They had reached the other side of the glacier.
A waterfall of milky clouded water, glacier milk, was just below them, gushing out of the bottom of the ice. In the distance, below the snowline, was a thin cover of light green.
"Do you want to stop here and rest a while?" Jondalar asked, but he looked worried.
"I just want to get off this ice. We can rest when we reach that meadow," Ayla said.
"It's farther than it looks. This is not the place to rush or be careless. We'll rope ourselves together, and I think you should go first. If you slip, I can support your weight. Pick a way down carefully. We can lead the horses."
"No, I don't think we should. I think we should take off their halters and packs, and the pole drag, and let them find their own way down," Ayla said.
"Maybe you're right, but then we'll have to leave the packs here ... unless..."
Ayla saw where he was looking. "Let's put everything in the bowl boat and let it slide down!" she said.
"Except a small pack with some necessities that we can take with us," he said, smiling.
"If we tie it all down well, and watch which way it goes, we should be able to find it."
"What if it breaks up?"
"What would break?"
"The frame could crack," Jondalar said, "but even if it did, the hide would probably hold it together."
"And whatever was inside would still be all right, wouldn't it?"
"It should be." Jondalar smiled. "I think that's a good idea."
After the round boat was repacked, Jondalar picked up the small pack of essentials while Ayla led Whinney. Although somewhat fearful of slipping, they walked along the edge looking for a way down. As if to make up for the delays and dangers they had endured in the crossing, they soon found the gradual slope of a moraine, with all its gravel, that appeared possible, just beyond a somewhat steeper grade of slick ice. They dragged the boat to the icy slope; then Ayla unfastened the travois. They removed all the halters and ropes from both animals, but not the mammoth-hide horse boots. Ayla checked them to make sure they were securely tied; they had conformed to the shape of the horses' hooves and now fit snugly. Then they led the horses to the top of the moraine.
Whinney nickered, and Ayla calmed her, calling her by the whinny name she was most familiar with, and she spoke in their language of signals and sounds and made-up words. "Whinney, you need to make your own way down," the woman said. "No one else can find your footing on this ice better than you can."
Jondalar reassured the young stallion. The descent would be dangerous, anything could happen, but at least they had gotten the horses across. They would have to get themselves down. Wolf was pacing nervously back and forth along the edge of the ice, the way he did when he was afraid to jump into a river.
With Ayla's urgings, Whinney was the first to go over the edge, picking her way carefully. Racer was close on her heels and soon outdistanced her. They came to a slick spot, slipped and slid, gained momentum, and moved down faster to keep up. They would be down safely—or not—by the time Ayla and Jondalar reached the bottom.
Wolf was whining at the top, his tail tucked between his legs, not ashamed to show the fear he felt as he watched the horses go.
"Let's push the boat over and get started. It's a long way down, and it won't be easy," Jondalar said.
As they pushed the boat near the steeper icy edge, Wolf suddenly jumped in it. "He must think we're getting ready to ride across a river," Ayla said. "I wish we could float down this ice." They both looked at each other and started to smile. "What do you think?" Jondalar said.
"Why not? You said it should hold together."
"But will we?"
"Let's find out!"
They shifted a few things around to make room, then climbed into the bowl-shaped boat with Wolf. Jondalar sent a hopeful thought to the Mother, and, using one of the travois poles, they pushed off.
"Hold on!" Jondalar said as they started over the edge.
They gained speed quickly, but headed straight ahead at first. Then they hit a bump and the boat bounced and spun around. They swerved sideward, then rode up a slight incline and found themselves in midair. They both screamed with the fearful excitement. They landed with a jolt that lifted them all up, the wolf included, then spun around again while they clutched the edge. The wolf was trying to crouch down and poke his nose over the side at the same time.
Ayla and Jondalar held on for all they were worth; it was all they could do. They had absolutely no control over the round boat that was racing down the side of the glacier. It zigged and zagged, bounced and spun around as though leaping with joy, but it was heavily loaded, bottom heavy enough to resist tipping over. Though the man and woman screamed involuntarily, they couldn't help smiling. It was the fastest, most thrilling ride either of them had ever taken, but it was not over.
They didn't think about how the ride would end, and, as they neared the bottom, Jondalar remembered the usual crevasse at the foot separating the ice from the ground below. A hard landing on gravel could throw them out and cause injury, or worse, but the sound didn't make an impression on him when he first heard it. It wasn't until they landed with a hard bump and a huge splash into the middle of a roaring waterfall of cloudy water that he realized their descent down the wet slippery ice had taken them back toward the river of meltwater that was gushing out of the bottom of the glacier.
They landed at the bottom of the falls with another splash, and soon they were floating calmly in the middle of a small lake of cloudy green glacier melt. Wolf was so happy that he was all over both of them, licking their faces. He finally sat down and lifted his head in a howl of greeting.
Jondalar looked at the woman, "Ayla, we made it! We made it! We're over the glacier!"
"We did, didn't we?" she said, smiling broadly. "That was a dangerous thing to do, though," he said. "We could have been hurt, or even killed."
"It may have been dangerous, but it was fun," Ayla said, her eyes still sparkling with excitement.
