by Jean M. Auel
Racer had a rope halter; it was the way Jondalar had trained the stallion, though he'd had to invent both the device to hold the stallion's head and the signals to tell the horse where he wanted to go. He also felt free in a way that he hadn't for a long time. It had been a long Journey, and the responsibility of getting them home safely had weighed heavily on him. That weight was gone, along with his traveling packs, and riding the horse was nothing short of fun. They both felt exhilarated, excited, unaccountably pleased with themselves, and they showed it with their delighted smiles as they walked along the stream a few paces.
"That was a good idea, Ayla, going for a ride," Jondalar said, grinning at her.
"I think so, too," she said, smiling back the way that he always loved.
"Oh, woman, you are so beautiful," he said, putting his arms around her waist and looking down at her with his intensely blue and vibrant eyes showing all his love and happiness. The only place she had ever seen a color to match his eyes was on top of a glacier in the deep wells of meltwater.
"You are beautiful, Jondalar. I know you say that men are not called beautiful, but you are to me, you know." She put her arms around his neck, feeling the full force of the natural charisma that few could resist.
"You can call me anything you want," he said as he bent down to kiss her, and suddenly hoped it would not stop there. They had grown accustomed to their privacy, to being alone in the middle of the open landscape, away from curious eyes. He was going to have to get used to being around so many people again… but not just now.
His tongue gently prodded her mouth open, then reached for the softness and warmth inside. She explored his in return, closing her eyes to let herself feel the sensations he was already beginning to arouse. He held her close, enjoying the feel of her body next to his. And soon, he was thinking, they would have the ceremony to join together and form a hearth to which she would bring her children, the children of his hearth, perhaps the children of his spirit, and, if she was right, even more than that. They might even be his children, the children of his body, started with his essence. The same essence he could feel rising in him now.
He pulled back and looked at her, then with more urgency kissed her neck, tasted the salt on her skin, and reached for her breast. It was fuller, he could feel the difference already; soon it would be full of milk. He untied the belt around her waist, reached inside to hold the firm round weight, and felt the hard erect nipple in his palm.
He lifted her top and she helped him pull it off, and then she stepped out of her short pants. For a moment, he just looked at her standing in the sun, and filled his eyes with the womanliness of her: the beauty of her smiling face, the firm muscularity of her body, the large, high breasts and proud nipples, the slight rounding of her stomach, the dark blond hair of her mound. He loved her so much, wanted her so much, tears came to his eyes…
Quickly, he unfastened his own clothing and laid them out on the grass. She took a few paces toward him, and when he stood up, she reached for him as he enfolded her in his arms. She closed her eyes as he kissed her mouth, and her neck and throat, and when he filled his hands with her breasts, she filled hers with his rearing manhood. He dropped to his knees, tasting the salt of the skin of her neck and running his tongue from her throat to her cleavage, holding both breasts, and then as she bent over slightly, he took a nipple in his mouth.
She held her breath, feeling the jolt of excitement reach all the way to her place of Pleasures inside, and another when he changed to the other nipple and suckled hard, while he massaged the first with his knowing fingers. Then he pressed her breasts together to get both in his mouth at once. She moaned and gave herself up to the sensations.
He traced each hard, eager nipple again and dropped lower, to her navel, then to her mound, flicked his warm tongue into her slit, and tickled the small knob within. Fierce sensations raced through her as she arced toward him and a cry escaped her lips. With his arms wrapped around her rounded bottom, he pulled her toward him pushing his tongue in and out of her slit over her hard nodule.
Standing there, her hands on his arms, her breath coming in short moaning gasps as she felt every warm stroke, she felt the tide rise inside her, pressing against her until suddenly it released with a spasm, and another, and another of delight. He felt the warmth and wetness, and savored the taste that was distinctly Ayla.
She opened her eyes and looked down at his mischievous smile. "You caught me by surprise," she said.
"I know," he said, grinning.
