The young brown stallion backed away, intimidated, and could not be coaxed to move in closer, much to the frustration of his human companions. From a safe distance, he neighed to his dam, and they heard Whinney's familiar answering nicker. Ayla and Jondalar dismounted to discuss the situation.

"What are we going to do, Jondalar?" Ayla wailed. "They won't let her go. How are we going to get her?"

"Don't worry, we will," he said. "If necessary, we'll use the spear-throwers, but I don't think we'll have to."

His assurance calmed her, and she hadn't thought of the spear-throwers. She didn't want to kill any horses if she didn't have to, but she'd do anything to get Whinney back. "Do you have a plan?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure this herd has been hunted before, so they have some fear of people. That gives us an advantage. The herd stallion probably thinks Racer was trying to challenge him. He and that big mare were trying to keep him from stealing one of their herd. So we have to keep Racer away," Jondalar began. "Whinney will come when you whistle for her. If I can distract the stallion, you can help her avoid the mare until you get close enough to get on her back. Then, if you shout at the big mare, or even poke her with your spear if she crowds in on Whinney, I think she'll keep her distance until you ride away."

Ayla smiled, feeling relieved. "It sounds easy enough. What will we do with Racer?"

"There was a rock a little ways back with a couple of bushes growing near it. I can tether him to one of them. It wouldn't hold if he really fought it, but he's used to being tied, and I think he'll stay there." Taking the young stallion's lead rope, Jondalar started back with long strides.

When they reached the rock, Jondalar said, "Here, take your spear-thrower and a spear or two." Then he slipped off the backpack. "I'm going to take this off and leave it for now. It limits my movement." He took his own thrower and spears out of the holder. "Once you get Whinney, you can get Racer and come back for me."

The highland angled in a northeast-to-southwest direction, with a gradual incline on the north that became somewhat steeper toward the east. At the southwestern end, it jutted up like a precipice. On the western side, facing the river they had crossed earlier, it fell off sharply enough, but toward the south and the Great Mother River there was a high precipice with a sheer drop. As Ayla and Jondalar walked back toward the horses, the day was clear, and the sun was high in the sky, though well past its zenith. They looked over the steep western edge, then shied back from it, afraid that a misstep or a stumble might carry them down.

When they got closer to the grazing herd, they stopped and tried to find Whinney. The herd – mares, foals, and yearlings – was grazing in the middle of a field of waist-high dry grass; the herd stallion was off to one side, somewhat away from the others. Ayla thought she saw her horse far back, toward the south. She whistled, the dun-yellow mare's head came up, and Whinney started toward them. With his spear-thrower in hand and a spear in place ready to go, Jondalar slowly edged toward the cream-colored stallion, attempting to get between him and the herd, while Ayla walked toward the mares, determined to reach Whinney.

While she was working her way toward the mare, some of the horses stopped grazing and looked up, but they weren't looking at her. She had a sudden feeling that something was not right. She turned around to look for Jondalar, and she saw a wisp of smoke, and then another. It was the smell of smoke she had noticed. The field of dry grass was ablaze in several places. Suddenly, through the haze of the smoke, she saw figures running toward the horses, shouting and brandishing torches! They were chasing the horses toward the edge of the field, toward the sharp drop-off, and Whinney was among them!

The horses were beginning to panic, but among the high-pitched sounds she thought she heard a familiar neigh coming from another direction. Looking north, she spied Racer with his lead rope dragging behind, running toward the herd. Why did he have to break loose now? And where was Jondalar? The air was filled with more than smoke. She could feel the tension and smell the contagious fear of the horses as they started moving away from the fire.

Horses were jostling around her, and she couldn't see Whinney any more, but Racer was coming toward her, running fast, caught up in the panic. She whistled loud and long, then made a dash for him. He slowed and turned in her direction, but his ears were laid flat back and his eyes were rolling with fear. She reached him and grabbed for the rope dangling from his halter, yanking his head around. He screamed and reared as horses dodged around him. The rope burned as he yanked it through Ayla's hands, but she held on, and when his forefeet touched the ground, she grabbed his mane and leaped up on his back.

Racer reared again. Ayla was nearly thrown, but she held on. The horse was still full of fear, but he was used to a weight on his back. There was a comfort in it, and in the familiar woman. He settled down to a run, but it was difficult for her to control the horse Jondalar had trained. Though she had ridden Racer a few times and knew the signals that had been developed for the horse, she was not accustomed to guiding with reins or a rope. The man had used both with equal ease, and the stallion knew the confidence of his usual rider. He did not respond well to Ayla's first tentative attempts, but she was looking for Whinney while trying to settle him down, and she was distracted by her anxious need to find her friend.

Horses were running, crowding together all around her, neighing, whinnying, screaming, and their fear was strong in her nostrils. She whistled again, loud and piercing, but she wasn't sure if she could be heard above the din, and she knew the urge to run was powerful.

Suddenly, in the haze of dust and smoke, Ayla saw a horse slow, try to turn away and resist the urgings of the panicked horses racing past her, communicating their fear of the fire. Though her coat was the color of the choking air, Ayla knew it was Whinney. She whistled again to encourage her, and she saw her beloved mare stop, undecided. The instinct to run with the herd was strong in her, but that whistle had always meant safety, security, love, and she was not as frightened of the fire. She had been raised with the smell of smoke nearby. It had only signaled the proximity of people.

Ayla saw Whinney standing her ground while other horses brushed close or bumped her while trying to avoid her. The woman urged Racer forward. The mare started to turn back toward the woman, but a light-colored horse suddenly appeared, seemingly out of the dust. The big herd stallion tried to head her off, screaming a warning challenge at Racer, even in his panic, trying to keep his new mare away from the younger male. This time Racer screamed a response, then pranced and pawed the ground and started for the bigger animal, forgetting in all the excitement that he was too young and inexperienced to fight a mature stallion.

Then, for some reason – a sudden change of mind or contagion of fear – the stallion wheeled and pounded away. Whinney started to follow, and Racer rushed to overtake her. As the herd raced closer and closer to the edge of the cliff and the sure death waiting below, the mare with a coat the color of sun-ripened hay and the young brown stallion she had foaled, with the woman on his back, were being carried along with them! With fierce determination, Ayla pulled Racer to a stop in front of his dam. He whinnied with fear, wanting to run in panic with the rest of the horses, but he was held in check by the woman and the commands he was trained to obey.

Then all the horses had passed her by. As Whinney and Racer stood shivering with fear, the last of the herd disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Ayla shuddered at the distant sound of neighing, screaming, whinnying horses, and then she was stunned by the silence. Whinney and Racer and she, herself, could have been with them. She breathed deeply at the close call, then looked around for Jondalar.