smart, and they walk on their legs just like we do.”
“Bears walk on their hind legs sometimes, too. Flatheads are animals! Intelligent animals, but animals.” Laduni struggled to get himself under control, aware that the whole group was uncomfortable. “They’re usually harmless unless you bother them,” he continued. “I don’t think it’s the females—I doubt if they understand how it dishonors theMother. It’s all the baiting and beating up. If animals are annoyed enough, they’ll strike out.”
“I think Charoli’s gang has made some problems for us,” Thonolan said. “We wanted to cross over to the right bank so we wouldn’t have to worry about crossing her later when she’s the Great Mother River.”
Laduni smiled. Now that they were on another subject, his rage left as quickly as it had come. “The Great Mother River has tributaries that are big rivers, Thonolan. If you are going to follow her all the way to the end, you’re going to have to get used to crossing rivers. Let me make a suggestion. Keep to this side until after the big whirlpool. She separates into channels as she goes across some flat land, and smaller branches are easier to cross than one big river. By then, it’ll be warmer, too. If you want to visit the Sarmunai, go north after you cross.”
“How far is it to the whirlpool?” Jondalar asked.
“I’ll scratch out a map for you,” Laduni said, taking out his flint knife. “Lanalia, give me that piece of bark. Maybe some of the others can add some landmarks farther on. Allowing for river crossings and hunting along the way, you should make it to the place where the river turns south by summer.”
“Summer,” Jondalar mused. “I’m so tired of ice and snow, I can hardly wait until summer. I could use some warmth.” He noticed Lanalia’s leg next to his again, and put his hand on her thigh.
3
The first stars pierced the evening sky as Ayla carefully picked her way down the steep rocky side of the ravine. As soon as she cleared the edge, the wind ceased abruptly, and she stopped for a moment to savor its absence. But the walls cut off the failing light as well. By the time she reached thebottom, the dense brush along the small river was a tangled silhouette seen against the moving reflection of the myriad shining points above.
She took a deep refreshing drink from the river, then felt her way into the deeper black near the wall. She didn’t bother with the tent, just spread out her fur and rolled up in it, feeling more secure with a wall at her back than she had on the open plains under her tent. She watched a gibbous moon show its nearly full face over the edge of the ravine before she fell asleep.
She woke up screaming!
She bolted upright—stark terror charging through her, pounding in her temples, and racing her heart—and stared at vague shapes in the black-on-black void in front of her. She jumped as a sharp crack and a simultaneous flash of light blinded her. Shuddering, she watched a tall pine, struck by the searing bolt, split and slowly, still clinging to its severed half, fall to the ground. It was surreal, the flaming tree lighting its own death scene and casting grotesque shadows on the wall behind.
The fire sputtered and hissed as drenching rain doused it. Ayla huddled closer to the wall, oblivious still to both her warm tears and the cold drops splattering her face. The first distant thunder, reminiscent of an earth-shaking rumble, had kindled another recurring dream from the ashes of hidden memory; a nightmare she never could quite remember when she awoke and that always left her with a nauseous sense of uneasiness and overwhelming grief. Another bright shaft, followed by a loud roar, momentarily filled the black void with eerie brightness, giving her a flashing glimpse of the steep walls and the jagged tree trunk snapped like a twig by the powerful finger of light from the sky.
Shivering as much from fear as from the wet, penetrating cold,
“Bears walk on their hind legs sometimes, too. Flatheads are animals! Intelligent animals, but animals.” Laduni struggled to get himself under control, aware that the whole group was uncomfortable. “They’re usually harmless unless you bother them,” he continued. “I don’t think it’s the females—I doubt if they understand how it dishonors theMother. It’s all the baiting and beating up. If animals are annoyed enough, they’ll strike out.”
“I think Charoli’s gang has made some problems for us,” Thonolan said. “We wanted to cross over to the right bank so we wouldn’t have to worry about crossing her later when she’s the Great Mother River.”
Laduni smiled. Now that they were on another subject, his rage left as quickly as it had come. “The Great Mother River has tributaries that are big rivers, Thonolan. If you are going to follow her all the way to the end, you’re going to have to get used to crossing rivers. Let me make a suggestion. Keep to this side until after the big whirlpool. She separates into channels as she goes across some flat land, and smaller branches are easier to cross than one big river. By then, it’ll be warmer, too. If you want to visit the Sarmunai, go north after you cross.”
“How far is it to the whirlpool?” Jondalar asked.
“I’ll scratch out a map for you,” Laduni said, taking out his flint knife. “Lanalia, give me that piece of bark. Maybe some of the others can add some landmarks farther on. Allowing for river crossings and hunting along the way, you should make it to the place where the river turns south by summer.”
“Summer,” Jondalar mused. “I’m so tired of ice and snow, I can hardly wait until summer. I could use some warmth.” He noticed Lanalia’s leg next to his again, and put his hand on her thigh.
3
The first stars pierced the evening sky as Ayla carefully picked her way down the steep rocky side of the ravine. As soon as she cleared the edge, the wind ceased abruptly, and she stopped for a moment to savor its absence. But the walls cut off the failing light as well. By the time she reached thebottom, the dense brush along the small river was a tangled silhouette seen against the moving reflection of the myriad shining points above.
She took a deep refreshing drink from the river, then felt her way into the deeper black near the wall. She didn’t bother with the tent, just spread out her fur and rolled up in it, feeling more secure with a wall at her back than she had on the open plains under her tent. She watched a gibbous moon show its nearly full face over the edge of the ravine before she fell asleep.
She woke up screaming!
She bolted upright—stark terror charging through her, pounding in her temples, and racing her heart—and stared at vague shapes in the black-on-black void in front of her. She jumped as a sharp crack and a simultaneous flash of light blinded her. Shuddering, she watched a tall pine, struck by the searing bolt, split and slowly, still clinging to its severed half, fall to the ground. It was surreal, the flaming tree lighting its own death scene and casting grotesque shadows on the wall behind.
The fire sputtered and hissed as drenching rain doused it. Ayla huddled closer to the wall, oblivious still to both her warm tears and the cold drops splattering her face. The first distant thunder, reminiscent of an earth-shaking rumble, had kindled another recurring dream from the ashes of hidden memory; a nightmare she never could quite remember when she awoke and that always left her with a nauseous sense of uneasiness and overwhelming grief. Another bright shaft, followed by a loud roar, momentarily filled the black void with eerie brightness, giving her a flashing glimpse of the steep walls and the jagged tree trunk snapped like a twig by the powerful finger of light from the sky.
Shivering as much from fear as from the wet, penetrating cold,