"It's my turn now," she said with a laugh, giving him a little shove that toppled him over. She covered him with herself and kissed him, noting the slight taste of herself. Then she nibbled his ear and kissed his neck and his throat, while he smiled with delight. He loved it when she had fun with him and joined him in playfulness when they felt in that mood.
She was kissing his chest and his nipples, and running her tongue through his hair and to his navel, and then lower still until she found his full, ready member. He closed his eyes when he felt her warm mouth cover him, letting the feeling fill him as she moved up and down, creating suction along the way. He had taught her, ash e had been taught, the ways to please each other. For a moment he thought of Zelandoni, when she was young and known as Zolena, remembering when he thought he'd never find a woman like her. But he had, and suddenly he was so overwhelmed, he sent a thought of gratitude to the Great Earth Mother. What would he do if he ever lost Ayla?
His mood suddenly changed. He had enjoyed being playful, but now he wanted the woman. He sat up, pulled her up on her knees to face him, and sat her on his lap with her legs on either side of him. He took her in his arms and kissed her with an intensity that surprised her, then held her tight. She didn't know what had changed his mood, but her love for him was as strong and she responded in kind.
Then he was kissing her shoulders and neck, and caressing her breasts. She felt his need upon him so hard, it almost raised her up. He was nuzzling her breasts, trying to find her nipples. She lifted up a bit, arched her back, and felt the sensations race through her as he suckled and nibbled. She felt his hard, fiery rod under her and raised up a little higher, and without thinking, she found herself guiding him into her.
It was almost more than he could bear as she lowered herself on him, taking him into her warm, wet, eager embrace. She lifted again, leaned back, while he held her close with one arm to keep one nipple in his mouth while he massaged her other one, as though he couldn't quite get enough of her full womanness.
She was guiding herself on him, feeling the Pleasure fill her with every stroke, breathing hard and crying out. Suddenly the need was stronger upon him, building with each lift and plunge. He let go of her breasts, leaned back on his hands, and raised up, lowered, and raised again. Both cried out as waves of intense Pleasure grew with each thrust, until with a glorious flood of shuddering release, they peaked in a culmination of delight.
A few more strokes and he lay back on the grass, felt a small stone under his shoulder and ignored it. Ayla lay forward, on top of him, her head resting on his chest, and stayed there for a while. Finally she sat up again. He smiled at her as she rose up and disengaged. He would have liked to stay close longer, but they did have to get back. She walked the few feet to the small stream and squatted down to rinse off. Jondalar rinsed off as well.
"We are going to be swimming and washing as soon as we get there," he said.
"I know. That's why I'm not being too careful."
For Ayla, cleansing herself, if it was at all possible, was a ritual taught to her by Iza, her Clan mother, though the woman had wondered if her strange daughter, so tall and unattractive, would ever have reason to use it. Because Ayla was so meticulous about it, even using freezing icy streams, it had become a habit for Jondalar as well, though he hadn't always been so fastidious.
When she went to get her clothes, Wolf approached her, head lowered and tail wagging. When he was young, she'd had to train him to stay away fro
m them when they shared Pleasures on their Journey. It had annoyed Jondalar to have the wolf bother them, and she hadn't liked being interrupted, either. When it wasn't enough to tell Wolf, quite forcefully, to go away when he came sniffing around to see what they were doing, Ayla had been required to tie a rope around his neck to keep him away, sometimes quite a distance away. Eventually he had learned, but he always approached her cautiously afterward until she signaled him that it was all right.
The horses, patiently grazing nearby, came at their whistles. They rode to the edge of the plateau and stopped again to look down at the valleys of the primary river and its tributary, and the complement of limestone cliffs that paralleled their courses. From the high field they could see the confluence of the small river flowing from the northwest and the main stream as it approached from the east. The smaller river flowed into the primary just before the larger river turned south, while it was still moving down a west-flowing section of its course. To the south, at the end of a series of cliffs, they saw the geologic block of limestone that contained the tremendous overhanging ledge of the Ninth Cave, with its long front terrace. But as Ayla looked down at the home of the Ninth Cave, it was not the remarkable size of its overhanging shelter that held her attention, but another most unusual formation.
