The Mammoth Hunters (Earth's Children 3)

“I don’t know, but you can ask, can’t you?”

It was midmorning when Talut stepped out of the longhouse, and noticed Ayla and Jondalar leading the horses away from the Camp. There was no snow, but early morning hoarfrost still lingered in patches of crystal white, and their heads were wreathed in steam with each breath. Static crinkled in the dry freezing air. The woman and man were dressed for the cold in fur parkas with hoods pulled tight around their faces, and fur leggings which were tucked into footwear that was wrapped around the lower edge of the trousers and tied.

“Jondalar! Ayla! Are you leaving?” he called, hurrying to catch up with them.

Ayla nodded an affirmative reply, which made Talut lose his smile, but Jondalar explained, “We’re just going to give the horses some exercise. We’ll be back after noon.”

He neglected to mention that they were also looking for some privacy, a place to be alone for a while to discuss, without interruption, whether to go back to Ayla’s valley. Or rather, in Jondalar’s mind, to talk Ayla out of wanting to go.

“Good. I’d like to arrange for some practice sessions with those spear-throwers, when the weather clears. I’d like to see how they work and what I could do with one,” Talut said.

“I think you might be surprised,” Jondalar replied, smiling, “at how well they work.”

“Not by themselves. I’m sure they work well for either of you, but it takes some skill, and there may not be much time for practice before spring.” Talut paused, considering.

Ayla waited, her hand on the mare’s withers, just below her short, stiff mane. A heavy fur mitten dangled by a cord out of the sleeve of her parka. The cord was drawn up through the sleeve, through a loop at the back of the neck, down the other sleeve, and attached to the other mitten. With the cord attached to them, if the dexterity of a bare hand was needed, the mittens could be pulled off quickly, without fear of losing them. In a land of such deep cold and strong winds, a lost mitten could mean a lost hand, or a lost life. The young horse was snorting and prancing with excitement, and bumped against Jondalar impatiently. They seemed anxious to be on their way, and were waiting for him to finish only out of courtesy, Talut knew. He decided to plunge ahead anyway.

“Nezzie was talking to me last night, and this morning I spoke to some others. It would be helpful to have someone around to show us how to use those hunting weapons.”

“Your hospitality has been more than generous. You know I would be happy to show anyone how to use the spear-thrower. It is small enough thanks for all you have done,” Jondalar said.

Talut nodded, then went on, “Wymez tells me you are a fine flint knapper, Jondalar. The Mamutoi can always use someone who can produce good-quality tools. And Ayla has many skills that would benefit any Camp. She is not only proficient with the spear-thrower and that sling of hers—you were right”—he turned from Jondalar to Ayla—“she is a Healer. We would like you to stay.”

“I was hoping we might winter with you, Talut, and I appreciate your offer, but I’m not sure how Ayla feels about it,” Jondalar replied, smiling, feeling that Talut’s offer couldn’t have come at a better time. How could she leave now? Certainly Talut’s offer meant more than Frebec’s nastiness.

Talut continued, addressing his remarks to the young woman. “Ayla, you have no people now, and Jondalar lives far away, perhaps farther than he cares to travel if he can find a home here. We would like you both to stay, not only through the winter, but always. I invite you to become one of us, and I speak for more than myself. Tulie and Barzec would be willing to adopt Jondalar to the Aurochs Hearth, and Nezzie and I want you to become a daughter of the Lion Hearth. Since Tulie is headwoman, and I am headman, that would give you a high standing among the Mamutoi.”

“You mean, you want to adopt us? You want us to become Mamutoi?” Jondalar blurted, a little stunned, and flushed with surprise.

“You want me? You want adopt me?” Ayla asked. She had been listening to the conversation, frowning with concentration, not entirely sure she believed what she was hearing. “You want make Ayla of No People, Ayla of the Mamutoi?”

The big man smiled. “Yes.”

Jondalar was at a loss for words. Hospitality to guests might be a matter of custom, and of pride, but no people made a custom of asking strangers to join their tribe, their family, without serious consideration.

