by AZPostman
(....three years after "POP")
The two figures, cloaked in heavy furs, slipped silently from the mouth of the large, comfortable, cave they shared with thirty-one others. The tall blonde woman paused and turned abruptly, causing the smooth-shaven man behind her to stumble, almost knocking her down.
"Ayla! What in the world...."
"Shhh!..." giggled the woman, "...you'll wake everyone up!"
"Me?!" sputtered Jondalar, "I'm not the one who stopped! I was..."
"The fire, Jon. It's dying down." interrupted Ayla. "Melkar must be asleep on watch. Shall we awaken him?"
"Not on your life!" growled her partner. "Shiska is watching the children. All is quiet. We've got a chance to be alone; and you want to wake up the only person who coud spot us sneaking off?"
" Well, we can't let the mouth-fire die..." persisted Ayla, "...what if your mother awakens? She'll have his hide for certain!"
"Serves him right!" grumbled Jondalar as he urged his mate out of the dim glow of the fading fire and around a huge boulder sheltering one side of the cave's entrance. "Melkar must learn that fire-watch is serious business. If he wants to become a man this summer, he.... Oh, forget it!
There's the horses - quick, let's go!"
Whinney and Racer spotted the two fur-bulked figures trotting across the pasture in the moonlight and were about to bolt when a familiar low whistle stopped them. Giggling like two children, Ayla and Jondalar approached the two animals, patting them vigorously on their necks in greeting, and slipping each of them a ripe, sweet apple from the huge cache in the back of the cave.
"We're spoiling them, you know." complained Jondalar half seriously.
"No we're not, silly!" countered Ayla, hiding a grin as she nuzzled her equine friend. "We're just trading for their silence! Come on - let's ride!"
Deftly, the athletic couple swung onto their mounts, and hugging knees tightlly, urged the mare and her son into a quick gait. Across a second field, and down a gentle slope into a stream bed they rode, the only sound that of the muted thud of shoeless hooves on the drying grass. Already, the water was slowing, and only half as high as it had been all summer. Winter was fast approaching.
The two horses trotted easily in the short grass about three spear lengths from the water, following the familiar, well-worn path to where the gurgling stream flowed into a larger one a short run from the cave.
Without hesitation, horses and riders broke to their left, crossing the shallow stream and heading for open prarie. As the land leveled off, the two horses quickened into a full gallop, riders moving smoothly with their mounts, long hair streaming pale yellow in the bright light of the late-season full moon.
The big brown stallion began to outstrip his mother, and as horse and rider approached an area where the ground was stoney and strewn with huge boulders, they quickly slowed. Jondalar slipped off running as Racer came to a halt, steam pouring from the mouths and nostrils of both in the chilling night air. Seconds later, Ayla jumped off the slowing Whinney, stumbling three or four quick steps and into her mate's arms. The two laughed as they held each other tight, spinning around and coming up hard against a huge chunk of granite easily twice their height.
Gasping, the two lovers held each other and smiled. As their breathing returned to normal, Ayla lifted her chin slightly, and Jondalar lowered his lips to hers. They kissed lightly and tenderly, enjoying their solitude and each others warmth. As their lips played lightly over each others cheeks, thoughts of politics and children and responsibilities began to distant themselves. Jondalar broke the lingering kiss first, smiling down at his beautiful mate, lover, and friend.
"You know where we are?" he asked, patting the huge granite block.
"Yeees..." replied Ayla, gently breaking away from his embrace, "I do..." Then, with a grin and a shove which sent the unprepared Jondalar slipping in the long, slick grass, she spun and dashed off around the boulder, laughing and throwing back a "Last one up is a big, fat old ptarmigan!" over her shoulder.
Jondalar scrambled off in the other direction, calcuating that his way was shorter, and hoping he could catch the quicker half of his hearth. Ayla beat him to the crevice on the other side of the boulder, and was half way up as Jondalar came charging and leaped for a flash of pale ankle under the flying furs. Ayla squealed, giggling, as she pulled away and easily beat her mate to the top. She slid into the good-sized spoon shaped depression worn into the top of the boulder as Jondalar, also enjoying their little game, dropped heavily on top of her.
"Ummph!" gasped Ayla, "Take it easy, silly, we are expecting a new addition to the hearth before the summer meeting, you know!"
Jondalar feigned a pout as he slipped a probing hand into her furs as if looking for the telltale mound of new life. "That's twice you've called me 'silly' tonite...." he gumbled.