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and for all his concern about getting her home safely, he had to smile. "You're right. It was fun, and fitting, somehow. I don't think I'll ever try to cross a glacier again. Twice in one lifetime is enough, but I'm glad I can say I did it, and I'll never forget that ride."
"Now, all we have to do is reach that land over there," Ayla said, pointing toward the shore, "and then find Whinney and Racer."
The sun was setting, and, between the blinding brightness at the horizon and twilight's deceptive shadows, it was difficult to see. The evening chill had brought the temperature to below freezing again. They could see the comforting security of the black loam of solid ground, intermixed with patches of snow, around the perimeter of the lake, but they didn't know how to get there. They had no paddle, and they had left the pole on top of the glacier.
But although the lake seemed calm, the fast-flowing glacial melt gave it an undercurrent that was slowly taking them toward the shore. When they were close, they both jumped out of the boat, followed by the wolf, and pulled it up on the land. Wolf shook himself, spraying water, but neither Ayla nor Jondalar noticed. They were in each other's arms, expressing their love and their relief at having actually reached solid ground.
"We did make it. We're almost home, Ayla. We're almost home," Jondalar said, holding her, grateful that she was there to be held.
The snow around the lake was beginning to refreeze, turning soft slush into hard-crusted ice. They walked across the gravel in the near dark holding hands, until they reached a field. There was no wood for a fire, but they didn't care. They ate the dry concentrated traveling food that had been their sustenance on the ice, and they drank water from bags filled on the glacier. Then they set up their tent and spread out their sleeping furs, but before they settled in, Ayla looked across the darkened landscape and wondered where the horses were.
She whistled for Whinney and waited to hear the sound of hooves, but no horses came. She look
ed up at the swirling clouds above and wondered where they were, then whistled again. It was too dark to look for them now; it would have to wait until morning. Ayla crawled into her sleeping furs beside the tall man and reached for the wolf who was curled up beside her place. She thought about the horses as she sank into an exhausted sleep.
The man looked at the tousled blond hair of the woman beside him, her head resting comfortably in the hollow beneath his shoulder, and he changed his mind about getting up. There was no longer a need to keep moving, but the absence of worry left him at loose ends. He had to keep reminding himself they were over the glacier; they didn't have to hurry any more. They could lie around in their sleeping furs all day if they wanted to.
The glacier was behind them now, and Ayla was safe. He shivered at the thought of her close call, and he tightened his hold on her. The woman raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him. She loved looking at him. The dim light inside the hide tent softened the vivid blue of his eyes, and his forehead, so often knotted in concentration or concern, was relaxed now. She ran a finger lightly across the worry lines, then traced his features.
"Do you know, before I saw you I tried to imagine how a man would look. Not a man of the Clan, one like me. I never could. You are beautiful, Jondalar," she said.
Jondalar laughed. "Ayla, women are beautiful. Not men."
"What is a man then?"
"You might say he's strong, or brave."
"You are strong and brave, but that's not the same as beautiful. What would you call a man who is beautiful?"
"Handsome, I suppose." He felt a little embarrassed. He had been called handsome too often.
"Handsome. Handsome," she repeated to herself. "I like beautiful better. Beautiful I understand."
Jondalar laughed again, his rich, surprisingly lusty laugh. The uninhibited warmth of it was unexpected, and Ayla caught herself staring at him. He had been so serious on this trip. Though he had smiled, he'd seldom laughed out loud.
"If you want to call me beautiful, go ahead," he said, pulling her closer to him. "How can I object to a beautiful woman calling me beautiful?"
Ayla felt the spasms of his laughter, and she started giggling. "I love it when you laugh, Jondalar."
"And, I love you, funny woman."
He held her after they stopped laughing. Feeling her warmth and soft full breasts, he reached for one and pulled her down so he could kiss her. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and felt herself respond with a surprising hunger for him. It had been some time, she realized. All the time they were on the glacier, they both had been so anxious and so exhausted that they hadn't been in the mood, or able to relax enough to get there.
He sensed her eager willingness and felt his own sudden need. He rolled her over as they kissed; then, moving the furs out of the way, he kissed her throat and neck on the way to finding her breast. He enclosed her hard nipple with his mouth and suckled.
She moaned as a sharp shiver of unbelievable Pleasure charged through her with an intensity that left her gasping. She was stunned by her own reaction. He had barely touched her, and she was ready, and she felt so eager. It hadn't been that long, had it? She pushed herself toward him.
Jondalar reached down to touch her place of Pleasures between her thighs, felt her hard knob and massaged it. With a few cries, she reached a sudden peak, and was there, ready for him, wanting him.
He felt her sudden moist warmth, and understood her readiness. His need had risen to match hers. Pushing at the furs to get them out of the way, she opened to him. He reached for her deep well with his proud manhood and entered.
She pulled him to her as he thrust forward, penetrating deeply. He felt her full embrace, and she cried out with her joy. She had needed him, and he felt so right, it was beyond delight, more than Pleasure.
He was as ready as she. He pulled back, then thrust again, and only once more, and suddenly, there was no holding back. He felt the surge rise, reach, and overflow. With a last few motions, he drained himself, then pushed in, and relaxed on top of her.
