Plains of Passage (34 page)

By the time Ayla and Jondalar got into their bedroll, the incessant song of the frogs had faded into the background of familiar sounds, but the anticipated wolf howls, when they finally were heard in the distance, still gave Ayla chills. Wolf sat up and answered their call.

“I wonder if he misses a wolf pack?” Jondalar said, putting his arm around Ayla. She cuddled against him, glad for his warmth and closeness.

“I don’t know, but I worry, sometimes. Baby left me to find his mate, but male lions always leave their home territories to look for mates from another pride.”

“Do you think Racer will want to leave us?” the man asked.

“Whinney did for a while and lived with a herd. I’m not sure how the other mares took to her, but she came back after her stallion died. Not all male horses live with female herds. Each herd only chooses one, and then he has to fight off the other males. The young stallions, and older ones, usually live together in their own herd, but they are all drawn to the mares when it is their season to share Pleasures. I’m sure Racer will be, too, but he would have to fight with the chosen stallion,” Ayla explained.

“Maybe I can keep him on a lead rope during that time,” Jondalar said.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry for a while. It is usually in spring that horses share Pleasures, soon after they drop their foals. I’m more worried about the people we may meet on our Journey. They don’t understand that Whinney and Racer are special. Someone may try to hurt them. They don’t seem very willing to accept us, either.”

As Ayla lay in Jondalar’s arms, she wondered what his people would think of her. He noticed that she was quiet and pensive. He kissed her, but she did not seem as responsive as usual. Perhaps she was tired, he thought, it had been a full day. He was tired, himself. He fell asleep listening to the chorus of frogs. He woke up to the thrashing and calling out of the woman in his arms.

“Ayla! Ayla! Wake up! It’s all right.”

“Jondalar! Oh, Jondalar,” Ayla cried, clinging to him. “I was dreaming … about the Clan. Creb was trying to tell me something important,
but we were deep in a cave and it was dark. I couldn’t see what he was saying.”

“You were probably thinking about them today. You talked about them when we were on that large island looking at the sea. I thought you seemed upset. Were you thinking that you were leaving them behind?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and nodded, not sure if she could voice the words without tears, and she hesitated to mention her concerns about his people, whether they would accept not only her, but the horses, and Wolf. The Clan and her son had been lost to her, she did not want to lose her family of animals, too, if they managed to reach his home safely with them. She only wished she knew what Creb had been trying to tell her in her dream.

Jondalar held her, comforting her with his warmth and love, understanding her sorrow but not knowing what to say. His closeness was enough.

T
he northern arm of the Great Mother River, with its meandering network of channels, was the winding, twisting upper boundary of the extensive delta. Brush and trees hovered close to the outer edge of the river, but beyond the narrow border, away from the immediate source of moisture, the woody vegetation quickly gave way to steppe grasses. Riding almost due west through the dry grassland, close to the wooded strip but avoiding the sinuous turns of the river, Ayla and Jondalar followed the left bank upstream.

They ventured into the marshy wetlands frequently, usually making camp close to the river, and they were often astonished by the diversity they found. The massive river mouth had seemed so uniform in the distance when they had viewed it from the large island, but at close hand it revealed a wide range of landscapes and vegetation, from bare sand to dense forest.

One day they rode past fields upon fields of cattails, with brown flowerheads bunched into the shape of sausages, topped by spikes covered with masses of yellow pollen. The next, they saw vast beds of tall phragmite reeds, more than twice Jondalar’s height, growing together with the shorter, more graceful variety; the slender plants grew nearer the water and were more densely packed together.

The islands formed by the deposition of suspended silt, usually long, narrow tongues of land made up of sand and clay, were buffeted by the waters of the surging river and the conflicting currents of the sea. The result was a variegated mosaic of reed beds, wetlands, steppes, and forests in many different stages of development, all subject to rapid change and full of surprises. The shifting diversity extended even beyond the boundary. The travelers unexpectedly came upon oxbow lakes that were completely cut off from the delta, between banks that had begun as isles of sedimentation in the river.