"Well, you are!" giggled Ayla, "You've been... mmm!" - But her words were cut off as Jondalar's lips once again found hers; this time with more urgency.
The two of them squirmed around to get more comfortable, their lips caressing and nibbling at cheeks, noses, and necks. Hands more than stayed warm inside furs, causing giggles and groans more than once.
"What?" demanded a slightly aggrieved Jondalar.
"Th.. the moon!" gasped Ayla, "She... she's being eaten! - She's
disappearing!"
"Now who's being silly?" grunted Jondalar as he shifted to look in the direction of Ayla's astonished gaze. The back of his neck tingled whe he gazed up at the once-full spirit of the night.
Just as Ayla stated, the moon was, indeed, vanishing! A huge chunk was gone from the bottom, and seemed to grow as he stared.
For long minutes, the two lovers, interrupted in their private interlude, huddled in the depression atop their private boulder. They were quiet, stunned, not daring to breathe as they watched in awe and disbelief.
The moon truely seemed to be slowely disappearing.
As the darkness spread gradually past the half-way point, Ayla whispered,
"Jondular, what does it mean? What's happening? Is she dyng?"
All the stories that Jondalar had heard as a child suddenly surged though his mind.... stories ran together.... mental pictures blurred... Which stories were true, and which were meant to put fear and respect into the hearts of the youngsters? For Ayla it was even more confusing. There was Creb, wonderful, magical, awsome Creb, solemly telling the tale of the sun and moon sisters.... and Iza with her stories of spirits and totems at war. Added to her confusion was all she had learned talking with medicene women from every clan and tribe she had contact with. What to believe?
Both of them laid frozen in fear, unsure of what was fact, and what was fiction. The one thing that they knew for certain was that what they were now witnessing was real.... and less than half of the moon remained.
Ayla's instincts took over. "Jondalar, the chidren!" she croaked with a tightness in her throat.
Jondalar's attention snapped to Aladonna and Jonolan. The twins were in the capable hands of Shiska, but would the girl herself remain calm? A low whislte brought nickers from the two horses who had circled back from their foraging and were now sideling nervously at the base of their rider's eyrie.
Without another word, the two fur clad figures slid down the crevice, mounted, and were galloping across the darkening prarie. At the stream, the two horses did not break stride, covering the short span in a wild spray of icy water. On the other side, the two riders urged their mounts straight up the pebble strewn bank, foregoing the well-worn trail and opting for a short cut through the thinned out woods.
mouth-fire had been built up, and that there were at least a dozen figures huddled about, staring up at the moon. The two riders quickly dismounted and brushed aside questions as they ran to their hearth. The children were awake, huddled with Shiska near the small hearth fire. At their innocent age of two and a half summers, they were not aware of the impending disaster, and were all smiles as their parents reached down to pick them up.
"Thank Doni, they're allright!" gasped Ayla, short of breath.
Now assured that the children were fine, Jondalar turned his attention to the puzzle. "My mother. Where is Marthona?", he asked aloud of no one in particular.
"She is with the zelandoni and the older men." spoke the children's young guardian tentatively. "They are discussing the demise of the moon. - Is it true? Is she vanishing into the heavens?" she added, breaking into tears.
Just then, gasps and murmurs could be heard from outside the cave. As two or three voices were raised in a high pitched keening, shouts of "She's dying!", "She bleeds!", were mixed with the piercing scream, "The spirit
of the night is no more!"
Distracted, Ayla and Jondalar put the twins back down with the young girl and hurried outside. In the night heavens, the moon had reappeared whole, but she was now glowing a dull reddish brown color with a little burnt orange around the edges. The fast moving high clouds made the scene even more surrealistic as they blurred the already indistinct outline of the burning moon.
Ayla fingered her well-worn amulet pouch which never left its place around her neck, and prayed fervently to her clan totem as well as The Great Mother and every spirit she had ever heard of during her travels. Something had gone terribly wrong, and for the first time in her life, she did not have the faintest notion of where to begin looking for answers.
A presence made itself known to the couple as it noiselessly came around and stood in front of them. "The spirit of the night has suffered a grievous defeat. She has been overpowered and bloodied. The counsel of elders is in agreement. We must make preparations." Jondalar's mother stood stoically, her face ashen as she spoke. She was obviously very troubled. She had not wanted to resume the leadership of the Ninth Cave, but with the tragic death of Joharran in that hunting accident last summer, and Jondalar's apparent disinterest in all things poltical, she had demmured, and reassumed the position temporarily. She did not want the heavy responsibilities in the first place, and now this.....
