'Matagan, have you seen Jonayla and Jondalar?' Ayla called out when she saw the young man walking with a limp, coming out of the addition that had been built next to her dwelling. There were three youths living there now: Matagan; Jonfilar, who had come from the west, near the Great Waters, and Garthadal, whose mother was the leader of his Cave, and had travelled with him from far to the southeast because she had heard of Jondalar's skill.
After four years, Matagan was the most senior of Jondalar's apprentices and had gained so much proficiency that he was helping the man train the younger ones. He could have gone back to the Fifth Cave, or almost any other Cave, as an experienced flint-knapper in his own right, but by now he thought of the Ninth Cave as his home and preferred to stay and work with his mentor.
'I saw them earlier heading toward the horse surround. I think I heard him promise her yesterday that he would take her riding today if it didn't rain. She's getting good at riding Grey, as little as she is, even if she can't get on or off by herself yet.'
Ayla smiled to herself with the memory of Jondalar riding Racer with Jonayla sitting in front of him before she was even walking, and they both trained Grey with the child on her back in front of them, her little arms hugging the mare's thick neck. The young girl and the young mare grew up with each other, and Ayla thought the tie between them was as close as the one between Whinney and herself. Jonayla was good with all the horses, including the stallion — in some ways even better than her mother because she learned to direct him using the halter and lead rope, the way Jondalar did. Ayla still directed Whinney using body language and wasn't as comfortable riding a horse using Jondalar's technique.
'When they come back, would you tell Jondalar I'll be late tonight. I may not be back until morning. Do you know about the man who fell off the cliff near The Crossing this morning?' Ayla said.
'Yes. A visitor?' Matagan said.
'A neighbour from New Home. He used to be with the Seventh Cave; now he lives at Bear Hill. I can't understand why anybody would try to climb High Rock when it's so wet from all the rain. Mud has been sliding down some of the steeper slopes; it was probably muddy up there, too,' Ayla said. This has been a wet spring, she thought. Springs have been more wet ever since we had that cold winter that Marthona predicted a few years ago.
'How is he?' Matagan asked. He knew what it was like to suffer the consequences of poor judgment.
'He's seriously hurt. Broken bones and I don't know what else. I'm afraid Zelandoni will be up all night with him. I'll be staying to help her,' Ayla said.
'With you and the First there, I'm sure he's getting the best care possible,' Matagan said, then smiled. 'And I speak from experience.'
Ayla smiled back. 'I hope so. A runner was sent to tell his family. They should be arriving soon. Proleva is making a meal for them and some others at the main hearth. I'm sure there will be enough for you and the boys, and Jondalar and Jonayla, too,' she added as she turned to hurry back.
She found herself still thinking about Jonayla and the animals as she walked back. When she had to be away, Wolf sometimes stayed with Jonayla, sometimes with her. If she went with Zelandoni to help someone at another Cave, Wolf usually came with her, but when she had to make 'sacrifices' and endure 'tests' as part of her training — go without sleep, give up Pleasures, fast for periods of time — she usually went alone.
She often stayed at the small shelter called the Little Hollow of Fountain Rocks, which was comfortable enough. It was right next to the Deep of Fountain Rocks, sometimes called Doni's Deep, the long cave that was the first sacred site she saw when she came to live with the Zelandonii. Fountain Rocks was about a mile away from the Ninth Cave, plus a gentle-sloped but long climb up the cliff. The long painted cave had other names, especially to the zelandonia such as Entrance to the Womb of the Mother or the Mother's Birth Canal. It was the most sacred site in their immediate region.
Jondalar wasn't always happy when she had to be away, but he never minded taking care of Jonayla, and Ayla was glad for both of them that they were developing such a close relationship. He had even started teaching her to knap flint alongside his apprentices.