Most islands were originally stabilized by beach plants and giant lyme grass that reached nearly five feet, which the horses loved—the high salt content attracted many other grazing animals as well. But the landscape could change so rapidly that they sometimes found islands, within the confines of the immense mouth of the river, with beach
plants still surviving on inland dunes beside fully mature woods, complete with trailing lianas.

As the woman and man traveled beside the great river, they often had to cross small tributaries, but the running streams were hardly noticeable as the horses splashed through them, and the small rivers were not difficult to negotiate. The wet lowlands of slowly drying channels that had changed course were another matter. Jondalar usually detoured around them. He was acutely aware of the danger of swampy fens and the soft silty soil that often formed in such places, because of the bad experience he and his brother had had when they had come that way before. But he didn’t know the dangers that were sometimes hidden by rich greenery.

It had been a long, hot day. Jondalar and Ayla, looking for a place to camp for the night, had turned toward the river and saw what appeared to be a likely possibility. They headed down a slope toward a cool, inviting glen with tall sallows shading a particularly green lea. Suddenly a large brown hare bounded into view on the other side of the field. Ayla urged Whinney on as she reached for the sling at her waist, but as they started across the green, the horse hesitated when the solid earth beneath her hooves became spongy.

The woman felt the change of pace almost immediately, and it was fortunate that her first instinctive reaction was to follow the mare’s lead, even though her mind was on securing dinner. She pulled up short just as Jondalar and Racer came pounding up. The stallion, too, noticed the softer ground, but his momentum was greater, and it carried him a few steps farther.

The man was almost thrown as Racer’s front feet sank into a slurry of thick, silty mud, but he caught himself and jumped down alongside the horse. With a sharp whinny and a wrenching twist, the young stallion, his hind legs still on solid ground, managed to pull one leg out of the sucking morass. Stepping back and finding firmer support, Racer pulled until his other foot was suddenly released from the quicksand with a slurping pop.

The young horse was shaken, and the man paused to lay a calming hand on his arching neck, then he twisted off a branch from a nearby bush and used it to prod the ground ahead. When that was swallowed, he took the third long pole, which was not used for the travois, and explored with it. Though covered with reeds and sedge, the small field turned out to be a deep sinkhole of waterlogged clay and silt. The horses’ agile retreat had averted a possible disaster, but they approached the Great Mother River with more caution from then on. Her capricious diversity could hold some unwelcome surprises.

Birds continued to be the dominant wildlife of the delta, particularly
several varieties of herons, egrets, and ducks, with large numbers of pelicans, swans, geese, cranes, and some black storks and colorful glossy ibises nesting in trees. Nesting seasons varied with species, but all of them had to reproduce during the warmer times of year. The travelers collected eggs from all the different birds for quick and easy meals—even Wolf discovered the trick of cracking shells—and developed a taste for some of the mildly fishy flavored varieties.

After a time they became accustomed to the birds of the delta. There were fewer surprises as they began to know what to expect, but one evening, as they were riding close to silvery sallow woods beside the river, they came upon a stunning scene. The trees opened up on a large lagoon, almost a lake, though at first they thought it was a firmer landscape, since large water-lily plants covered it completely. The sight that had arrested their attention was hundreds of the smaller squacco herons, standing—long necks curved into an S and long beaks poised to stab at fish—on nearly every single one of the sturdy lily pads that surrounded each fragrant blooming white flower.

Beguiled, they watched for a while, then decided to leave, afraid that Wolf might come bounding up and frighten the birds off their roosts. They were a short distance beyond the place, setting up their camp, when they saw hundreds of the long-necked herons climbing into the air. Jondalar and Ayla stopped and gazed at the sight as the birds, flapping large wings, became dark silhouettes against the pink clouds of the eastern sky. The wolf came loping into camp then, and Ayla supposed he had routed them. Though he made no real attempt to catch any, he had such fun chasing the flocks of marsh birds that she wondered if he did it because he enjoyed watching them lift into the air. She was certainly awed by the sight.