Long before, during a formative orogeny, a period of mountain building when impressive peaks were folded and raised at the leisurely pace of geologic time, a pillar of igneous rock broke away from the place of its volcanic birth and fell into a stream. The wall of stone from which the pillar had come had taken the shape of its crystal structure as fiery magma cooled into basalt, forming itself into great columns with flat sides meeting at angles.
As the rock that broke loose was moved along, pushed by torrential floods and dragged by glacial ice, the columnar piece of basalt, though bashed and battered, retained its basic shape. The pillar of stone was eventually deposited on the floor of an inland sea, along with deep layers of accumulated sediments of marine life that were creating limestone. Later earth movements raised the sea floor, which eventually became a land of rounded hills and cliffs along river valleys. As water, weather, and wind eroded the great faces of vertical limestone into the shelters and caves used by the Zelandonii, they also exposed the erratic, the battered piece of basalt from a distant location shaped like a column.
As if its sheer size weren't enough to make the site unique, the huge abri was made even more unusual by the strange long stone embedded near the top and jutting out of the front of the huge limestone overhang. Though buried deeply into the cliff at one end, it was weathering out at such an angle that it seemed about to fall, making a distinctive landmark that added a striking element to the extraordinary rock shelter of the Ninth Cave. Ayla had seen it when she first arrived and, with a shiver of recognition, felt she had seen it before. "Does that stone have a name?" she asked, pointing to it. "It's called the Falling Stone," Jondalar said. "That's a good name for it," she said. "And didn't your mother mention names for those rivers?"
"The main river doesn't really have a name," Jondalar said. "Everyone just calls it The River. Most people think of it as the most important river in the region, even though it's not the biggest. It flows into a much larger one south of here – in fact, we call that one Big River – but many of the Zelandonii Caves live near this one, and everyone knows it's the one that's meant when someone says The River.
"The little tributary down there is called Wood River," Jondalar continued. "Many trees grow near it, and there is more wood in that valley than in most. It's not used by hunters much." Ayla nodded in tacit understanding.
The valley of the feeder stream, flanked on the right by limestone cliffs and on the left by steep hills, was not like most of the open grassy valleys of the main river and its other nearby tributaries. It was dense with trees and vegetation, especially upstream. Unlike more open areas, woodlands were not prized by hunters, because hunting was more difficult. Animals were harder to see with trees and brush to hide behind and use for camouflage, and those that migrated in large herds tended to prefer valleys with sizable fields of grass. On the other hand, the valley did provide wood, for constructions, and implements, and for fire. Fruits and nuts were also collected, and several other plants that were gathered for food and other uses, along with smaller animals that fell to snares and traps. In a land of relatively few trees, no one disdained the value of Wood River Valley's contributions.
At the northeastern edge of the Ninth Cave's terrace below, which also offered a view of the two river valleys, Ayla saw the obvious remains of a good-size fire. She hadn't noticed it when she was there, she had been more concerned with following the trail down to the horse's meadow in Wood River Valley.
"Why is there such a large hearth at the edge of the terrace, Jondalar? It can't be for warmth; is it used for cooking?"
"That's a signal fire," he said, then continued when he noticed her puzzled expression. "A big balefire can be seen for quite a distance from that spot. We send messages to other Caves with the fires, and they pass the messages on with their signal fires."
"What kind of messages?"
"Oh, many kinds. They are used a lot when herds are moving, letting hunters know what's been seen. They are sometimes used to announce events or gathers, or some other kind of meeting."
"But how does someone know what the fire means?"
