The Mammoth Hunters

by Jean M. Auel

  “I am not sure, either.” They turned toward the voice of the tattooed shaman. “It’s coming from the mountains in the southeast.” Vincavec was struggling to keep his composure. He was not supposed to show his fears, but it was not easy. “It must be a sign from the Mother.”

  Ayla was sure some terrible catastrophe was happening for the earth to spew forth like that with such force. The dark gray column must have been unbelievably huge to look so large from so far away, and the cloud, roiling and surging angrily, was growing larger. High winds were beginning to push it westward.

  “It’s the milk of Doni’s Breast,” Jondalar said, more matter-of-factly than he felt, using a word from his own language. Everyone was out of the tents now, staring at the terrifying eruption and the huge bloated cloud of seething volcanic ash.

  “What is … that word you said?” Talut said.

  “It’s a mountain, a special kind of mountain that spouts. I saw one when I was very young,” Jondalar said. “We call them the ‘Breasts of the Mother.’ Old Zelandoni told us the legend about them. The one I saw was far away on the high midlands. Later a man who was traveling, and was closer to it, told us what he saw. It was a very exciting story, but he was scared. There were some small earthquakes, then the top of the mountain blew right off. It sent up a big spout like that, and made a black cloud that filled the sky. It’s not like a regular cloud, though. It’s full of a light dust, like ash. That one”—he motioned toward the huge black cloud that was streaming toward the west—“looks like it’s blowing away from us. I hope the wind doesn’t shift. When that ash settles, it covers everything. Sometimes very deep.”

  “It must be far away,” Brecie said. “We can’t even see the mountains from here, and there are no sounds, no roars and rumbles and shaking of the ground. Just that huge spout and the great dark cloud.”

  “That’s why, even if the ash falls around here, it may not be too bad. We’re far enough away.”

  “You said there were earthquakes? Earthquakes are always a sign from the Mother. This must be, too. The mamuti will have to meditate on this, find its meaning,” Vincavec said, not wanting to appear less knowledgeable than the stranger.

  Ayla did not hear much beyond “earthquake.” There was nothing in the world she feared so much as earthquakes. She had lost her family when she was five to a violent rending of the solid earth, and another earthquake had killed Creb when Broud had expelled her from the Clan. Earthquakes had always presaged devastating loss, wrenching change. She kept control of herself only by the thinnest edge.

  Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar movement. The next instant, a streak of gray fur raced toward her, jumped up, and put wet, muddy paws on her chest. She felt the lick of a raspy tongue on her jaw.

  “Wolf! Wolf! What are you doing here?” she said, as she ruffed up his neck. Then she stopped, horror-stricken, and cried out. “Oh, no! It’s Rydag! Wolf has come for me, to take me to Rydag! I must go. I must go immediately!”

  “You’ll have to leave the travois and the horses’ pack loads here, and ride back,” Talut said. The pain in his eyes was evident. Rydag was the son of his hearth just as much as any of Nezzie’s children, and the headman loved him. If he could have, if he wasn’t so big, Ayla would have offered to let him ride Racer and come back with her.

  She ran into the tent to dress and saw Ranec. “It’s Rydag,” she said.

  “I know. I just heard you. Let me help. I’ll put some food and water in your pack. Will you need your bedroll? I’ll pack it, too,” he said, while she was wrapping ties around her boots.

  “Oh, Ranec,” Ayla said. He was so good to her. “How can I thank you!”

  “He’s my brother, Ayla.”

  Of course! she thought. Ranec loves him, too. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking right. Do you want to come back with me? I was thinking of asking Talut, but he’s too big to ride Racer. You could, though.”

  “Me? Get up on a horse? Never!” Ranec said, looking startled and pulling back a little.

  Ayla frowned. She hadn’t realized he felt so strongly about the horses, but now that she thought about it, he was one of the few who had never asked for a ride. She wondered why.

  “I wouldn’t have the first idea how to guide him, and … I’m afraid I’d fall off, Ayla. It’s all right for you, that’s one of the things I love about you, but I’ll never ride a horse,” Ranec said. “I prefer my own two feet. I don’t even like boats.”

  “But someone must go with her. She should not go back alone,” Talut said from just beyond the entrance.

