They knew where the rivers came from and where they led, and that rivers could be followed to certain destinations, but so could other landmarks, and a rock outcrop was less
likely to change. In a land that was so close to a glacier, yet subject to the seasonal changes of lower latitudes, ice and permafrost—ground that was permanently frozen—caused drastic alterations of the landscape. Except for the largest of them, the deluge of glacial runoff could change the course of a river from one season to the next as easily as the ice hill pingos of winter melted into the bogs of summer. The mammoth hunters conceived of their physical terrain as an interrelated whole in which rivers were only an element.
Neither did Talut conceive of drawing lines to scale to show the length of a river or trail in miles or paces. Such linear measures had little meaning. They understood distance not in terms of how far away a place was but how long it would take to get there, and that was better shown by a series of lines telling the number of days, or some other markings of number or time. Even then, a place might be more distant for some people than for others, or the same place might be farther away at one season than another because it took longer to travel to it. The distance traveled by the entire Camp was measured by the length of time it took the slowest. Talut’s map was perfectly clear to the members of the Lion Camp, but Ayla watched with puzzled fascination.
“Wymez, tell me where they were,” Talut said.
“On the south side of the tributary,” Wymez replied, taking the bone drawing knife and adding some additional lines. “It’s rocky, with steep outcrops, but the floodplain is wide.”
“If they keep going upstream, there are not many outlets along that side,” Tulie said.
“Mamut, what do you think?” Talut asked. “You said they haven’t wandered far off.”
The old shaman picked up the drawing knife, and paused for a moment with his eyes closed. “There is a stream that comes in, between the second and last outcrop,” he said as he drew. “They will likely move that way, thinking it will lead out.”
“I know the place!” Talut said. “If you follow it upstream, the floodplain narrows and then is hemmed in by steep rock. It’s a good place to trap them. How many are there?”
Wymez took the drawing tool and drew several lines along the edge, hesitated, then added one more. “I saw that many, that I can say for certain,” he said, stabbing the bone drawing knife in the dirt.
Tulie picked up the marking bone and added three more.
“I saw those straggling behind, one seemed quite young, or perhaps it was weak.”
Danug picked up the marker and added one more line. “It was a twin, I think. I saw another straggling. Did you see two, Deegie?”
“I don’t recall.”
“She only had eyes for Branag,” Wymez said, with a gentle smile.
“That place is about half a day from here, isn’t it?” Talut asked.
Wymez nodded. “Half a day, at a good pace.”
“We should start out right away then.” The headman paused, thoughtfully. “It’s been some time since I’ve been there. I’d like to know the lay of the land. I wonder …
“Someone willing to run could get there faster and scout it, then meet us on the way back,” Tulie said, guessing what her brother was thinking.
“That’s a long run …” Talut said, and glanced at Danug. The tall, gangly youth was about to speak up, but Ayla spoke first.
“That is not long run for horse. Horse runs fast. I could go on Whinney … but I do not know place,” she said.
Talut looked surprised at first, then smiled broadly. “I could give you a map! Like this one,” he said, pointing at the drawing on the ground. He looked around and spied a cast-off flake of broken ivory near the bone fuel pile, then pulled out his sharp flint knife. “Look, you go north until you reach the big stream.” He began incising zigzag lines to indicate water. “There is a smaller one you have to cross first. Don’t let it confuse you.”
Ayla frowned. “I do not understand map,” she said. “I not see map before.”
Talut looked disappointed, and dropped the ivory scrap back on the pile.
“Couldn’t someone go with her?” Jondalar suggested. “The horse can take two. I’ve ridden double with her.”
Talut was smiling again. “That’s a good idea! Who wants to go?”
“I’ll go! I know the way,” a voice called out, followed quickly by a second. “I know the way. I just came from there.” Latie and Danug had both spoken up, and several others looked ready to.
Talut looked from one to the other, then shrugged his
shoulders, holding out both hands, and turned to Ayla. “The choice is yours.”
Ayla looked at the youth, nearly as tall as Jondalar, with red hair the color of Talut’s, and the pale fuzz of a beginning beard. Then at the tall, thin girl, not quite a woman but getting close, with dark blond hair a shade or two lighter than Nezzie’s. There was earnest hope in both sets of eyes. She didn’t know which one to choose. Danug was nearly a man. She thought she ought to take him, but something about Latie reminded Ayla of herself, and she remembered the look of longing she had seen on the girl’s face the first time Latie saw the horses.
