The Mammoth Hunters

When Iza told me about the medicine, she said that it strengthened her totem and that's what kept her from having a baby for so many years. Maybe it did, but I didn't take it when I was living alone and no babies got started by themselves. It was only after Jondalar came that I even thought about looking for that golden thread plant and the antelope sage root again…

After Jondalar showed me it didn't have to hurt… after he showed me how wonderful it could be for a man and woman together…

I wonder what would happen if I stopped taking Iza's secret medicine? Would I have a baby? Would I have Jondalar's baby? If he put his manhood there, where babies come from?

The thought brought a flush of warmth to her face, and a tingling to her nipples. It's too late today, she thought, I already took the medicine this morning, but what if I just made an ordinary tea tomorrow? Could I start Jondalar's baby growing? We wouldn't have to wait, though. We could try tonight…

She smiled to herself. You just want him to touch you, and put his mouth on your mouth, and on… She shivered with anticipation, closing her eyes to let her body remember how he could make it feel.

"Ayla?" a voice barked.

She jumped at the sound. She hadn't heard Jondalar coming, and the tone he used wasn't in keeping with the way she was feeling. It dispelled the warmth. Something was bothering him. Something had been bothering him since they arrived; she wished she could discover what it was.

"Yes."

"What are you doing out here?" he snapped.

What had she been doing? "I am feeling the night, and breathing, and thinking about you," she answered, explaining as fully as she could.

It wasn't the answer Jondalar expected, though he wasn't sure what answer he did expect. He had been fighting down a hard knot of anger and anxiety that had made his stomach churn ever since the dark-ski

Yet when Ayla asked Ranec about his background, Jondalar felt himself flush with hot rage and shudder with cold terror at the same time. Why did she want to know more about this fascinating stranger if she wasn't interested? The tall man resisted an urge to snatch her away, and was bothered because he had such a feeling. She had the right to choose her friends, and they were only friends. They had only talked and looked at each other.

When she went outside alone, Jondalar, seeing Ranec's dark eyes follow her, quickly put on his parka and went out after her. He saw her standing by the river, and for some reason he couldn't explain, felt sure she was thinking about Ranec. Her answer first caught him by surprise, then he relaxed, and smiled.

"I should have known, if I asked, I'd get a complete and honest answer. Breathing, and feeling the night – you're wonderful, Ayla."

She smiled back. She wasn't sure what she had done, but something had made him smile and put the happiness back in his voice. The warmth she had been feeling returned, and she moved toward him. Even in the dark of night, with barely enough starlight to show a face, Jondalar sensed her mood from the way she moved, and responded in kind. The next moment she was in his arms, with his mouth on hers, and all her doubts and worries fled from her mind. She would go anywhere, live with any people, learn any strange customs, so long as she had Jondalar.

After a moment she looked up at him. "Do you remember when I asked you what your signal was? How I should tell you when I wanted you to touch me, and wanted your manhood in me?"

"Yes, I remember," he said, smiling wryly.

"You said to kiss, or just ask. I am asking. Can you make your manhood ready?"

She was so serious, and so ingenuous, and so appealing. He bent his head to kiss her again, and held her so close she could almost see the blue of his eyes, and the love in them. "Ayla, my fu

But as he held her, he felt a flush of guilt. If he loved her so much, why did he feel so embarrassed about the things she did? When that Frebec man backed away from her in disgust, he'd wanted to die of shame that he had brought her, that he could be associated with her. A moment later, he'd hated himself for it. He loved her. How could he be ashamed of the woman he loved?

That dark man, Ranec, wasn't ashamed. The way he looked at her, with his white gleaming teeth and his dark flashing eyes, laughing, coaxing, teasing; when Jondalar thought of it, he had to fight an impulse to strike out at him. Every time he thought of it, he had to fight the urge again. He loved her so much he couldn't bear the thought that she might want someone else, maybe someone who wasn't embarrassed by her. He loved her more than he ever thought it was possible to love anyone. But how could he be ashamed of the woman he loved?

Jondalar kissed her again, harder, holding her so tight it hurt, then with an almost frenzied ardor, he kissed her throat and neck. "Do you know what it feels like to know, finally, that you can fall in love? Ayla, can't you feel how much I love you?"

He was so earnest, so fervent, she felt a pang of fear, not for herself, but for him. She loved him, more than she could ever find words for, but this love he felt for her was not quite the same. It wasn't so much stronger, as more demanding, more insistent. As though he feared he would lose that which he had finally won. Totems, especially strong totems, had a way of knowing, and testing, just such fears. She wanted to find a way to deflect his outpouring of powerful emotion.

"I can feel how ready you are," she said, with a little grin.

But he didn't respond with a lighter mood, as she had hoped. Instead he kissed her fiercely, crushing her until she thought her ribs would crack. Then he was fumbling inside her parka, under her tunic, reaching for her breasts, trying to untie the drawstring of her trousers.

She had never known him like this, needing, craving, imploring in his urgency. His way was usually more tender, more considerate of her needs. He knew her body better than she did, and he enjoyed his knowledge and skill. But this time his needs were stronger. Knowing the moment for what it was, she gave herself up to him, and lost herself in the powerful expression of his love. She was as ready for him as he was for her. She undid the drawstring and let her legged garment drop, then helped, him with his.

Before she knew it, she was on the hard ground near the bank of the river. She caught a glimpse of faintly hazy stars before closing her eyes. He was on her, his mouth hard on hers, his tongue prodding, searching, as though he could find with it what he sought so eagerly with his warm and rigid member. She opened to him, her mouth and her thighs, then reached for him and guided him into her moist, inviting depths. She gasped as he entered, and heard an almost strangled moan, then felt his shaft sink in to fill her, as she strained to him.

Even in his frenzy, he marveled at the wonder of her, at how suited they were, that her depths matched his size. He felt her warm folds embrace him fully, and almost, at that first instant, reached his peak. For a moment, he struggled to hold back, to exercise the control he was so accustomed to, then he let go. He plunged in, and again, and once more, and then with an inexpressible shudder, he felt a rising peak of wonder, and cried out her name.

"Ayla! Oh, my Ayla, my Ayla. I love you!"

"Jondalar, Jondalar, Jondalar…"

He finished a last few motions, then with a groan, buried his face in her neck and held her as he lay still, spent. She felt a stone jabbing her back, but she ignored it.