  “She won’t,” Jondalar said. He was dressed in traveling clothes, standing beside Whinney, holding Racer’s bridle.

  Ayla breathed a great sigh of relief, and then frowned. Why was he going with her? He never wanted to go anyplace with her, alone. He didn’t really care about her. She was glad he would be with her, but she wasn’t going to tell him. She had already humiliated herself too many times.

  While she put the carrying bags on Whinney, Ayla noticed Wolf slurping water from Ranec’s dish. He had gobbled down half a plate of meat as well.

  “Thank you for feeding him, Ranec,” she said.

  “Just because I won’t ride a horse doesn’t mean I don’t like the animals, Ayla,” the carver said, feeling diminished. He hadn’t wanted to tell her he was afraid to ride a horse.

  She nodded, and smiled. “I’ll see you when you get to Wolf Camp,” Ayla said. They embraced, and kissed, and Ayla thought he held her to him almost too fervently. She hugged Talut as well, and Brecie, and brushed Vincavec’s cheek, then mounted. The wolf was immediately at Whinney’s heels.

  “I hope Wolf’s not too tired to run back after running all the way here,” Ayla said.

  “If he gets tired, he can ride double with you on Whinney,” Jondalar said, sitting on Racer, trying to keep the nervous stallion calm.

  “That’s right. I’m not thinking,” Ayla said.

  “Take care of her, Jondalar,” Ranec said. “When she’s worried about someone else, she forgets to take care of herself. I want her to be well for our Matrimonial.”

  “I’ll take care of her, Ranec. Don’t worry, you will have a well and healthy woman to bring to your hearth,” Jondalar replied.

  Ayla looked from one to the other. More was being said than the words.

  They traveled steadily until midday, then stopped to rest and lunch on traveling food. Ayla was so deeply worried about Rydag she would have preferred to keep on going, but the horses needed the rest. She wondered if he had sent Wolf for her himself. It seemed likely. Anyone else would send a person. Only Rydag would reason that Wolf was smart enough to understand the message and follow her trail to find her. But he wouldn’t do it, unless it was very important.

  The disturbance to the southeast frightened her. The great column spewing into the sky had stopped, but the cloud was still there, spreading out. The fear of strange earth convulsions was so basic to her, and so deep, that she was in a mild state of shock. Only her overriding fear for Rydag forced her to stay in control of herself.

  But with all her fears, Ayla was strongly conscious of Jondalar. She had almost forgotten how happy it made her feel to be with him. She had dreamed of riding with him on Whinney and Racer, just the two of them together, with Wolf loping alongside. While they rested, she watched him, but surreptitiously, with a Clan woman’s ability to efface herself, to see without being seen. Just looking at him gave her a feeling of warmth and a desire to be closer, but her recent insight into his unexplainable behavior, and her embarrassment over pushing herself on him when she wasn’t wanted, made her reluctant to show her interest. If he didn’t want her, she didn’t want him, or at least, she wasn’t going to let him know that she did.

  Jondalar was watching her, too, wanting to find a way to talk to her, to tell her how much he loved her, to try to win her back. But she seemed to be avoiding him, he couldn’t catch her eye. He knew how upset she was about Rydag—he
feared the worst himself—and didn’t want to intrude on her. He wasn’t sure it was the right time to bring up his personal feelings, and after all this time, he didn’t quite know how to begin. Riding back, he had wild visions of not even stopping at Wolf Camp, of continuing on with her, maybe all the way back to his home. But he knew that was impossible. Rydag needed her, and she was Promised to Ranec. They were going to join. Why should she want to go with him?

  They didn’t rest long. As soon as Ayla thought the horses were rested enough, they started riding again. But they traveled only a short time when they saw someone coming. He hailed from a distance, and when they got closer, they saw it was Ludeg, the messenger who had brought them the new location of the Summer Meeting.

  “Ayla! You’re the one I am looking for. Nezzie sent me to get you. I’m afraid I have bad news for you. Rydag is very sick,” Ludeg said. Then he looked around. “Where is everyone else?”

  “They are coming. We came on ahead as soon as we found out,” Ayla said.

  “But how could you find out? I’m the only runner that was sent,” Ludeg asked.

