The Mammoth Hunters

Ayla was still awake when people started to come into the tent. She watched Jondalar come through the opening, and saw him look in her direction, hesitating. She looked back at him for a moment, then she raised her chin and looked away. Ranec came in just then. She sat up and smiled at him.

"I thought you were tired. That's why you went to bed early," the carver said.

"I thought I was, but I couldn't go to sleep. I think maybe I'd like to share your furs, after all," she said.

The brightness of Ranec's smile could have rivaled the sun, if it had been shining.

"It's a good thing nothing can keep me awake when I'm tired," Talut said with a good-natured grin, as he sat down on his sleeping roll to untie his boots. But Ayla noticed that Jondalar did not smile. He had closed his eyes, but it didn't hide his grimace of pain, or the slump of defeat as he walked toward his sleeping place. Suddenly, he turned around and hurried back out of the tent. Ranec and Talut exchanged a glance, but then the dark man looked at Ayla.

When they reached the bog, they decided to look for a way around. They were carrying too much to fight their way through it again. The ivory route map of the previous year was consulted, and a decision was made to change direction the following morning. Talut was sure it would not take any more time to go the long way around, though he had some trouble convincing Ranec, who could not abide any delays.

The evening before they decided to take the new route, Ayla felt unusually edgy. The horses had been skittish all day, too, and even the attention of brushing and currying them hadn't settled them down. Something felt wrong. She didn't know what it was, just a strange unease. She started walking across the open steppes, trying to relax, and wandered away from camp.

She spied a covey of ptarmigan, and looked for her sling, but she had forgotten it. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, they took flight in a panic. Then a golden eagle appeared above the horizon. With deceptively slow wing motions, it rode the currents of air, and seemed in no great hurry. Yet, more quickly than she realized, the eagle was gaining on the low-flying grouse. Suddenly, in a flurry of speed, the eagle snatched its victim in strong talons, and squeezed the ptarmigan to death.

Ayla shuddered and hurried back to camp. She stayed up late, talking to people, trying to distract herself. But when she went to bed, sleep came slowly, and then was filled with unsettling dreams. She woke often, and sometime around daybreak, found herself awake again, and unable to go back to sleep. Slipping out of her bedroll, she went out of the tent, and started up the fire to boil water.

She sipped her morning tea as the sky grew lighter, staring absently at a thin stalk with a dried flower umbel growing near the fireplace. A half-eaten haunch of cold roast mammoth had been raised up high, on top of a tripod of mammoth spears, directly over the fire, to protect it from marauding animals. Recognition of the wild carrot plant dawned on her, and noticing a fractured branch with a pointed end in the woodpile, she used it as a digging stick to uncover the root a few inches below the surface. Then she noticed several more dried flower umbels, and while she was digging them, she saw some thistle stalks, crisp and juicy after the spines were scraped off. Not far from the thistles, she found a big puffball mushroom, still white and fresh, and day lilies with crisp new buds. By the time people were stirring Ayla had a large basket pot of soup, thickened with cracked grains, simmering.

"This is wonderful!" Talut said, scooping up a second serving with an ivory ladle. "What made you decide to cook such a delicious breakfast this morning?"

"I couldn't sleep, and then I noticed all the vegetables growing nearby. It took my mind off… things," she said.

"I slept like a bear in winter," Talut said, then studied her closely, wishing Nezzie was there. "Is something troubling you, Ayla?"

She shook her head. "No… well, yes. But I don't know what it is."

"Are you sick?"

"No, it's not that. I just feel… strange. The horses notice something, too. Racer is hard to manage, and Whi

Suddenly Ayla dropped her cup, and clutching her arms as though to protect herself, stared in horror at the southeastern sky. "Talut! Look!" A column of dark gray was rising upward in the distance, and a massive, billowing dark cloud was filling up the sky. "What is it?"

"I don't know," the big headman said, looking as frightened as she felt. "I'll get Vincavec."

"I am not sure, either." They turned toward the voice of the tattooed shaman. "It's coming from the mountains in the southeast." Vincavec was struggling to keep his composure. He was not supposed to show his fears, but it was not easy. "It must be a sign from the Mother."

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 begi

"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 thi

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.