She lay still with her eyes closed, feeling his weight on her, and feeling wonderful. She didn't want to move. When he finally got up and looked down at her, he had to kiss her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"That was wonderful, Jondalar," she said, feeling languid and satisfied.
"It was fast. You were ready; we were both ready. And you had the strangest smile on your face just now."
"That's because I'm so happy."
"I am, too," he said, kissing her again, then rolling onto his side.
They lay together quietly and dozed off again. Jondalar woke before Ayla did, and he watched her while she slept. The strange little smile appeared again and made him wonder what she was dreaming of. He couldn't resist. He kissed her softly and caressed her breast. She opened her eyes. They were dilated, dark and liquid, and full of deep secrets.
He kissed each eyelid, then nibbled playfully at an earlobe and then a nipple. She smiled at him when he reached for her mound and felt her soft hair, receptive, if not quite ready again, making him wish they were just beginning instead of just through. Suddenly he held her tight, kissed her fiercely, stroked her body, her breasts and hips and thighs. He could hardly keep his hands away from her, as though coming so close to losing her had created a need as deep as the crevasse that almost took her. He couldn't touch her enough, hold her enough, love her enough.
"I never thought I'd fall in love," he said, relaxing again and idly caressing the dip at the small of her back and the smooth mound beyond. "Why did I have to travel beyond the end of the Great Mother River to find a woman I could love?"
He had been thinking about that ever since he woke up and realized they were almost home. It was good to be on this side of the glacier, but he was full of anticipation, wondering about everyone, and eager to see them.
"Because my totem meant you for me. The Cave Lion guided you."
"Then why did the Mother cause us to be born so far apart?"
Ayla lifted her head and looked at him. "I've been learning, but I still know very little about the ways of the Great Earth Mother, and not much more about the protective spirits of the Clan totems, but I know this: you found me."
"And then I almost lost you." A sudden rush of cold fear clutched at him. "Ayla, what would I do if I lost you?" he said, his voice hoarse with the emotion he seldom showed openly. He rolled over, covering her body with his, and buried his head in her neck, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe. "What would I do?"
She clung to him, wishing there was some way she could become a part of him, and she gratefully opened herself to him when she felt his need swell again. With an urgency as demanding as his love, he took her as she came to him with a need as driving.
It was over even more quickly, and with the release, the tension of their fierce emotion melted into a warm afterglow. When he started to move aside, she held him, wanting to cling to the intensity of the moment.
"I wouldn't want to live without you, Jondalar," Ayla said, picking up the conversation begun before their lovemaking. "A piece of me would go with you to the spirit world, I'd never be whole again. But we're lucky. Think of all the people who never find love, and those who love someone who cannot love them back."
"Like Ranec?"
"Yes, like Ranec. I still hurt inside when I think of him."
Jondalar rolled over and sat up. "I feel sorry for him. I liked Ranec —or I could have." Suddenly he was eager to be moving. "We'll never get to Dalanar's this way," he said, starting to roll up sleeping furs. "I can't wait to see him again."
"But first, we have to find the horses," Ayla said.
43
Ayla got up and went outside the tent. A mist hovered close to the ground and the air felt cold and damp on her bare skin. She could hear the roar of the waterfall in the distance, but the vapor thickened into a dense fog near the back end of the lake, a long narrow body of greenish water, so cloudy it was near
ly opaque.
No fish lived in such a place, she was sure, just as no vegetation grew along the edge; it was too new for life, too raw. There was only water and stone, and a quality of time before time, of ancient beginnings before life began. Ayla shivered and felt a stark taste of Her terrible loneliness before the Great Mother Earth gave birth to all living things.
She stopped to pass her water, then hurried across the sharp-edged gravel shore, waded in, then ducked down. It was icy cold and gritty with silt. She wanted to bathe—it hadn't been possible while they were crossing the ice—but not in this water. She didn't mind the cold so much, but she wanted clear, fresh water.
She started back to the tent to dress and help Jondalar pack up. On the way, she looked through the mist across the lifeless landscape to a hint of trees below. Suddenly she smiled.
"There you are!" she said, sounding a loud whistle.
Jondalar was out of the tent in an instant. He smiled as broadly as Ayla to see the two horses galloping toward them. Wolf followed along behind, and Ayla thought he looked pleased with himself. He hadn't been around that morning, and she wondered if he had played any part in the horses' return. She shook her head, realizing she would probably never know.
They greeted each horse with hugs, caressing strokes, friendly scratches, and words of affection. Ayla checked them over carefully at the same time, wanting to be sure they had not injured themselves. The horse boot on Whinney's right rear foot was missing and the mare seemed to flinch when Ayla examined her leg. Could she have broken through the ice at the edge of the glacier and, in pulling free, torn off the boot and bruised her leg? It was the only thing she could think of.
Ayla removed the rest of the mare's boots, lifting each leg to untie them while Jondalar stood close to steady the animal. Racer still had all his horse boots, although Jondalar noticed they were wearing thin over the sharp hooves; even mammoth hide would not last long worn over hooves.