  “No,” Jondalar said. “You’re the only human runner that was sent, but wolves can run faster.”

  Suddenly Ludeg noticed the young wolf. “He didn’t go hunting with you, how did Wolf get here?”

  “I think Rydag sent him,” Ayla said. “He found us on the other side of the bog.”

  “It’s a good thing, too,” Jondalar added. “You might have missed the hunters. They’ve decided to go around the bog on the way back. It’s easier when you’re heavily loaded to stay on dry ground.”

  “So they found mammoth. Good, that will make everyone happy,” Ludeg said, then he looked at Ayla. “I think you’d better hurry. It’s lucky you’re this close.”

  Ayla felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Would you like a ride back, Ludeg?” Jondalar asked, before they hurried away. “We can ride double.”

  “No. You need to go ahead. You’ve already saved me a long trip. I don’t mind the walk back.”

  Ayla raced Whinney all the way back to the Summer Meeting. She was off the horse and in the tent before anyone knew she was back.

  “Ayla! You’re here! You made it in time. I was afraid he would be gone before you got here,” Nezzie said. “Ludeg must have traveled fast.”

  “It wasn’t Ludeg who found us. It was Wolf,” Ayla said, throwing off her outerwear and rushing to Rydag’s bed.

  She had to close her eyes to overcome the shock for a moment. The set of his jaw and the lines of strain told her more than any words that he was in pain, terrible pain. He was pale, but dark hollows circled his eyes, and his cheekbones and brow ridges protruded in sharp angles. Every breath was an effort and caused more pain. She looked up at Nezzie, who was standing beside the bed.

  “What happened, Nezzie?” She fought to hold back tears, for his sake.

  “I wish I knew. He was fine, then all of a sudden he got this pain. I tried to do everything you told me, gave him the medicine. Nothing helped,” Nezzie said.

  Ayla felt a faint touch on her arm. “I glad you come,” the boy signed.

  Where had she seen that before? That struggle to make signs with a body too weak to move? Iza. That’s how she was when she died. Ayla had just returned from a long trek then, and a long stay at the Clan Gathering. But she just went to hunt mammoth this time. They weren’t gone very long. What happened to Rydag? How did he get so sick so fast? Had it been coming up on him slowly all along?

  “You sent Wolf, didn’t you?” Ayla asked.

  “I know he find,” the boy motioned. “Wolf smart.”

  Rydag closed his eyes then, and Ayla had to turn her head aside, and close her eyes. It hurt to see the way he labored to breathe, to see his pain.

  “When did you last have your medicine?” Ayla asked, when he opened his eyes and she could look at him.

  Rydag shook his head slightly. “Not help. Nothing help.”

  “What do you mean, nothing will help? You’re not a medicine woman. How do you know? I’m the one who knows that,” Ayla said, trying to sound firm and positive.

  He shook his head slightly again. “I know.”

  “Well, I’m going to examine you, but first, I’m going to get you some medicine,” Ayla said, but it was more that she was afraid she would break down right there. He touched her hand as she started to leave.

  “Not go.” He closed his eyes again, and she watched him struggle for one more tortured breath, and then another, powerless to do anything. “Wolf here?” he finally signed.

  Ayla whistled, and whoever it was outside that had been trying to keep Wolf from going in the tent, suddenly found it impossible. He was there, jumping up on the boy’s bed, trying to lick his face. Rydag smiled. It was almost more than Ayla could stand, that smile on a Clan face that was so uniquely Rydag. The rambunctious young animal could be too much. Ayla motioned him down.

  “I send Wolf. Want Ayla,” Rydag motioned again. “I want …”He didn’t seem to know the word in signs.

  “What is it you want, Rydag?” Ayla encouraged.

  “He tried to tell me,” Nezzie said. “But I couldn’t understand him. I hope you can. It seems so important to him.”

  Rydag closed his eyes and wrinkled his brow, and Ayla had the feeling he was trying to remember something.

  “Durc lucky. He … belongs. Ayla, I want … mog-ur.”

  He was trying so hard, and it was taking so much out of him, but all Ayla could do was try to understand. “Mog-ur?” The sign was silent. “You mean a man of the spirit world?” Ayla said, aloud.

