Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, names or anything connected to Jean M Auel's Earth's Children series in this story. I'm just having some fun.
Chapter Three
The Awakening
She opened her eyes to a rock roof high above her head. Where am I? The thought screamed into her head. She tried to lift herself up but every fiber of her body protested at the movement. She looked around at the dank space, the only light available from a stone lamp nicked in the wall and glowing red coals from a banked fire. She looked up at the stone lamp and saw a small figure of a woman leaning against the wall behind the flame. The woman figure was obese, with large breasts and shapely buttocks. Squinting the woman could see that the figures head was completely covered with a suggestion of hair, but had no face. The carving stirred a form of recognition in her mind and caused gooseflesh to race across her skin. She felt she should know what it was, the significance of it but she could not come to any conclusions. She shrugged it off and looked around the dwelling.
It was a simple tidy space. There were three other beds like the one she was laying on, all empty. Next to the fire were several low cushions which looked to be made of leather. Next to her, on the floor, she could see a cup made completely out of wood and a design which roughly resembled a large herd animal, with huge rounded horns. She picked up the fur that covered her body and examined it. It looked like it was made of a wolf skin, tawny and grey in colour. It was beautifully soft and warm and cold suddenly the woman drew it closer to her body.
Why are these bed clothes made out of animal skins? She wondered. The fire, the furs, the strange cup and the woman figure all gave her mind a prickle of recognition as though she should know what it all meant, but the answers eluded her. She looked up at the roof and listened to the heavy snow storm outside. She started to become aware of the aches and pains all over her tender body. Who brought me here? She wondered, I don't remember anything before falling and hurting my face. She raised a hand to here cheek and felt a piece of damp leather over the place she'd hurt herself. She looked at it questionably before realizing she was unable to move her head or leg. She looked down with her eyes and saw her leg rigged and brown. What is that! What wrong with my leg? It was too much and the young woman broke down in tears her mind screaming at her Where I am? How will I get home? Drained by the release of tears, lack of sleep and food the woman slipped into unconsciousness again.
The large donier shuffled round her fire, stirring the coals up to heat up the cooking stones. She had checked on the woman who still slept but she thought she would be waking soon and when she did she was bound to feel the pains of the fall. Creating a nice fire, Zelandonii starting boiling water for willow bark tea as well as heating up some of the leftover meaty broth from her evening meal. The smell of the warming meat caused the sleeping woman to begin to rouse, her body seeking the nourishment of food. Zelandonii quickly set aside the willow bark tea and poured the now steaming broth into a wide wooden cup with a bison craved on it, next to the woman's bed.
The stranger's eyes fluttered open. Zelandonii passed her the medicinal tea. The woman hesitated, unsure of whether to take this drink from someone unknown. Seeming to come a decision to trust the woman she took the cup and swallowed down the tea, making a face at the bitterness of the pain killing drink. When Zelandonii held up the meat broth the woman didn't hesitate, and ate greedily from the warm bowl. After finishing her meal she looked at the fat holy woman.
"Who are you?" she asked in English "Where am I? And what is wrong with my leg? What happened to me?"
The large woman did not reply and instead a look of confusion came over her.
"Don't you understand me?" the stranger said, her voice rising in volume "What's going on?"
Again and again she asked for answers but got none from this woman who obviously lived here. The donier turned around and began fixing a relaxant tea. She's starting to panic, she though, she must be many moons from her home… she mustn't remember the fall. Her language is so strange I've never heard anything like it.
She doesn't understand me! She mustn't speak English! Oh God where am I? The stranger thought, watching the fat woman's back as she worker at the fire. Her clothes are so strange, there made of animal skins too! She was starting to get a feeling a heavy nausea as the woman turned and pushed a cup of sweet smelling liquid into her hand. She drank without thinking.
"Zelandonii" the large woman said tapping her chest.
"What?" the stranger said and the woman repeated her name. "Zeelandooni?"
The large woman nodded and tapped the wounded female's chest.
"Sammi"
"Sammi" It was repeated correctly.
