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“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.
“We didn’t even get wet!” the girl exclaimed. “Only a few splashes.”
When they reached the next stream and turned east, Ayla slowed the pace for a while to give Whinney a rest, but even the slower gait of the horse was so much faster than a human could walk, or consistently run, they covered ground quickly. The terrain changed as they continued, getting rougher and gradually gaining in elevation. When Ayla stopped and pointed to a stream coming in on the opposite side, forming a wide V with the one they had been following, Latie was surprised. She didn’t expect to see the tributary so soon, but Ayla had noticed turbulence and was expecting it. Three large granite outcrops could be seen from where they stood, a jagged scarp face across the waterway, and two more on their side, upstream and offset at an angle.
They followed their branch of the stream and noticed that it angled off toward the outcrops, and when they approached the first, saw that the watercourse flowed between them. Some distance after they passed the outcrops that flanked the stream, Ayla noticed several dark shaggy bison grazing on still green sedge and reeds near the water. She pointed, and whispered in Latie’s ear.
“Don’t talk loud. Look.”
“There they are!” Latie said in a muffled squeal, trying to keep her excitement under control.
Ayla turned her head back and forth, then wet a finger and held it up, testing the wind direction. “Wind blows to us from bison. Good. Do not want to disturb until ready to hunt. Bison know horses. On Whinney, we get closer, but not too much.”
Ayla guided the horse, carefully skirting the animals, to check farther upstream, and when she was satisfied, came back the same way. A big old cow lifted her head and eyed them, chewing her cud. The tip of her left horn was broken off. The woman slowed and let Whinney assume movement that was natural to her while her passengers held their breaths. The mare stopped and lowered her head to eat a few blades of grass. Horses did not usually graze if they were nervous, and the action seemed to reassure the bison. She went back to grazing as well. Ayla slipped around the small h
erd as fast as she could, then galloped Whinney downstream. When they reached previously noted landmarks, they turned south again. They stopped for water for Whinney and themselves after they crossed the next stream, and then continued south.
The hunting party was just beyond the first small creek when Jondalar noticed Racer pulling against his halter toward a cloud of dust moving in their direction. He tapped Talut and pointed. The headman looked ahead and saw Ayla and Latie galloping toward them on Whinney. The hunters did not have long to wait before the horse and riders pounded into their midst, and pranced to a stop. The smile on Latie’s face was ecstatic, her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement as Talut helped her down. Then Ayla threw her leg over and slid off, as everyone crowded around.
“Couldn’t you find it?” Talut asked, voicing the concern everyone felt. One other person mentioned it at almost the same time, but in a different tone.
“Couldn’t even find it. I didn’t think running ahead on a horse would do any good,” Frebec sneered.
Latie responded to him with surprised anger. “What do you mean, couldn’t even find it? We found the place. We even saw the bison!”
“Are you trying to say you have already been there and back?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