“I think Whinney go faster if not too much weight. Danug is man,” Ayla said, giving him a big, warm smile. “I think Latie better this time.”
Danug nodded, looking flustered, and backed off, trying to find a way to deal with the sudden flush of mixed emotions that had unexpectedly overwhelmed him. He was sorely disappointed that Latie was chosen, but Ayla’s dazzling smile when she called him a man had caused the blood to rush to his face and his heart to beat faster—and an embarrassing tightening in his loins.
Latie rushed to change into the warm, lightweight reindeer skins she wore for traveling, packed her haversack, added the food and waterbag Nezzie prepared for her, and was outside and ready to go before Ayla was dressed. She watched while Jondalar helped Ayla fasten the side basket panniers on Whinney with the harness arrangement she had devised. Ayla put the traveling food Nezzie gave her, along with water, in one basket on top of her other things, and took Latie’s haversack and put it in the other carrier. Then, holding onto Whinney’s mane, Ayla made a quick leap and was astride her back. Jondalar helped the girl up. Sitting in front of Ayla, Latie looked down at the people of her Camp from the back of the dun yellow horse, her eyes brimming with happiness.
Danug approached them, a little shyly, and handed Latie the broken flake of ivory. “Here, I finished the map Talut started, to make the place easier to find,” he said.
“Oh, Danug. Thank you!” Latie said, and grabbed him around the neck to give him a hug.
“Yes. Thank you, Danug,” Ayla said, smiling her heart-pounding smile at him.
Danug’s face turned almost as red as his hair. As the
woman and the girl started up the slope on the back of the mare, he waved at them, his palm facing him in a “comeback” motion.
Jondalar, with one arm around the arched neck of the young horse, who was straining after them with his head raised and nose in the air, put his other arm around the young man’s shoulder. “That was very nice of you. I know you wanted to go. I’m sure you’ll be able to ride the horse another time.” Danug just nodded. He wasn’t exactly thinking of riding a horse at that moment.
Once they reached the steppes, Ayla signaled the horse with subtle pressures and body movements, and Whinney broke into a fast run, heading north. The ground blurred with motion beneath flying hooves, and Latie could hardly believe she was racing across the steppes on the back of a horse. She had smiled with elation when they started out, and it still lingered, though sometimes she closed her eyes and strained forward just to feel the wind in her face. She was exhilarated beyond description; she had never even dreamed anything could be so exciting.
The rest of the hunters followed behind them not long after they left. Everyone who was able and wanted to go went along. The Lion Hearth contributed three hunters. Latie was young and only recently allowed to join Talut and Danug. She was always eager to go, as her mother had been when she was younger, but Nezzie did not often accompany hunters now. She stayed to take care of Rugie and Rydag, and help watch other young children. She had not gone on many hunts since she took in Rydag.
The Fox Hearth had only two men, and both Wymez and Ranec hunted, but none from the Mammoth Hearth did, except for the visitors, Ayla and Jondalar. Mamut was too old.
Though he would like to have gone, Manuv stayed behind so as not to slow them down. Tronie stayed, too, with Nuvie and Hartal. Except for an occasional drive, where even the children could help, she no longer went along on hunting trips either. Tornec was the only hunter from the Reindeer Hearth, just as Frebec was the only hunter from the Hearth of the Crane. Fralie and Crozie stayed at the Camp with Crisavec and Tasher.
Tulie had almost always found a way to join hunting parties, even when she had small children, and the Aurochs
Hearth was well represented. Besides the headwoman, Barzec, Deegie, and Druwez all went. Brinan tried his best to convince his mother to let him go, but he was left with Nezzie, along with his sister Tusie, placated with a promise that soon he would be old enough.
The hunters hiked up the slope together, and Talut set a fast pace once they reached the level grassland.