Sammi sat back and sighed. She sipped the tea Zelandonii had given her. She wanted more. Se at least wanted to know how badly hurt she was….and about the woman figure. Why was it so familiar? She thought. I've never seen anything like that before. Her brow creased with concentration, and then as Zelandonii turned to face her she pointed at the stone lamp with the figure behind it.
Following the woman's hand Zelandonii looked over at the small doni sitting in the niche. She got up and took it to the injured woman placing it in her hands.The wise woman had noticed the flicker of recognition, followed by confusion. She must be unsure of what the doni is, she thought.Repeating her name and pointing at her chest she then pointed to the Mother figure.
"Doni"
"Doni! Of course like her name!" Sammi said, with explosion of understanding. Doni…Zelandonii…this woman must be a priestess or something…doesn't the doni, this woman figure, isn't it associated with some kind of Mother Cult? Sammi laughed, knowing such a thing could not be possible. That's a religion of the earliest humans….its not even been proven…maybe these people are fanatics that hang out in the wilderness and they've helped me after I hurt myself. They've really gone all out what with the furs and cups. Why don't they speak English though? Maybe I'm on a reality television show.
Sammi laughed aloud and half expected people to jump out with cameras. Zelandonii had returned to her fire, lost in thought apparently. A scratching of leather brought her head up. Sammi watched as a tall woman walked into the dwelling. Sammi blinked…twice. She had never seen a woman quite a beautiful as this one who had stopped down next to her and was looking at the brown stuff covering her leg.
Her skin was sun kissed. She had long wavy hair, which toppled down the front of her chest, partially hiding the cleavage of her high firm breasts. She had perfectly symmetrical arched eyebrows above wide blue grey eyes. Her hands were thin, fingers long, and they moved up to her cheek and then behind her head, checking her cuts and bruises. Sammi had known many men and women in her time but she could not ever remember seeing a person as stunning as the one in front of her.
This woman had a mother's touch almost and as she removed the leather from her cheek and applied some kind of sweet smelling liquid to her bumps and bruises, Sammi felt soother, forgetting the worries of where she was and how she was going to get home. She watched as she mothered her, noting, even now that she wore the same type of clothing as Zelandonii. She fiddled with the doni in her hands.
The striking woman put the now empty cup down on the floor next to the raised platform bed. She looked up at her and Sammi's hand flew to her chest, she said her name, and then laid a finger tip just below the scar in the hollow of the woman's throat.
"Ayla,"
Sammi smiled. Ayla.
Jondalar dropped his head to push aside the leather drape which closed of Ayla's dwelling from the rest of the world. He held a squirming two year old in his hands.
"Jonayla walk!" the toddler protested.
"Ok you can walk," Jondalar said placing the toddler on the ground who sped off in front of him the moment her feet touched the ground
"But stay with me," he called rushing after her scoping her up and throwing her in the air, pleased with the smile and giggles her received for this. He put her down again and this time the blonde two year, with striking vivid blue eyes, toddled beside the man of her hearth as they walked into Marthona's dwelling.
He dropped the heavy back pack he was carrying, full of prepared flint from Dalandar. Jonayla walked over to her grand mother, the bone bracelet she wore clanking softly. She walked straight up to Marthona, and imitating the man of her hearth, pressed her cubby cheek to her face.
"Would you like some of this?" Marthona asked the young child, showing her a small bowl of finely crushed grains, warmed into a mush, flavored softly with rosehips. The child nodded, and began eating with her hands, spilling more on her shirt made of deer skin than in her mouth.
"Mother," Jondalar said, stopping low to give Jonayla her eating spoon "Have you see Ayla? I wanted to knap a few blades and I was wondering if she needed anything made"
"I want to make some!" Jonayla cried her hands and face sticky with the mush.
Jonayla had a growing interest in the art of knapping flint into tools. She often sat near Jondalar as he worked and copied him, banging stones together and showing off her 'tools'. Jondalar loved this and encouraged it but he had to stop her from trying to take his hammer stone to bash into prepared flint nodules several times. He did not want Jonayla to cut her self on a lose sliver to sharp stone.
