The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [197]
Ayla bent closer to the woman as Wolf crept closer. “I think he feels that way about you. I think he knows that you were hurt, and he wants to protect you. See, he’s trying to reach you, but he’s being very careful about it. Have you ever touched a living wolf before? Their fur is soft in some places and coarse in others. If you give me your hand, I’ll show you.”
Without warning, Ayla reached for the woman’s hand and, before she could pull it away, put it on the top of Wolf’s head, as the animal laid his head down on her leg. “He’s warm, isn’t he? And he likes it when you rub behind his ears.”
Ayla felt her start to rub Wolf’s head, then took her hand away. She had felt the scarring, and the stiffness where the skin had pulled tight as it healed, but she seemed to have the use of her hand. “How did it happen? Your burns?” Ayla asked.
“I filled a cooking basket with hot stones, and added a few more until it was boiling, then I tried to move it over. It split open and the hot water splashed all over me,” she said. “It was so stupid! I knew that basket was wearing out. I should have stopped using it, but I was just going to make some tea, and it was nearby.”
Ayla nodded. “Sometimes we don’t stop to think. Do you have a mate? Or children?”
“Yes, I have a mate, and children, a boy and girl. I told him to take them to the Summer Meeting. No reason for them to pay the price for my stupidity. It was my fault that I can’t go anymore.”
“Why can’t you go anymore? You can walk, can’t you? You didn’t burn your legs or feet.”
“I don’t want people looking at me with pity for my scarred face and hands,” the woman said angrily, as tears came to her eyes. She moved her hand away from Wolf’s head and put the blanket back over her head.
“Yes, some people will look at you with pity, but we all have accidents, and some people are born with worse problems. I don’t think you can let it stop you from living. Your face is not that bad, and with time the scars will fade and won’t show as much. The scars on your hands and probably your arms are worse, but you can use your hands, can’t you?”
“Some. Not the way I used to.”
“They will get better, too.”
“How do you know so much? Who are you?” the woman said.
“I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandoni,” Ayla said, holding out her hands in formal greeting as she began reciting her names and ties, “Acolyte of the One Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother …” She went through all her usual names and ties because it gave her something to say. She ended with “Friend of the horses, Whinney, Racer, and Gray, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf—his name just means ‘wolf’ in the Mamutoi language. I greet you in the name of Doni, Mother of All.”
“You are the acolyte of the First? Her First Acolyte?” the woman said, forgetting her manners for the moment.
“Her only acolyte, although her former acolyte is with us, too. He is Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave now.” Ayla said. “We have come to see your Sacred Site.”
The woman suddenly realized that she was going to have to extend her hands and take hold of the hands of this young woman to formally introduce herself to the acolyte of the First, who had obviously traveled far and seemed so accomplished. This was one of the main reasons she hadn’t wanted to go to the Summer Meeting. She would have had to show not only her face but her burned hands to everyone she met. She bowed her head and thought about hiding them under the cover and saying she was unable to greet her properly, but the acolyte had already touched her hand and knew that wasn’t true. Finally, she took a deep breath, then pushed the blanket away and held out her badly burned hands.
“I am Dulana of the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii,” she said, beginning to recite her names and ties.
Ayla, holding both of her hands, concentrated on them. They were stiff and the skin was stretched, bumpy and irregular, and probably still a little painful, she thought.
“… in