Mammoth Hunters by Jean M. Auel Read Free Book Online Page B

People, but great charm—and mystery.” His smile drew Ayla’s eyes, with the contrast between white teeth and dark skin, and his dark eyes sparkled with a knowing look.
    “Greetings,” Wymez said, as simple and direct as Ranec had been elaborate. “You work the stone?”
    “Yes, I’m a flint knapper,” Jondalar replied.
    “I have some excellent stone with me. It’s fresh from the source, hasn’t dried out at all.”
    “I’ve got a hammerstone, and a good punch in my pack,” Jondalar said, immediately interested. “Do you use a punch?”
    Ranec gave Ayla a pained look as their conversation quickly turned to their mutual skill. “I could have told you this would happen,” he said. “Do you know what the worst part of living at the hearth of a master toolmaker is? It’s not always having stone chips in your furs, it’s always having stone talk in your ears. And after Danug showed an interest … stone, stone, stone … that’s all I heard.” Ranec’s warm smile belied his complaint, and everyone had obviously heard it before, since no one paid much attention, except Danug.
    “I didn’t know it bothered you so much,” the young man said.
    “It didn’t,” Wymez said to the youngster. “Can’t you tell when Ranec is trying to impress a pretty woman?”
    “Actually, I’m grateful to you, Danug. Until you came along, I think he was hoping to turn me into a flint worker,” Ranec said to relieve Danug’s concern.
    “Not after I realized your only interest in my tools was to carve ivory with them, and that wasn’t long after we got here,” Wymez said, then he smiled and added, “And if you think chips of flint in your bed are bad, you ought to try ivory dust in your food.”
    The two dissimilar men were smiling at each other, and Ayla realized with relief that they were joking, teasing each other verbally, in a friendly way. She also noticed that for all their difference in color and Ranec’s exotic features, their smile was similar, and their bodies moved the same way.
    Suddenly shouting could be heard coming from inside the longhouse. “Keep out of it, old woman! This is between Fralie and me.” It was a man’s voice, the man of the sixth hearth, next to the last one. Ayla recalled meeting him.
    “I don’t know why she chose you, Frebec! I should never have allowed it!” a woman screeched back at the man. Suddenly an older woman burst out through the archway, dragging a crying young woman with her. Two bewildered boys followed, one about seven, the other a toddler of two with a bare bottom and a thumb in his mouth.
    “It’s all your fault. She listens to you too much. Why don’t you stop interfering?”
    Everyone turned away—they had heard it all before, too many times. But Ayla stared in amazement. No woman of the Clan would have argued with any man like that.
    “Frebec and Crozie are at it again, don’t mind them,” said Tronie. She was the woman from the fifth hearth—the ReindeerHearth, Ayla recalled. It was the next after the Mammoth Hearth, where she and Jondalar were staying. The woman was holding a baby boy to her breast.
    Ayla had met the young mother from the neighboring hearth earlier and was drawn to her. Tornec, her mate, picked up the three-year-old who was clinging to her mother, still not accepting of the new baby who had usurped her place at her mother’s breast. They were a warm and loving young couple, and Ayla was glad they were the ones who lived at the next hearth rather than the ones who squabbled. Manuv, who lived with them, had come to talk to her while they were eating, and told her that he had been the man of the hearth when Tornec was young, and was the son of a cousin of Mamut. He said he often spent time at the fourth hearth, which pleased her She always did have a special fondness for older people.
    She wasn’t as comfortable with the neighboring hearth on the other side, the third one. Ranec lived there—he had called it the Fox Hearth. She