![]() ![]() ![]() She was no longer in heat, but residual odors still clung from her encounter with the herd stallion. In addition to the tension of seeing strange people, the young brown horse was still agitated around his dam. She nodded, lifted her leg over, slid down from the mare’s back, and took the rope. ![]() “Ayla, will you hold Racer’s rope? He seems nervous,” he said, then looked up at the ledge. He turned around and noticed that she was hanging back. He was neither reluctant nor uneasy, but he hesitated for a moment, holding the stallion’s halter rope. The tall man jumped down from the back of the young stallion. ![]() It’s not just them, she told herself, it’s always that way in the beginning. She had seen that reluctance to greet them from other people they had met on their Journey. She watched from the bottom of the path as more people crowded together on the ledge, staring down, many more than she thought there would be. The young woman could almost feel their edgy fear. No one made a gesture of welcome, and some held spears in positions of readiness if not actual threat. People were gathering on the limestone ledge, looking down at them warily. Auel Crown Publishers Copyright © 2002 Jean M. ![]()
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