"What is it, mother?" asked Jondalar tenderly, reaching out to caress his mother's cheek. "Why are you speaking to us so?"
"I am speaking to you alone my son; my only son." she intoned softly and seriously. "This is a matter that only a man of the people can handle."
A pall of dread and foreboding came over Ayla as she watched and listened to the exchange between mother and son subtly turn into to a discussion between a leader and a man of the Ninth Cave.
The implication of what his leader was saying seemed to strike Jondalar as he lowered his hand and stiffined, standing straighter, and drawing himself up to his full six feet six inches. His eyes grew hard, and his jaw clenched. He knew that once the counsel had decided, the leader had to make her choice. He was the only one of the Ninth Cave left with the experience and knowledge to make the journey that was required. "I hear and obey Marthona, wise leader of the Ninth Cave."
Without another word, the visibly stressed and tired matriarch nodded curtly to her son and slipped off into the shadaows.
Ayla turned to her mate, fear in her eyes, and siezed his arm. "Tell me!" she demanded, "Tell me what you and Marthona were speaking of! I must...." Jondalar cut her off with a raised hand. In the darkness they stood quietly, listening to the soft, mournful lowerings of some of the women.
"The story of Durc? - Remember?" began Jondalar, almost whispering. "You told me the clan had a legend about a young hunter who went off to find a new land for his people?"
Ayla nodded, "Yes?"
"We have a legend that is similar." Jon continued stonily. "This-" and he indicated the still smouldering moon, "-has happened in the past. The long ago past. Many generations have passed. We have come to believe that it may have just been a learning-lesson story. But now..." He looked up. Ayla did too. The moon was completely gone. Only the thick, fluffy clouds, barely visible in the the starless sky, remained. They moved slowely over the moons deathbed, no longer even glowing the muddy colors of her battle with the overpowering evil spirits.
"And what does this legend heve to do with my mate?" asked Ayla huskily, trembling, not really wanting to know.
"A hunter, a scout, is sent to find a new home with a new moon....." began Jondalar slowly, "....he must be strong, experienced, free to make a long journey alone....."
This time, Ayla cut him off. She turned with a little gasp and stepped into him, putting her arms around his waist. The implications stuck her suddenly. She was the medicine woman. She would be taken care of, provided for, while Jondualr was..... was on his quest. Cuddling up close, she laid her face on his chest, her soft golden hair against his cheek. "Why? - Why... you?" she choked, even as she percieved and understood the reasoning behind Marthona's decision. Yet she had to ask as her tears began to flow...... "Why you?"
Jondalar hugged her slender form tightly. No more words were spoken between them as they slowly walked to their hearth, heads lowered as if in mourning.
Ayla gathered up the twins and sat with them on their sleeping furs as she watched Jondalar move about sluggishly, almost in a daze, gathering up his weapons and other equipment. Her mind raced, every instinct demanded rebellion; she could go with him, she could follow.... but the children... her respnsibilities to the cave.... Everything was so much easier when it was just her and Whinney and Baby in that beautiful, secluded valley. But that was so long ago, maturity brought with it responsibility.
"In the legend, does.... does the scout.... return?" she whispered, in the cold silence of the cave.
Long minutes later, he had finished, and sat on the furs with his trembling mate, hugging her close. The children, very aware of something wrong, crawled around them looking for attention and comfort. So absorbed were they in their little family, that neither heard the cries once again rising from outside the cave. Nor did they notice the approach of the tall, hooded figure from the next hearth.
"My children." a somber voice intoned softly. The couple saw the flickering of a shadow against the stone wall, and startled by the voice, looked up to see Marthona standing there.
"I'm ready." sighed Jondalar in resignation as he stood and reached for his pack. The leader of the Ninth Cave smiled and held out her arms, her hands making the motion to "Hold".
"Can you not hear the others, my chidren?" she said, her arm sweeping toward the cave mouth. "The moon - Her spirit has proven to be stronger than her demon... She has won! - She lives!"
It took a few moments for the sudden change in plans to sink in. The smiling face of the matriarch of the Ninth Cave seemed to be many, many, moons younger than earlier in the evening. Jondalar's mother stepped forward and embraced them both. "Once again, the Mother has chosen to smile upon you." she whispered. "She has seen your willingness to provide for the good of all, and has intervened. You, my children, are truely blessed."
Ayla reached down to feel the slight bulge that indicated new life. It was early to show like this. Just like when she was blessed with Aladonna and Jonolan........
