THE SHELTERS OF STONE

The blizzard lasted through the night, the following day, and the next night. Nothing could be seen except the moving curtain of white, not even just across The River. At times the snow, caught in a crosscurrent of moving air buffeting the high cliff and finding no outlet, rebounded against the primary direction of the prevailing winds in a vortex of swirling flakes. At other times, when the driving winds died down, snow fell heavily straight down in a constant hypnotic motion.

Ayla was glad for the protective overhang of the abri that extended all the way to the horses' area, though during the first night she was concerned, not knowing whether they had found their way to the shelter before the snows became too deep. If her horses had found some other shelter, she was afraid she would have been cut off from contact with them and they would be isolated, imprisoned, by the thick white mantle of snow.

She was relieved to hear a nicker when she approached their shelter early the next morning, and breathed a deep sigh when she saw both horses, but as she greeted them, she could tell they were nervous. They were not familiar with such deep snow, either. She decided to spend some time with the horses and groom them with teasel brushes, which usually comforted them and relaxed her.

But when she found them safe in their shelter, she wondered where the wild horses were. Had they migrated to the colder, drier region to the north and east, where the snow would not be as deep and would not cover the dry, standing hay that was their winter feed?

She was glad now that they had collected piles of grass for the horses, not just grains, to supplement their forage. It had been Jondalar's idea. He had known how deep the snow could get, she had not. Now she wondered if they had collected enough. The horses were adapted to the cold, she wasn't worried about that. Their coats had grown in thick and full, both the downy underlayer and the shaggy outer coat protected their stocky, compact bodies, but would they have enough grass?

Winters in the land where Jondalar's people lived were cold, but not dry. Their main feature was snow, heavy, air-choking, high-drifting snow. She hadn't seen so much snow since she lived with the Clan. She had become more used to the dry, frozen loess steppes that leached moisture from the atmosphere, farther inland around her valley and the territory of the Mammoth Hunters. Here, where the climate was subject to the maritime influences of the Great Waters of the West, the landscape was known as continental steppes. Winter was wetter and snowier, resembling somewhat the climate of the place where she grew up, the mountainous tip of a peninsula jutting into an inland sea far to the east.

The heavy snow piled up on the front ledge filled the lower half of the opening under the overhang with a solid barrier of soft snow that gleamed at night in the golden reflection of the fires inside the abri. Now Ayla knew why stout logs were used to support the many crosspieces covered with hides for the protected passageway leading to the exterior enclosure that was used instead of the trenches for wastes during the winter.

The second morning after the snow began, Ayla woke to the smiling face of Jondalar standing beside the sleeping platform, shaking her gently. His cheeks were red with cold, and his heavy outer clothing still bore traces of unmelted snow. He had a hot cup of tea in his hand.

"Come on, sleepy, get up. I remember when you used to be up long before me. There's still some food left. The snow has stopped. Dress warmly and come outside," he said. "Maybe you should wear those undergarments you got from Marona and friends."

"Have you been out already?" she asked, sitting up and taking a drink of the hot tea. "I do seem to need more sleep lately." Jondalar waited while she freshened up, had a quick morning meal, and began to dress, trying to refrain from urging her too much.

"Jondalar, I can't close these pants over my stomach. And that top will never fit. Are you sure you want me to wear this outfit? I don't want to stretch them out."

"The pants are most important. It won't matter if you can't close them all the way. Do the best you can. You'll be wearing your other clothes over them. Here are your boots. Where is your parka?" Jondalar said.

As they headed out of the abri, Ayla could see the radiant blue sky and the glowing sunlight streaming down on the ledge. Several people had obviously been up early. The path down to Wood River had been cleared of the accumulation of snow, and limestone gravel from underneath the abri had been strewn on the downslope to make it less slippery. On either side the walls of snow were chest high, but as she looked out over the countryside, she caught her breath.