“I … uh … don’t know … what to say,” he said. “I am very honored. It is a great compliment to be asked.”

“I know you need some time to think about it. Both of you,” Talut said. “I would be surprised if you didn’t. We haven’t mentioned it to everyone, and the whole Camp must agree, but that shouldn’t be a problem with all you bring, and Tulie and I both speaking for you. I wanted to ask you first. If you agree, I will call a meeting.”

They silently watched the big headman walk back to the earthlodge. They had planned to find a place to talk, each hoping to resolve problems that they felt had begun to arise between them. Talut’s unexpected invitation had added an entirely new dimension to their thoughts, to the decisions they needed to make, indeed, to their lives. Without saying a word, Ayla mounted Whinney and Jondalar got on behind her. With Racer following along, they started out up the slope and across the open countryside, each lost in thought.

Ayla was moved beyond words by Talut’s offer. When she lived with the Clan, she had often felt alienated, but it was nothing to the aching emptiness, the desperate loneliness she had known without them. From the time she left the Clan until Jondalar came, hardly more than a season before, she had been alone. She’d had no one, no sense of belonging, no home, no family, no people, and she knew she would never see her clan again. Because of the earthquake that left her orphaned, before she was found by the Clan, the earthquake on the day she was expelled gave her separation a profound sense of finality.

Underlying her feeling was a deep elemental fear, a combination of the primordial terror of heaving earth and the convulsive grief of a small girl who had lost everything, even her memory of those to whom she had belonged. There was nothing Ayla feared more than wrenching earth movements. They always seemed to signal changes in her life as abrupt and violent as the changes they wrought on the land. It was almost as though the earth itself was telling her what to expect … or shuddering in sympathy.

But after the first time she lost everything, the Clan

had become her people. Now, if she chose, she could have people again. She could become Mamutoi; she would not be alone.

But what about Jondalar? How could she choose a people different from his? Would he want to stay and become Mamutoi? Ayla doubted it. She was sure he wanted to return to his own home. But he had been afraid all of the Others would behave toward her as Frebec did. He didn’t want her to speak of the Clan. What if she went with him and they would not accept her? Maybe his people were all like Frebec. She would not refrain from mentioning them, as though Iza, and Creb, and Brun, and her son, were people she should be ashamed of. She would not be ashamed of the people she loved!

Did she want to go to his home and risk being treated like an animal? Or did she want to stay here where she was wanted, and accepted? The Lion Camp had even taken in a mixed child, a boy like her son.… Suddenly a thought struck her. If they had taken in one, might they take another? One who was not weak or sickly? One who could learn to talk? Mamutoi territory extended all the way to Beran Sea. Didn’t Talut say someone had a Willow Camp there? The peninsula where the Clan lived was not far beyond. If she became one of the Mamutoi, maybe, someday, she could … But what about Jondalar? What if he left? Ayla felt a deep ache in the pit of her stomach at the thought. Could she bear to live without Jondalar? she wondered, as she wrestled with mixed feelings.

Jondalar struggled with conflicting desires, too. He hardly considered the offer made to him, except that he wanted to find a reason to refuse that would not offend Talut and the Mamutoi. He was Jondalar of the Zelandonii, and he knew his brother had been right. He could never be anything else. He wanted to go home, but it was a nagging ache rather than a great urgency. It was impossible to think in any other terms. His home was so far away, it would take a year just to travel the distance.

His mental turmoil was about Ayla. Though he’d never lacked for willing partners, most of whom would have been more than willing to form a more lasting tie, he’d never found a woman the way he wanted Ayla. None of the women among his own people, and none of the women he met on his travels, had been able to cause in him that state he had seen in others, but had not felt himself, until he met her. He loved her more than he thought was possible. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, and more. He could not bear the thought of living without her.

But he also knew what it was like to bring disgrace upon himself. And the very qualities that attracted him—her combination of innocence and wisdom, of honesty and mystery, of self-confidence and vulnerability—were the result of the same circumstances that could cause him to feel the pain of disgrace and exile again.