"It's usually arranged in advance, especially when it's the season for certain herds to move and a hunt is planned. And there are certain fire signals that mean someone needs help. Any time that people see a fire burning there, they know to take notice. If they don't know what it means, they will send a runner to find out."
"That's a very clever idea," she said, then added a thought. "It's something like the Clan signs and signals, isn't it? Communicating without words."
"I never thought of it that way, but I suppose you're right," he said.
Jondalar went back a different way from the one they had come. He headed toward The River Valley along a switchback trail that traversed a zigzag down the steeper incline near the top, then turned right through grass and brush on the more gradual slope. It came out along the edge of the flat lowlands of the right bank of The River and cut directly across Wood River Valley to the horse's meadow.
On the way back, Ayla felt relaxed, but she didn't have the exhilarating sense of freedom that she'd had on the ride out. Though she liked everyone she had met so far, there was still the big feast, and she was not anticipating meeting the rest of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii tonight. She wasn't used to so many people all at once.
They left Whinney and Racer in the grassy lea and found the place where the soap plant grew, but Jondalar had to point it out. It was one Ayla was not familiar with. She studied it carefully, noted similarities and differences, and made sure she would know it in the future, then got her pouch of dried ceanothus flowers.
Wolf jumped into The River with them but didn't stay in long after they stopped paying attention to him. After a long swim to soak away the dust and grime of traveling, they crushed the root of the plant and some water in a depression of a flat rock with a rounded stone to release the saponin-rich foam. They rubbed it on themselves and, laughing, on each other, then dove under to rinse off. She gave some ceanothus to Jondalar, then applied some directly to her wet hair. The plant was not as soapy, foaming up only a little, but it smelled sweet and fresh. By the time she rinsed again, the young woman was ready to get out.
After drying with the soft skins, they spread them out and sat on them, sunning themselves. Ayla picked up the comb with four long teeth that had been carved out of mammoth ivory, which was a gift from her Mamutoi friend, Deegie, but when she started combing her hair, Jondalar stopped her.
"Let me do that for you," he said, taking the comb. He had developed a fondness for combing her hair after she washed it, taking pleasurable delight in feeling the thick mass of wet hair dry into soft, springy tresses. And it made her feel unaccus
tomedly pampered.
"I like your mother and your sister," Ayla said, sitting with her back to him while he combed, "and Willamar, too."
"They like you, too."
"And Joharran seems like a good leader. Do you know you and your brother have the same frown lines?" she asked. "I had to like him, he looks so familiar."
"He was smitten by that beautiful smile of yours," Jondalar said. "Just as I am."
Ayla was quiet for a time, then showed the direction her thoughts had taken with her next comment. "You didn't tell me there were so many people in your Cave. It's like a whole Clan Gathering lives here," she said. "And you seem to know them all. I'm not sure if I ever will."
"Don't worry. You will. It won't take you long," he said, trying to work out a particularly irksome tangle. "Oh, sorry, did I pull too hard?"
"No, it's fine. I'm glad I finally met your Zelandoni. She knows medicine; it will be wonderful to have someone to talk with about it."
"She's a powerful woman, Ayla."
"That's obvious. How long has she been Zelandoni?"
"Let me think," he answered. "Not long after I left to live with Dalanar, I think. I still thought of her as Zolena then. She was beautiful. Voluptuous. I don't think she was ever thin, but she is growing to look more and more like the Great Mother. I think she likes you." He stopped combing for a moment, paused, then started to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Ayla asked.
"I was listening to you tell her how you found me, and about Baby and all. She'll be asking you more questions, you can be sure. I was watching her expression. Every time you answered a question, she probably wanted to ask you three more. You just made her more curious. You do it every time. You are a mystery, even to me. Do you know just how remarkable you are, woman?"
She had turned around, and he was looking at her with loving eyes.
"Give me a little time and I'll show you how remarkableyou can be," she answered, a lazy, sensuous smile spreading across her face. Jondalar reached over to kiss her.
