Jondalar, tired of going after him, tried for a time to hold on to both Racer's lead rope and his end of the poles, but it was hard to watch where Ayla was going to lift the poles out of the way, to watch his own footing, and to be careful that he wasn't leading the young horse into a hole, or something worse. He wished that Racer would follow him without rein or harness the way Whinney followed Ayla. Finally, when Jondalar accidentally shoved his end of the poles and jabbed Ayla rather hard, she came up with a suggestion.
"Why don't you tie Racer's lead rope to Whinney?" she said. "You know she'll follow me, and she'll watch her own footing, and won't lead Racer astray, and he's used to following her. Then you won't have to be concerned about him wandering off, or getting into some other kind of trouble, and you'll only have to worry about your end of the poles."
He stopped for a moment, frowning, then suddenly broke into a big grin. "Why didn't I think of that?" he said.
Though they had been gaining in elevation slowly, when the land began to get noticeably steeper the forest changed character rather abruptly. The woodland thinned out, and they quickly left the large deciduous hardwood trees behind. Fir and spruce became the primary trees, with the remaining hardwoods, even those of the same variety, much smaller.
They reached the top of a ridge and looked out over it onto a wide plateau that dropped down gently and then extended nearly level for quite some distance. A mostly coniferous forest of dark green fir, spruce, and pine, accented by a scattering of larch, with needles turning golden, dominated the plateau. It was set off by bright greenish-gold high meadows, and splashed with blue and white tarns, reflecting the clear sky above and the clouds in the distance. A fast river partitioned the space, fed by a rampaging falls cascading down the mountainside at the far end. Rising up beyond the tableland, and filling the sky, was the breathtaking vista of a high peak capped in white, partially masked by the clouds.
It seemed so close that Ayla felt she could almost reach out and touch it. The sun behind her illuminated the colors and shapes of the mountain stone; light tan rock jutting out from pale gray walls; nearly white faces contrasting with the dark gray of strangely regular columns that had emerged from the fiery core of the earth and cooled to the angled form of their basic crystal structure. Shimmering above that was the beautiful blue-green ice of a true glacier, frosted with snow that still lingered on the highest reaches. And while they watched, as if by magic, the sun and the rain clouds created a glowing rainbow and stretched it in a great arc over the mountain.
The man and woman gazed in wonder, drinking in the beauty and the serenity. Ayla wondered if the rainbow was meant to tell them something, if only that they were welcome. She noticed that the air she was breathing was deliciously cool and fresh, and she breathed with relief to be away from the deadening heat of the plains. Then she suddenly realized that the swarming bothersome gnats were gone. As far as she was concerned, she wouldn't have needed to go a step farther than this plateau. She could have made her home right there.
She turned to face the man, smiling. Jondalar was stunned for a moment by the sheer force of her emotions, her pleasure in the beauty of the place, and her desire to stay, but he felt it as pleasure in her beauty and desire for her. He wanted her that instant, and it showed in his rich blue eyes and his look of love and yearning. Ayla felt his force, a reflection of her own, but transmuted, and amplified through him.
Mounted on their horses, they stared into each other's eyes, transfixed by something they could not explain but felt the force of: their evenly matched, though unique, emotions; the power of a charisma each possessed, aimed at the other; and the strength of their mutual love. Unthinking, they reached out to each other – which the horses misinterpreted. Whinney started walking downhill and Racer followed. The movement brought the woman and man back to an awareness of where they were. Feeling an inexplicable warmth and tenderness, and just a touch foolish because they didn't quite know what had happened, they smiled at each other with a look that held a promise, and they continued down the hill, turning northwest to follow the plateau.
The morning that Jondalar thought they might reach the Sharamudoi settlement brought a crisp breath of frost to the air, foretelling the changing of seasons, and Ayla welcomed it. As they rode through the wooded hillsides, she could almost believe she had been there before, if she hadn't known better. For some reason, she kept expecting to recognize a landmark. Everything seemed so familiar: the trees, the plants, the slopes, the lay of the land. The more she saw, the more at home she felt.
When she saw hazelnuts, still on the tree in their green prickly casings, but nearly ripe, the way she liked them, she had to stop and pick some. As she cracked a few with her teeth, suddenly it struck her. The reason she felt that she knew the area, that it felt like home, was that it resembled the mountainous region at the tip of the peninsula, around the cave of Bran's clan. She had grown up in a place very much like this.
The area was becoming more familiar to Jondalar, too, with good reason, and when he found a clearly marked trail that he recognized, descending toward a path that led to the outside edge of a cliff face, he knew they weren't far. He could feel the excitement growing inside him. When Ayla found a big thorny briar mound, high in the middle with long prickly runners, and branches weighted down with ripe, juicy blackberries, he felt an edge of irritation that she wanted to delay their arrival just to pick some.
"Jondalar! Stop. Look. Blackberries!" Ayla said, sliding off Whinney and rushing to the briar patch.
"But we're almost there."
"We can bring them some." Her mouth was full. "I haven't had blackberries like this since I left the Clan. Taste them, Jondalar! Have you ever tasted anything so sweet and good?" Her hands and mouth were purple from picking small handfuls and popping them all in her mouth at one time.
Watching her, Jondalar suddenly laughed. "You should see yourself," he said. "You look like a little girl, full of berry stains and all excited." He shook his head and chuckled. She didn't answer. Her mouth was too full.
He picked some, decided that they were very sweet and good, and picked some more. After a few more handfuls, he stopped. "I thought you said we were going to pick some to take to them. We don't even have anything to put them in."
Ayla stopped for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, we do," she said, taking off her sweat-stained, woven conical hat, and looking for some leaves to line it. "Use your hat."
They had each filled a hat nearly three-quarters full when they heard Wolf give a warning growl. They looked up and saw a tall youth, almost a man, who had come along the trail, gaping at them and the wolf who was so near, eyes open wide with fear. Jondalar looked again.
"Darvo? Darvo, is it you? It's me, Jondalar. Jondalar of the Zelandonii," he said, striding toward the lad.
Jondalar was speaking a language Ayla wasn't familiar with, though she heard some words and tones that were reminiscent of Mamutoi. She watched the expression on the young man's face change from fear, to puzzlement, to recognition.
"Jondalar? Jondalar! What are you doing here? I thought you went away and were never coming back," Darvo said.
They rushed toward each other and threw their arms around each other; then the man backed off and looked at him, holding him by the shoulders. "Let me see you! I can't believe how you've grown!" Ayla stared at the young man, drawn to the sight of another person after not seeing one for so long.
Jondalar hugged him again. Ayla could see the genuine affection they shared, but after the first rush of greeting, Darvo seemed a little embarrassed. Jondalar understood the sudden reticence. Darvo was, after all, nearly a man now. Formal hugs of greeting were one thing, but exuberant displays of unrestrained affection, even for someone who had been like the man of your hearth for a time, were something else. Darvo looked at Ayla. Then he noticed the wolf she was holding back, and his eyes opened wide again. Then he saw the horses standing quietly nearby, with baskets and poles hanging on them, and his eyes opened even wider.