"And you can" Marthona said washing away the stocky mess with a damp piece of rabbit skin. After the mess was cleared Jonayla toddled over to the place where she kept her 'tool making things' (she had another set of these at Ayla's dwelling) pulled a piece of leather over her lap and started banging and bashing stones together.
Pride was evident in Jondalar's smile as her watched the daughter of his mate, so eager to learn his trade. Ayla says she's my daughter too, he thought watching the little girl. She does look like me in some ways, especially her eyes. Everyone says she has my eyes.
Could she really be made, brought into existence, by sharing Pleasures? By me? Jondalar wanted it to be true but feared it. It threatened his entire structure of beliefs, but it would mean that he, and the entire race of male humans, meant something more than providing for the women. It meant that they could create life too, didn't it?
His train of thought was interrupted by the leather opening being nosed aside. Wolf hobbled into the room as fast as he could, heading straight for Jonayla.
"Wolf!" the word came out of the little girls mouth in Mamutoi, and the great carnivore yipped at her and with his tail wagging happily he licked the small girls face. Jonayla giggled. Ayla came through the next holding the drape aside for Zelandonii.
Marthona grabbed the leather seat that was close to her and placed it near the fire and Zelandonii gratefully sat down. Ayla sat down in between her daughter and Jondalar, receiving a volley of licks from the wolf, who was over excited by all the people around him.
Ayla wrapped an arm around his furry neck to quite him down. The huge carnivore yawned loudly then fell to his belly besides Ayla. Joharran, who had followed the donier and the medicine woman to his mother's hearth, was pacing slowly to and from the side of the dwelling facing east to the cooking area.
Joharran was unusually nervous, but he had good reason. The strange woman was not the only one in the donier's care. His mate, Proleva, was pregnant again but this time she was having difficulties. Joharran feared that not only would the child die, but his mate would too. He had seen it before.
She had been taken over to Zelandonii's hearth earlier this morning with cramps and pains to severe she could barley walk. Zelandonii had been able to calm her spasms and she was in a drug-induced sleep but the chances of her bringing the child to full term were now slim.
"Will she be alright?" Marthona asked anxiously once this news was broken.
Ayla paused before answering, not wanting to disturb Joharran. She had seen women die in childbirth; she had seen them die from malformed fetuses, unable to exit the womb. It was a gross end to any life. Ayla was confused by Provela's case though. She had bared other children easily enough. The cause of these sudden complications made Ayla suspicious. Something was not right.
"I am not sure. If she is to survive herself, she may have to give up the child. But it is early, we will wait and see"
Joharran nodded and ceased pacing. Jonayla had stopped 'knapping' and was caught up in the tension of the room between the adults. Even in her child mind, she knew something wasn't right. The stones were still in her hands but she stopped crashing them together and was watching the events around her.
"And the other woman? Has she woken?" the leader asked, his normally cheerful voice, cold, as though he blamed the problems with Proleva with the appearance of Sammi.
"She has. She speaks with a strange tongue although we have learnt a few words of each others languages" Zelandonii replied. "She is seemingly innocent in the ways of the world though. Almost like a child" Zelandonii did not add that she also had… something else to her.
The woman had given her the same mixture of chamomile and henbane which she had given to Proleva. Both women now slept soundly. Before the young pregnant mother had been rushed into their midst Sammi and Zelandonii had started to try and communicate with one another.
Although the had not gotten past the simple needs, such as asking for water, the powerfully spiritual woman had sensed this young woman knew. What she knew she was unsure of, but she was sure Sammi was someone of great stature her home land.
But she was naive, and unsure of herself. She seemed lost, confused and scared, almost like a girl before First Rights or a boy before he made his first kill. It was strange to have someone so completely helpless yet amazingly strong in one person.
She has gifts, she thought, watching Ayla continue to tell the others of the waking of the woman. She is powerful….perhaps too powerful. And untrained, the same as Ayla was. I must learn to speak with this woman, it is important for all my people.
Zelandonii did not know, consciously, how Sammi was different. It was something she could only tell after years of training the mind and meditation. She continued to watch Ayla talk. She was sitting next to Jondalar, whose hand was rubbing her palm soothingly. Jonayla had abandoned her game of flint knapping now and had climbed onto Jondalar's lap.
