The wolf headed north, but took a more easterly direction than they had been traveling. If what he had scented was the group they were supposed to meet, they seemed to have veered off the infrequently marked trail, or perhaps they had traveled into the eastern highland for some other reason. Wolf moved with single-minded purpose using the ground-covering lope that was common to his species; the horses with Whinney in the lead followed behind. They traveled all morning and past the time when they would normally have stopped for a midday meal.
Ayla thought she caught a whiff of something burning, then Jondalar called out to her, “Ayla, do you see smoke ahead?”
She did see a faint trace of smoke rising in the distance and urged Whinney to a faster pace. She was holding Gray’s lead rope, and glanced back at her beloved daughter on the young mare’s back to make sure Jonayla was prepared for the increased speed. The girl smiled at her mother in excitement, which indicated that she was prepared. Jonayla loved riding her horse by herself. Even when her mother or Jondalar wanted her to ride in front on one of their mounts for safety because the trail was rough, or so she could rest and not have to hold on as firmly, the child resisted, though it seldom did any good.
When they saw a camp with people around it, they slowed down as they approached. They weren’t sure who the people were. Someone else could also be traveling, and rushing into a camp of strangers on the backs of horses could cause distress for everyone.
23
Then Ayla saw a man as tall as Jondalar with blond hair. He also saw her. “Kimeran! We’ve been looking for you! I’m so glad we found you,” Ayla said, with relief in her voice.
“Ayla!” Kimeran said. “Is it really you?”
“And how did you find us?” Jondecam said. “How did you know where to look?”
“Wolf found you. He has a good nose,” Ayla said.
“We went to Camora’s Cave, expecting to meet you there, but they were surprised to see us,” Jondalar said. “Everyone was getting worried, especially your sister, Jondecam. So I suggested we go back on the horses along the trail that I thought you would take, because they can go much faster than people.”
“But we went off the trail to find a place to make a good camp when the children got sick,” Levela said.
“You say the children are sick?” Ayla asked.
“Yes, and Beladora, too,” Kimeran said. “Maybe you shouldn’t come too close. Ginadela got it first. She was hot, feverish, then Levela’s son, Jonlevan, and then Beladora. I thought Gioneran might avoid it, but about the time that Ginadela started to get red spots all over her, he started getting feverish.”
“We didn’t know what to do for them, except let them rest, make sure they drank plenty of water, and try to cool the fever with wet compresses,” Levela said.
“You did the right thing,” Ayla said. “I’ve seen something like this before. At the Mamutoi Summer Meeting, when I was spending a lot of time with the mamuti. They are like the zelandonia, the ones who know the spirit world, and are healers. One of the Camps arrived with several people who were sick, mostly children. The Mamuti made them stay at the far edge of the Meeting Camp, and posted several Mamuti to make everyone else stay away. They were afraid most of the people at the Summer Meeting would get the sickness.”
“Then you should make sure that Jonayla doesn’t play with the children,” Levela said, “and you should stay away.”
“Are they still hot and feverish?” Ayla asked.
“Not much anymore, but they are full of red spots.”
“I’ll take a look at them, but if they are not feverish, it may be all right. The Mamutoi think it is an ailment of childhood, and they say it’s better if you get it as a child. Children tend to recover more easily,” Ayla said. “It’s harder on adults.”
“That’s true for Beladora. I think she was sicker than the children,” Kimeran said. “She’s still weak.”
“The mamuti told me the fever is more intense and lingers, and the spots take longer to go away if you get it after you are grown,” Ayla said. “Why don’t you take me to see Beladora and the children.”
Their tent had two tops. A primary pole held up the higher one, and a thin wisp of smoke was coming out of a hole near the top of that one. A smaller pole supported an extension of the tent, making more room. The entrance was a little low and Ayla ducked to go inside. Beladora was lying on a sleeping roll in the enlarged area. The three children were sitting up on their bedrolls but did not seem to feel very energetic. Three other sleeping places were in the other side, two together and one separate. Kimeran came in after Ayla. He could stand erect near the pole in that section, but had to bend over or stoop to move around in the rest of the tent.
Ayla first went to check on the children. The youngest, Levela’s son Jonlevan, seemed to be over his fever, though he was still listless and covered with red spots that seemed to be itchy.
He smiled when he saw Ayla. “Where’s Jonayla?” he asked. The woman recalled that she liked to play with him. He could count three years to her four, but he was approaching her in height. She liked to play his mother or sometimes his mate, and boss him around. They were cousins since his mother, Levela, was the sister of Proleva, who was mated to Jondalar’s brother, Joharran, close cousins who would not be allowed to mate.
“She’s outside,” Ayla said as she put the back of her hand on his forehead; it wasn’t abnormally hot, and his eyes didn’t have the glazed look of fever. “I think you are feeling better, aren’t you? Not so hot anymore?”
“I wan’ play wif’ Jonayla.”
“Not yet, maybe in a little while,” Ayla said.
She checked out Ginadela next. She also seemed well on the way to recovery, though her red spots were certainly colorful. “I want to play with Jonayla, too,” she said. The twins could count five years, and just as Kimeran and Jondalar resembled each other—both were tall and blond—though they were not related, Jonayla and Ginadela were also blond and fair with blue eyes, though Jonayla had the same vivid, startling blue color of Jondalar’s eyes.
Gioneran, Ginadela’s twin, had rather dark brown hair, and brownish-green hazel eyes, like his mother, but he seemed to have some of Kimeran’s height. When Ayla put the back of her hand to his head, there was still some heat, and his eyes had the shiny look of fever. His spots were coming on strong, but they seemed a little raw, not as distinctly developed.
“I’ll give you something to make you feel better in a little while,” she said to the boy. “Would you like a drink of water now? Then I think you should lie down.”