   Ayla woke the next morning feeling hot and sticky. The heat was already gathering force, and she didn’t want to get up. She wished they could just relax for a day. It wasn’t so much that she was tired, just tired of traveling. Even the horses need a rest, she thought. Jondalar had been pushing to keep going, and she could sense the need that was driving him, but if one day would make that much difference in crossing the glacier he kept talking about, then they were already too late. They would need more than one sure day of the right kind of weather to be certain of safe travel. But when he got up and started packing, she did, too.

As the morning progressed, the heat and humidity, even on the open plain, were becoming oppressive, and when Jondalar suggested that they stop for a swim, Ayla instantly agreed. They turned toward the river and welcomed the sight of a shaded clearing that opened to the water. A seasonal streambed that was still slightly soggy and filled with
decaying leaves left only a small patch of grass, but it created a cool, inviting pocket surrounded by pines and willows. It led to a muddy backwater ditch, but a short distance beyond, at a bend in the river, a narrow, pebbly beach jutted into a quiet pool, dappled with sun filtering through overhanging willows.

“This is perfect!” Ayla said with a big smile.

As she started to unhitch the travois, Jondalar asked, “Do you really think that’s necessary? We won’t be here long.”

“The horses need a rest, too, and they might like to have a good roll or a swim,” she said, removing the pack baskets and riding blanket from Whinney. “And I’d like to wait for Wolf to catch up with us. I haven’t seen him all morning. He must have caught the scent of something wonderful that’s giving him a good chase.”

“All right,” Jondalar said, and he started untying the thongs of Racer’s pack baskets. He put them into the bowl boat beside Ayla’s and gave the stallion a friendly slap on the rump, to let him know that he was free to follow his dam.

The young woman quickly shed her few garments and waded into the pool, while Jondalar stopped to pass his water. He glanced up at her, then couldn’t look away. She was standing in shimmering water up to her knees, in a beam of sunlight coming through an opening in the trees, bathing in brilliance that lighted her hair into a golden halo, and gleamed off the bare tanned skin of her supple body.

Watching her, Jondalar was struck again by her beauty. For a moment, his strong feelings of love for her overpowered him, seeming to catch in his throat. She bent down to lift a double handful of water to splash down on herself, accenting the rounded fullness of her backside and exposing the paler skin of her inner thigh, and sending a flush of heat and wanting through him. He looked down at the member he was still holding in his hand and smiled, beginning to think of more than swimming.

She looked at him as he started into the water, saw his smile, and a familiar, compelling look in his intense blue eyes, then noticed the shape of his manhood changing. She felt a deep stirring in response; then she relaxed and a tension she didn’t realize was there, drained away. They were not going to travel any more today, not if she could help it. They both needed a change of pace, a pleasantly exciting diversion.

He had noticed her eyes glance down at him, and at some level noted the welcome response and a slight change in her posture. Without really changing position, her stance became somehow more inviting. His reaction was obvious. He could not have hidden it if he’d wanted to.

“The water is wonderful,” she said. “It was a good idea you had, to go swimming. It was getting so hot.”

“Yes, I’m feeling a heat,” he said, with a wry grin as he waded toward her. “I don’t know how you do it, but I have no control around you.”

“Why would you want to? I don’t have any around you. You just have to look at me that way, and I’m ready for you.” She smiled, the big beautiful smile that he loved.

“Oh, woman,” he breathed as he took her in his arms. She reached up for him as he bent down to touch her soft lips with his in a firm, unhurried kiss. He ran his hands down her back, feeling her sun-warmed skin. She loved his touch and responded to his caress with an instant and surprising anticipation.

He reached lower, to her smooth rounded mounds, and pulled her toward him. She felt the full length of his warm hardness against her stomach, but the movement had unbalanced her. She tried to catch herself, but a stone gave way beneath her foot. She clutched at him for support, unbalancing him as his footing gave away. They fell into the water with a splash, then sat up, laughing.