some clothing for Jondalar, herself, and the expected baby, and remembered that she had killed a young giant deer buck. She wondered where it was, but while she was here she decided she could at least skin the hare that was hanging from her waist thong to make something for the baby.
“If there’s room, I’d like to skin this hare quickly,” Ayla said to the group in general.
“There’s plenty of room,” Portula said. “And I’d be glad to let you use some of my tools, if you need them.”
“I would, Portula, thank you for offering. I do have many tools, I live with Jondalar, after all,” Ayla said with a wry smile. Several people smiled back knowingly. “But I don’t have them with me.”
Ayla liked the feeling of having people around her all busily engaged in tasks at which they were skilled. What a difference from the lonely days in her cave in the valley. This was more like her childhood in Brun’s clan with everyone working together.
She quickly gutted and skinned the hare, then asked, “Do you mind if I leave these here for now? I need to go Down River. I’ll pick them up on my way back.”
“I’ll watch them,” Portula said. “If you want, I’ll take them back with me when I go, if you’re not back yet.”
“Tha
t would be very nice of you,” Ayla said. She was warming to the young woman, who was obviously trying hard to be friendly. “I’ll be back later,” Ayla said as she left.
After she walked up the log bridge that crossed the creek, she saw Jondalar with several others under the shelter of the first abri. The place had obviously been used to knap flint for a long time. The ground was thick with the sharp-edged chips and flakes left from the process of knapping flint. It would not be wise to walk there with bare feet.
“There you are,” Jondalar said. “We were just getting ready to go back. Joharran was here and said Proleva has organized a meal using meat from one of the bison. She does that so well and so often, people are going to get too used to it, I’m afraid. But everybody has been busy today, and she decided it would be easier. You can walk back with us, Ayla.”
“I didn’t realize it was so close to midday,” she said. As they started toward the Ninth Cave, Ayla saw Joharran ahead of them. She hadn’t seen him coming this way. He must have passed by me when I was talking to Portula and the others, and skinning that hare, she thought. She noticed him heading toward the rude men who were sitting around the fire.
Joharran had seen Laramar and some others, gambling, when he was hurrying to tell the craftspeople at Down River about the meal that Proleva had arranged. He recalled thinking how lazy they were, gaming while everyone else was busy, probably using wood someone else had collected, but when he saw them on the way back, he decided he ought to tell them, too. They were members of the Ninth Cave, even if they didn’t contribute much.
The men were deep in conversation when he approached and didn’t see him coming. As he drew near, he overheard one of them saying, “ … What can you expect from someone who says she learned how to heal from flatheads? What can those animals know about healing?”
“That woman is no healer. Shevonar died, didn’t he?” Laramar agreed.