The trio looked stunning together. All with blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and, although paling, golden skin. The have some role in all this too, the donier though, shifting her massive weight to a more comfortable position. Sammi had been the calmest when Ayla was there. She did not trust me at first that was clear, but then she saw Ayla…something was different then.
The people around Marthona's fire were starting to split off, returning to their own hearths. Joharran first, no doubt back to his mate. Jondalar's family were leaving now, but not before Ayla told Zelandonii that she would like to come round to check on both Sammi and Proleva later.
"Of course," Zelandonii told her "Come after you've eaten tonight. If I need you before then I'll send for you"
The young woman nodded and with her child on her hip she followed Jondalar out of the dwelling, the big wolf limping after them.
Jonayla had fallen asleep next to the fire, her food dish astray. Jondalar picked her up and gently tucked her into her sleeping place, kissing her forehead gently. He watched the rise and fall of her little chest as she breathed, lost in the depths of sleep.
It was quite in the Ninth Cave, the only noise was of the heavily ragging storm outside. Snow had begun piling up at the mouth of their home and Jondalar and many others had spent most of the afternoon shoveling it back. He smiled remembering Jonayla helping, grabbing fistfuls of the white stuff and throwing it into the storm. He loved the child of his mate more than he could describe.
He left the sleeping child and walked into the cooking area. Ayla was cleaning up the remains of their evening meal. He smiled watching her. Her long, graceful arm as they reached for an over turned cup, her hair, shimmering in the fire light. He felt the love he had for her swell up in his chest.
Ayla looked up. The intensity of the look in his eyes, violet in the firelight, was immense. She could tell what he was thinking, what he wanted by the way he moved toward her. She felt a smile creep over her face.
This was the man she loved. He was the first one of her kind she had ever known. He was the first to laugh with her, cry with her. He was the first everything. She stood up, dropping the wooden cup. Jondalar reached up and cupped her face, before lowering his mouth onto hers. She kissed him back and felt the hardness between them. She pulled back and smiled at him.
"Oh woman, how I love you," Jondalar said, his voice husky. His hand had worked it way under her shirt and his finger found the sensitive nipple. She gasped softly at the touch.
"I love you too Jondalar," she whispered, her mouth again finding his.
They made their way back to their sleeping place. Jondalar hand undone Ayla's shirt and pulled it off completely. His warm mouth kissed her neck and throat. His tongue traced the scar in the hollow before he kissed her cheeks. He dropped a little kiss of each eye lid, and then his seeking mouth found the harden nipple.
Ayla moaned and Jondalar's hand played with the other nipple, then switched alternatively. He explored with his mouth, her shapely breasts, his hand grazing across her thighs which were quivering with expectation. He moved lower, his mouth making wet circles on her flesh.
When his tongue found the top of her opening, he pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were closed, mouth open and face flushed. She was breathing deeply and her back was arched. He opened her womanly folds and took a long loving taste. Her breath exploded.
He worked the small nodule faster and as her breathing turned into pants he inserted two long fingers into her depths. The pressure from both his tongue and fingers caused Ayla to wriggle with Pleasure. Jondalar's manhood was eager and he was having trouble controlling his increasing need.
"Oh Jondalar!"
Jondalar felt Ayla's hips raise and with a cry, he tasted a new wetness. He rose up and guided his hard woman-maker into her. With a satisfying groan he pushed himself deep into her, marveling as always at her depths, her ability to take all of him.
Pushing in and out faster and stronger, Ayla met him stroke for stroke. The intensity of their desire reached its pinnacle and with shuddering release simultaneously. Jondalar rested his head on Ayla's shoulder, their breathing heavy. Lying under him, Ayla could feel Jondalar's rapidly beating heart start to slow.
She felt him pull his spent member out of her and they snuggled up together. She reached over and kissed his mouth, delighted that she could smell the scent of their pleasures between them.
They both lay their in the delicious sleepy aftermath, relaxed. The mood was very suddenly broken by yells and screaming. Ayla sat up as she heard footsteps thud into her dwelling. Lanoga appeared, her face flushed from running.
"Ayla they need you! It's Proleva!"