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Ayla was sure some terrible catastrophe was happening for the earth to spew forth like that with such force. The dark gray column must have been unbelievably huge to look so large from so far away, and the cloud, roiling and surging angrily, was growing larger. High winds were beginning to push it westward.
“It’s the milk of Doni’s Breast,” Jondalar said, more matter-of-factly than he felt, using a word from his own language. Everyone was out of the tents now, staring at the terrifying eruption and the huge bloated cloud of seething volcanic ash.
“What is … that word you said?” Talut said.
“It’s a mountain, a special kind of mountain that spouts. I saw one when I was very young,” Jondalar said. “We call them the ‘Breasts of the Mother.’ Old Zelandoni told us the legend about them. The one I saw was far away on the high midlands. Later a man who was traveling, and was closer to it, told us what he saw. It was a very exciting story, but he was scared. There were some small earthquakes, then the top of the mountain blew right off. It sent up a big spout like that, and made a black cloud that filled the sky. It’s not like a regular cloud, though. It’s full of a light dust, like ash. That one”—he motioned toward the huge black cloud that was streaming toward the west—“looks like it’s blowing away from us. I hope the wind doesn’t shift. When that ash settles, it covers everything. Sometimes very deep.”
“It must be far away,” Brecie said. “We can’t even see the mountains from here, and there are no sounds, no roars and rumbles and shaking of the ground. Just that huge spout and the great dark cloud.”
“That’s why, even if the ash falls around here, it may not be too bad. We’re far enough away.”
“You said there were earthquakes? Earthquakes are always a sign from the Mother. This must be, too. The mamuti will have to meditate on this, find its meaning,” Vincavec said, not wanting to appear less knowledgeable than the stranger.
Ayla did not hear much beyond “earthquake.” There was nothing in the world she feared so much as earthquakes. She had lost her family when she was five to a violent rending of the solid earth, and another earthquake had killed Creb when Broud had expelled her from the Clan. Earthquakes had always presaged devastating loss, wrenching change. She kept control of herself only by the thinnest edge.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar movement. The next instant, a streak of gray fur raced toward her, jumped up, and put wet, muddy paws on her chest. She felt the lick of a raspy tongue on her jaw.
“Wolf! Wolf! What are you doing here?” she said, as she ruffed up his neck. Then she stopped, horror-stricken, and cried out. “Oh, no! It’s Rydag! Wolf has come for me, to take me to Rydag! I must go. I must go immediately!”
“You’ll have to leave the travois and the horses’ pack loads here, and ride back,” Talut said. The pain in his eyes was evident. Rydag was the son of his hearth just as much as any of Nezzie’s children, and the headman loved him. If he could have, if he wasn’t so big, Ayla would have offered to let him ride Racer and come back with her.
She ran into the tent to dress and saw Ranec. “It’s Rydag,” she said.
“I know. I just heard you. Let me help. I’ll put some food and water in your pack. Will you need your bedroll? I’ll pack it, too,” he said, while she was wrapping ties around her boots.
“Oh, Ranec,” Ayla said. He was so good to her. “How can I thank you!”
“He’s my brother, Ayla.”
Of course! she thought. Ranec loves him, too. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking right. Do you want to come back with me? I was thinking of asking Talut, but he’s too big to ride Racer. You could, though.”
“Me? Get up on a horse? Never!” Ranec said, looking startled and pulling back a little.
Ayla frowned. She hadn’t realized he felt so strongly about the horses, but now that she thought about it, he was one of the few who had never asked for a ride. She wondered why.
“I wouldn’t have the first idea how to guide him, and … I’m afraid I’d fall off, Ayla. It’s all right for you, that’s one of the things I love about you, but I’ll never ride a horse,” Ranec said. “I prefer my own two feet. I don’t even like boats.”
“But someone must go with her. She should not go back alone,” Talut said from just beyond the entrance.
“She won’t,” Jondalar said. He was dressed in traveling clothes, standing beside Whinney, holding Racer’s bridle.
Ayla breathed a great sigh of relief, and then frowned. Why was he going with her? He never wanted to go anyplace with her, alone. He didn’t really care about her. She was glad he would be with her, but she wasn’t going to tell him. She had already humiliated herself too many times.
While she put the carrying bags on Whinney, Ayla noticed Wolf slurping water from Ranec’s dish. He had gobbled down half a plate of meat as well.
“Thank you for feeding him, Ranec,” she said.
“Just because I won’t ride a horse doesn’t mean I don’t like the animals, Ayla,” the carver said, feeling diminished. He hadn’t wanted to tell her he was afraid to ride a horse.
She nodded, and smiled. “I’ll see you when you get to Wolf Camp,” Ayla said. They embraced, and kissed, and Ayla thought he held her to him almost too fervently. She hugged Talut as well, and Brecie, and brushed Vincavec’s cheek, then mounted. The wolf was immediately at Whinney’s heels.
“I hope Wolf’s not too tired to run back after running all the way here,” Ayla said.
“If he gets tired, he can ride double with you on Whinney,” Jondalar said, sitting on Racer, trying to keep the nervous stallion calm.
“That’s right. I’m not thinking,” Ayla said.
“Take care of her, Jondalar,” Ranec said. “When she’s worried about someone else, she forgets to take care of herself. I want her to be well for our Matrimonial.”