Ayla's musings were cut short when she noticed two women walking toward her on her way back, Marona and her cousin. Wylopa nodded in greeting and smiled whenever she saw her, and though it always looked insincere, Ayla smiled back. Marona usually acknowledged her only with the briefest of nods and Ayla responded in kind. The woman didn't even do that much if no one else was around, but this time Marona did smile at her. It made Ayla look at her again. It was in no way a pleasant smile. It was more like a sneer, a gloating sneer.
Ever since her return, Ayla couldn't help but wonder why Marona had moved back to the Ninth Cave. She thought the Fifth Cave had accepted her well enough, and the woman had been known to remark when she moved there that she liked it better. I like it better when she's there, too, Ayla thought.
It wasn't just because Marona and Jondalar had once been a couple. Rather that no one had been more malicious and spiteful to her, beginning with the trick of the boys' winter underwear so people would laugh at her. But Ayla had faced the laughter down and gained the respect of the Ninth Cave. Now, particularly when she was riding Whinney, she often wore a similar outfit on purpose, and so did many other women, much to Marona's vexation. Light leggings and a sleeveless tunic in soft leather were quite comfortable to wear when the days were mild.
Ayla had heard talk from some of Matagan's visiting relatives that Marona had angered some high-status women of the Fifth Cave, kin of Kemordan, the leader, or his mate, for persuading a man who was Promised to one of them to run away with her instead. With her nearly white blond hair and dark grey eyes, she was an attractive woman, though Ayla thought the lines of the frown she wore so often were beginning to etch themselves more deeply on her face. Just like most of her relationships, the liaison didn't last very long, and after claiming his regret and making satisfactory reparations, he was accepted back, but she was looked upon with less favour. As Ayla neared Zelandoni's dwelling, her musings slipped into the back of her mind as thoughts of the injured man filled it.
Later in the evening, when she stepped out of the Donier's abode, which was both her home and an infirmary, she saw Jondalar sitting next to Joharran, Proleva, and Marthona. They had finished their meal and were sipping tea, watching Jonayla and Proleva's daughter, Sethona. Jonayla was a happy, healthy child and very pretty, everyone said, with fine, very light soft curly hair and Jondalar's extraordinarily vivid blue eyes. To Ayla, Jonayla was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, but growing up in the Clan had taught her to be reticent in expressing such thoughts about her own child. It could bring bad luck, and when she tried to look at it objectively, she believed she was bound to feel that way about her own offspring, but in her heart, she could hardly believe such an amazing child could be hers.
Sethona, Jonayla's close cousin, born only a few days before her and a constant playmate, was grey-eyed with dark blond hair. Ayla thought she resembled Marthona; she already showed elements of the former leader's dignity and grace, and her clear direct gaze. Ayla turned her attention to Joharran and Jondalar's mother. Marthona was showing her age, her hair was more grey, her face more lined, but it wasn't just her physical appearance. She wasn't well and that worried Ayla. She and Zelandoni had discussed her situation, and every possible remedy and treatment they could think of to help her, but they both knew there was no way to keep Marthona from walking in the next world someday; they could only hope to delay it.
Though she had lost her own mother, Ayla felt herself lucky to have had Iza, the Clan medicine woman as the mother who raised her as a girl, with Creb the Mog-ur as the man of her hearth. Nezzie of the Mamutoi was the mother who wanted to adopt her into the Lion Camp, although the Mamut of the Mammoth Hearth had done it instead. Jondalar's mother had treated Ayla like a daughter from the first, and she thought of Marthona as her mother, her Zelandonii mother. She felt close to Zelandoni as well, but she was more a mentor and friend.
Wolf was watching the girls, his head down on his front paws. He had noticed Ayla when she approached, but when she didn't immediately join them, he raised his head and looked at her, which caused everyone else to look, too. That made Ayla aware that she had been so lost in thought she had stopped walking. She continued toward them.
'How is he?' Joharran asked when she neared.
'It is still hard to know. We've put splints on the broken bones in his legs and arm, but we don't know what may be broken inside. He still breathes, but he hasn't roused. His mate and mother are in with him now,' Ayla said. 'Zelandoni feels she should stay with them, but I think someone could bring her something to eat, which might
