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The missing waterbag made him consider his situation for a moment. He had forgotten food, too, he realized, but it slipped out of his mind again. He was too caught up in remembering, over and over again, the sounds from the lodge, and the scenes and thoughts they created in his mind.
He came across an expanse of white, and hardly paused before plodding ahead into the drift. If he had observed his surroundings, he might have seen that it was more than a snowdrift, but he wasn’t thinking. After the first few steps he broke through the crust, not into a drift of snow, but knee-deep into a pool of standing meltwater. His leather footwear, coated with fat, was waterproof enough to withstand a certain amount of snow, even wet, melting snow, but not water. The shock of cold finally snapped him out of his self-absorbed preoccupation. He waded out, breaking through more ice, and felt the added chill brought by the wind.
What a stupid thing to do, he thought. I don’t even have a change of clothes with me. Or food. Or a waterbag. I have to go back. I’m not prepared for traveling at all, what can I have been thinking of? You know what you were thinking of, Jondalar, he said to himself, closing his eyes as the pain clutched him.
He was feeling the cold in his feet and lower legs, and the uncomfortable sloppy wetness. He wondered if he should try to dry out before he started back, then he realized he didn’t have a firestone with him, or even a fire drill and tinder, and his footwear had liners of felted mammoth wool. Even wet, they would keep his feet from freezing, if he kept moving. He started back, berating himself for his stupidity, yet dreading every step.
As he retraced his footsteps, he found himself thinking of his brother. He recalled the time Thonolan had been caught in quicksand at the mouth of the Great Mother River, and wanted to stay there and die. For the first time, Jondalar fully understood why Thonolan had lost his will to live after Jetamio died. His brother had chosen to stay with the people of the woman he loved, he remembered. But Jetamio had been born to the river people, he thought. Ayla was as much a stranger as he was to the Mamutoi. No, he corrected himself, that’s not true. Ayla is a Mamutoi, now.
When he neared the lodge, Jondalar saw a large bulky figure coming toward him.
“Nezzie was worried about you and sent me to look for you. Where have you been?” Talut said as he fell in behind Jondalar.
“I went for a walk.”
The big headman nodded. That Ayla had shared Pleasures with Ranec was no secret, but neither was Jondalar’s anguish as private as he thought.
“Your feet are wet.”
“I broke through the ice of a pool, thinking it was a snowdrift.”
As they headed down the slope toward the Lion Camp, Talut said, “You should change your boots right away, Jondalar. I have an extra pair I will give you.”
“Thank you,” the younger man said, suddenly aware that he was very much an outsider. He had nothing of his own, and was entirely dependent on the good will of the Lion Camp, even for the necessary clothes and supplies to travel. He didn’t like asking for more, but he had no choice if he was going to leave, and once he was gone, he would no longer be eating their food and making other demands on their resources.
“There you are,” Nezzie said, as he walked in the earthlodge. “Jondalar! You’re cold and wet! Take off those boots and let me get you something hot to drink.”
Nezzie brought him a hot drink, and Talut gave him a pair of old boots and a dry pair of trousers. “You can keep these,” he said.
“I’m grateful, Talut, for everything you’ve done for me, but I need to ask a favor. I have to leave. I must return to my home. I’ve been gone too long. It’s time I started back, but I need some traveling gear, and some food. Once it warms up, it will be easier to find food along the way, but I need some to start out with.”
“I’d be glad to give you what you need. Though my clothes are a little big on you, you can wear them,” the big headman said, then grinning and smoothing his bushy red beard, he added, “but I have a better idea. Why not ask Tulie to outfit you?”
“Why Tulie?” Jondalar asked, puzzled.
“Her first man was about your size, and I’m sure she still has many of his clothes. They were of the finest quality, Tulie made sure of that.”
“But why should she give them to me?”
“You still haven’t collected on your future claim, and she’s in debt to you. If you tell her you want it in a traveling outfit and supplies, she would make sure you have the best there is, to relieve her obligation,” Talut said.
“That’s right,” Jondalar said with a smile. He’d forgotten the wager he’d won. It made him feel better to know he wasn’t entirely without resources. “I will ask her.”
“But you are not planning to leave, are you?”
“Yes, I am. As soon as I can,” Jondalar said.
The headman sat down for some serious discussion. “It is not wise to travel yet. Everything is melting. Look what happened just going for a walk,” Talut said, “and I was looking forward to you coming with us to the Summer Meeting and hunting mammoth with us.”
“I don’t know,” Jondalar said. He noticed Mamut near one of the firepits, eating, and was reminded of Ayla. He didn’t think he could stand it another day. How could he possibly stay until the Summer Meeting?
“Early summer is a better time to start a long trek. It’s safer. You should wait, Jondalar.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jondalar said, though he had no intention of staying any longer than he absolutely had to.
“Good, do that,” Talut said, getting up. “Nezzie told me to make sure you had some of her hot soup for breakfast. She put the last of the good roots in it.”
Jondalar finished tying Talut’s footwear, then got up and walked to the firepit where Mamut was finishing a bowl of soup. He greeted the old man, then reached for one of the bowls stacked nearby, and ladled some out for himself. He sat beside the shaman, pulled out his eating knife, and stabbed a piece of meat.