“I think the day is too good to waste, too,” Nezzie said, putting her cup down firmly and speaking to the group which gathered around the outdoor cooking hearth, after the hunters left. They were sipping tea and finishing up the last of breakfast. “The grains are ripe and dry, and I’ve been wanting to go up and collect a last good day’s worth. If we head toward that stand of stone pines by the little creek, we can collect the ripe pine nuts from the cones, too, if there’s time. Does anyone else want to go?”
“I’m not sure if Fralie should walk so far,” Crozie said.
“Oh, Mother,” Fralie said. “A little walk will do me good, and once the weather turns bad, we’ll all have to stay inside most of the time. That will come soon enough. I’d like to go, Nezzie.”
“Well, I’d better go, then, to help you with the children,” Crozie said, as if she was making a great sacrifice, although the idea of an outing sounded good to her.
Tronie wasn’t reluctant to admit it. “What a good idea, Nezzie! I’m sure I can put Hartal in the back carrier, so I can carry Nuvie when she gets tired. There’s nothing I’d like better than spending a day outside.”
“I’ll carry Nuvie. You don’t have to carry two,” Manuv said. “But I think I’ll get the pine nuts first, and leave the grain collecting to the rest of you.”
“I think I’ll join you, too, Nezzie,” Mamut said. “Perhaps Rydag wouldn’t mind keeping an old man company, and maybe teach me more of Ayla’s signs, since he’s so good at them.”
“You very good at signs, Mamut,” Rydag signaled. “You learn signs fast. Maybe you teach me.”
“Maybe we can teach each other,” Mamut signed back.
Nezzie smiled. The old man had never treated the child of mixed spirits any differently from the other children of the Camp, except to show extra consideration for his weakness, and he had often helped her with Rydag. There seemed to be
a special closeness between them, and she suspected Mamut was coming along to keep the boy occupied while the rest were working. She knew he would also make sure no one exerted inadvertent pressure on Rydag to move faster than he should. He could slow down if he saw the youngster straining too hard, and blame his advanced age. He had done so before.
When everyone was gathered outside the earthlodge, with collecting and burden baskets and leather tarps, waterbags, and food for a midday meal, Mamut brought out a small figure of a mature woman carved out of ivory and stuck it in the ground in front of the entrance. He said some words understood by no one but him, and made evocative gestures. Everyone in the Camp would be gone, the lodge would be empty, and he was invoking the Spirit of Mut, the Great Mother, to guard and protect the dwelling in their absence.
No one would violate the prohibition against entering signified by the figure of the Mother at the door. Short of absolute need, no one would dare risk the consequences which everyone believed would result. Even if the need was dire—if someone was hurt, or caught in a blizzard and needed shelter—immediate actions would be taken to placate a possibly angry and vengeful protector. Compensation over and above the value of anything used would be paid by the person, or the family or Camp of the person, as promptly as possible. Donations and gifts would be given to members of the Mammoth Hearth to appease the Great Mother Spirit with entreaties and explanations, and promises of future good deeds or compensatory activities. Mamut’s action was more effective than any lock.
When Mamut turned from the entrance, Nezzie hoisted a carrying basket to her back and adjusted the tumpline across her forehead, picked up Rydag and settled him on her ample hip to carry him up the slope, then, herding Rugie, Tusie, and Brinan ahead of her, started up to the steppes. The others followed suit, and soon the other half of the Camp was hiking across the open grasslands for a day of work harvesting the grains and seeds that had been sown and offered to them by the Great Mother Earth. The work and the contribution to their livelihood of the gatherers was counted no less valuable than the work of the hunters, but neither was only work. Companionship and sharing made the work fun.
* * *
Ayla and Latie splashed through one shallow creek, but Ayla slowed the horse before they came to the next somewhat larger watercourse.
“Is this stream we follow?” Ayla asked.
“I don’t think so,” Latie said, then consulted the marks on the piece of ivory. “No. See here, that’s the little one we crossed. We cross this one, too. Turn and follow the next one upstream.”
“Not look deep here. Is good place to cross?”
Latie looked up and down the stream. “There’s a better place up a ways. We only have to take off boots and roll up leggings there.”
They headed upstream, but when they reached the wide shallow crossing where water foamed around jutting rocks, Ayla didn’t stop. She turned Whinney into the water and let the horse pick her way across. On the other side, the mare took off in a gallop, and Latie was smiling again.