"For the Summer Meeting, too," Danug added. "She made new clothes for me, and for Latie and Rugie."
Jondalar noticed that Rydag's smile faded when Danug talked about the Summer Meeting. He didn't seem to look forward to the big summer gathering as much as the others.
When Jondalar pushed back the heavy drape and started out, Danug, not wanting the words to be heard, whispered to Rydag, "Should we have told him that Ayla is right outside? Every time he sees her, he runs away from her."
"No. He want see her. She want see him. Make right signals, wrong words," Rydag signed.
"You're right, but why can't they see it? How can they make each other understand?"
"Forget words. Make signals," Rydag replied, with his un-Clanlike smile, then picked up the wolf puppy and carried him into the lodge.
Jondalar discovered what the youngsters didn't tell him the moment he stepped out. Ayla was outside the front entrance with the two horses. She had just given Wolf to Rydag to take care of, and she was looking forward to a long, hard ride to work off the tension she was, feeling. Ranec wanted her agreement before the Spring Festival, and she couldn't make up her mind. She hoped the ride would help her think. When she saw Jondalar, her first reaction was to offer to let him ride Whinney, as she had done before, knowing that he loved it, and hoping that his love of the horses would bring him closer to her. But she wanted to ride. She had been, anticipating it, and was just ready to leave.
When she looked at him again, she caught her breath. He had scraped off his beard with one of his sharp flint blades, and he looked so much the way he did when they were in her valley the previous summer it made her heart pound and her face flush. He reacted to her physical signals with unconscious signals of his own, and the magnetic pull of his eyes drew her.
"You have removed your beard," Ayla said.
Without realizing it, she had spoken in Zelandonii. It took him a moment before he realized what was different, then, he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't heard his own language in a long time. The smile encouraged her, and a thought came to her.
"I was just going out to ride on Whinney, and I have been thinking that someone needs to start getting Racer used to a rider. Why don't you come with me and try to ride him? It's a good day for it. The snow is almost gone, new grass is coming in, but the ground is not so hard yet, in case someone falls off," she said, rushing ahead before something happened that would make him change and become distant again.
"Uh… I don't know," Jondalar hesitated. "I thought you would want to ride him first."
"He's used to you, Jondalar, and no matter who rides him first, it would help to have two people. One to calm and settle him while the other gets on."
"I suppose you're right," he said, frowning. He didn't know if he should go out on the steppes with her, but he didn't know how to refuse, and he did want to ride the horse. "If you really want me to, I guess I could."
"I'll go and get a lead rope, and the guider you made for him," Ayla said, racing to the annex before he could change his mind. "Why don't you start walking them up the slope?"
He began to have second thoughts, but she was gone before he could reconsider. He called the horses to him and started up to the broad flat plains above. Ayla caught up with them when they were near the top. She had a haversack and a waterbag as well as the halter and a rope. When they reached the steppes, Ayla led Whinney to a mound she had used before when she let some of the members of the Lion Camp, particularly the younger ones, ride the mare. With a practiced leap, she was on the back of the hay-colored horse.
"Get on, Jondalar. We can ride double."
"Ride double!?" he said, almost in a panic. He hadn't considered riding double with Ayla, and was ready to bolt.
"Just until we find a nice open stretch of flat ground. We can't try it here. Racer might run into a gully or down the slope," she said.
He felt caught. How could he say he wouldn't ride double with her for a short distance? He walked to the mound, and carefully sat astride the mare, trying to sit back and avoid touching Ayla. The moment he was on, she signaled Whinney into a fast trot.
There was no preventing it. Try as he might, on the jouncing horse, he could not keep from sliding next to her. He could feel the warmth of her body through their clothing, smell the light pleasant odor of the dried cleansing flowers she used for washing, mixed with her familiar feminine scent. With each step the horse took, he felt her legs, her hips, her back pressed against him, and felt his manhood rise in response. His head was whirling, and he fought with himself to keep from kissing her neck, reaching around to hold a full, firm breast.
Why did he agree to this? Why didn't he put her off? What difference did it make if he ever rode Racer? They would never ride together. He had heard people talking; Ayla and Ranec were going to announce their promise at the Spring Festival, and afterward, he would leave and start on his long Journey home.
Ayla signaled Whinney to stop. "What do you think, Jondalar? There's a good flat stretch ahead."
"Yes, it looks fine," he said quickly, and pulling his leg back around, jumped down.
Ayla lifted her leg over and slid off the other side. She was breathing fast, her face was flushed, her eyes glittering. She had breathed deeply of his man smell, melted into the warmth of his body, and shivered when she felt the hard, hot bump of his manhood. I could feel his need, she thought. Why was he in such a hurry to get away from me? Why doesn't he want me? Why doesn't he love me any more?
On opposite sides of the mare, they both tried to compose themselves. Ayla whistled for Racer, a whistle different from the one she used to call Whinney, and by the time she had patted him, and scratched him, and talked to him, she was ready to face Jondalar again.
"Do you want to put the guiding straps on his head?" she asked him, leading the young stallion toward a pile of large bones she noticed.
"I don't know. What would you do?" he said. He was also in control of himself again, and beginning to get excited about riding the young horse.
"I never did use anything to guide Whinney, except the way I moved, but Racer is used to being guided by the straps. I think I would use them," she said.
They both put the halter on Racer. Sensing something, he was friskier than usual, and they stroked and patted him to calm him down. They stacked up a couple of mammoth bones to give Jondalar something to stand on to mount the horse, then led the young horse beside them. At Ayla's suggestion, Jondalar rubbed his neck, and his back, and down his legs, and leaned across him, scratching him and stroking him, and getting him entirely familiar with the feel of the man.
"When you first get on him, hold him around the neck. He may rear to try to shake you off his back," Ayla said, trying to think of last-minute advice. "But he did get used to carrying the load on the way back from the valley, so he may not have much trouble getting used to you. Hold the lead rope, so it doesn't fall on the ground and trip him, but I would just let him run, wherever he wants to go, until he gets tired. I'll follow on Whinney. Are you ready?"
"I think so," he said, smiling nervously.
Jondalar stood on the big bones, leaned across the shaggy, sturdy animal, talking to him, while Ayla held his head. Then he eased a leg across his back, settled himself down, and clasped his arms around Racer's neck. When he felt the weight, the dark stallion laid his ears back. Ayla let go. He leaped up on his hind legs once, then he arched his back, trying to dislodge the load, but Jondalar held on. Then true to his name, the young horse broke out in a fast gallop and raced across the steppes.
Jondalar squinted into the cold wind, and felt a tremendous upsurge of sheer exhilaration. He watched the ground blur beneath him, and couldn't believe it. He was actually riding the young stallion, and it was every bit as exciting as he had imagined it would be. He closed his eyes and felt the tremendous power of the muscles bunching and straining beneath him, and a sense of magical wonder washed over him, as though for the first time in his life, he was sharing in the wonder and creation of the Great Earth Mother Herself.