  Rydag nodded, encouraged. But the expression on Nezzie’s face was unfathomable. “Is that what he’s been trying to say?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Ayla said. “Does that help?”

  Nezzie nodded, a short, clipped nod of anger. “I know what he wants. He doesn’t want to be an animal, he wants to go to the spirit world. He wants to be buried … like a person.”

  Rydag was nodding now, agreeing.

  “Of course,” Ayla said. “He is a person.” She looked perplexed.

  “No. He’s not. He was never numbered among the Mamutoi. They wouldn’t accept him. They said he was an animal,” Nezzie said.

  “You mean he cannot have a burial? He cannot walk the spirit world? Who says he can’t?” Ayla’s eyes blazed with fury.

  “The Mammoth Hearth,” Nezzie said. “They won’t allow it.”

  “Well, am I not the daughter of the Mammoth Hearth? I will allow it!” Ayla stated.

  “It won’t do any good. Mamut would, too. The Mammoth Hearth has to agree, and they won’t agree,” Nezzie said.

  Rydag had been listening, hopeful, but now his hope was dimming. Ayla saw his expression, his disappointment, and was more angry than she had ever been.

  “The Mammoth Hearth doesn’t have to agree. They are not the ones who decide if someone is human or not. Rydag is a person. He is no more an animal than my son is. The Mammoth Hearth can keep their burial. He doesn’t need it. When the time comes, I will do it, the Clan way, the way I did it for Creb, the Mog-ur. Rydag will walk the world of the spirits, Mammoth Hearth or no!”

  Nezzie glanced at the boy. He seemed more relaxed now. No, she decided. At peace. The strain, the tension, he had been showing was gone. He touched Ayla’s arm.

  “I am not animal,” he signed.

  He seemed about to say something else. Ayla waited. Then suddenly she realized there was no sound, no struggle to take one more tortured breath. He was not in pain any more.

  But Ayla was. She looked up and saw Jondalar. He had been there all along, and his face was as racked with grief as hers, or Nezzie’s. Suddenly all three of them were clinging together, trying to find solace in each other.

  Then another showed his grief. From the floor beneath Rydag’s bed, a low whine rose in a furry throat, then yips that extended and deepened and soared into Wolf’s first full, ringing howl.
When his breath ran out, he began again, crying out his loss in the sonorous, eerie, spine-tingling, unmistakable tones of wolfsong. People gathered at the entrance of the tent to look, but were hesitant to enter. Even the three who were awash in their own sorrow paused to listen and wonder. Jondalar thought to himself that animal or human, no one could ask for a more poignant or awesome elegy.

  After the first racking tears of grief were spent, Ayla sat beside the small thin body, unmoving, but her tears had not stopped. She stared into space, silently remembering her life with the Clan, and her son, and the first time she saw Rydag. She loved Rydag. He had come to mean as much to her as Durc and, in a certain way, stood in for him. Even though her son had been taken from her, Rydag had given her an opportunity to know more about him, to learn how he might be growing and maturing, how he might look, how he might think. When she smiled at Rydag’s gentle humor, or was pleased at his perceptiveness and intelligence, she could imagine that Durc had the same kind of understanding. Now Rydag was gone, and her tenuous link to Durc was gone. Her grief was for both.

  Nezzie’s grief was not less, but the needs of the living were important, too. Rugie climbed up on her lap, hurt and confused that her playmate, and friend, and brother, couldn’t play any more, couldn’t even make words with his hands. Danug was stretched out full-length on his bed, his head buried under a cover, sobbing, and someone had to go and tell Latie.

  “Ayla? Ayla,” Nezzie finally said. “What do we have to do to bury him in the Clan way? We need to start getting him ready.”

  It took Ayla a moment to comprehend that someone was talking to her. She frowned, and focused on Nezzie. “What?”

  “We have to get him ready for burial. What do we have to do? I don’t know anything about Clan burials.”

  No, none of the Mamutoi did, she thought. Especially the Mammoth Hearth. But she did. She thought about the Clan burials she had seen and considered what should be done for Rydag. Before he can be buried in the Clan way, he has to be Clan. That means he has to be named, and he needs an amulet with a piece of red ochre in it. Suddenly, Ayla got up and rushed out.