The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [95]
She was drawn back into Galliadal’s storytelling. “The taste of warm blood running down his throat was delicious and Wolafon quickly devoured the hare. He went back to the river for another drink and cleaned the blood off his fur. Then he nosed around looking for a secure place. When he found one, he curled up and using his tail to cover his face, he went to sleep. When he woke up again, it was dark, but he could see better at night than he ever had before. He stretched languorously, lifted his leg and sprayed a bush, then went out hunting again.” The young man on the platform did a good job of mimicking a wolf’s actions, and when he lifted his leg, the audience laughed.
“Wolafon lived in the cave that had been abandoned by the old woman for some time, hunting for himself and enjoying it, but after a while he began to get lonely. The boy had become a wolf, but he was still a boy, too, and he began to think about returning home to see his mother, and the attractive young woman from the south. He headed back toward the Cave of his mother, running with the ease of a wolf. When he saw a young deer who had strayed away from its mother, he remembered that the girl from the south liked to eat meat, and decided he would hunt it and bring it to her.
“When Wolafon got close, some people saw him coming and were afraid. They wondered why a wolf was dragging a deer toward their home. He saw the attractive young woman, but he didn’t notice the tall, handsome, fair-haired man standing beside her holding a new kind of weapon that enabled him to throw spears very far and fast, but as the man was preparing to cast a spear, Wolafon dragged the meat to the woman and dropped it at her feet. Then he sat down in front of her and looked up. He was trying to tell her that he loved her, but Wolafon couldn’t speak anymore. He could only show his love by his actions and the look in his eyes, and it was obvious that he was a wolf who loved a woman.”
All of the people in the audience turned to stare at Ayla and the wolf at her feet, most of them smiling. Some began to laugh, then others started to slap their knees in applause. Although it wasn’t quite where Galliadal had intended to end the story, the response from the listeners made him realize that it was a good place to stop.
Ayla felt embarrassed to be the center of so much attention, and looked at Jondalar. He was smiling, too, and slapping his knees.
“That was a good story,” he said.
“But none of it is true,” she said.
“Some of it is,” Jondalar said, looking down at the wolf who was now standing in an alert and protective posture in front of Ayla. “There is a wolf who loves a woman.”
She reached down to stroke the animal. “Yes, I think you are right.”
“Most of the stories that storytellers tell are not true, but they often have some truth in them, or satisfy a desire for an answer. You have to admit, it was a good story. And if someone didn’t know that you found Wolf as a very young cub alone in his den, with no siblings, or pack, or mother left alive, Galliadal’s story could indulge their wish to know, even if they understood that it probably wasn’t true.”
Ayla looked at Jondalar and nodded; then they both turned and smiled at Galliadal and the others on the platform. The storyteller acknowledged them with an elaborate bow.
The audience was getting up and moving around again, and the storytellers stepped down from the platform to make room for a different set of people to tell a story. They joined the group around Ayla and Wolf.
“It was incredible when the wolf appeared. He came at just the right time,” said the young man who had portrayed the boy-wolf. “It couldn’t have been better if we’d planned it. I don’t suppose you’d like to come and bring him every night?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Zanacan,” Galliadal said. “Everyone will be talking about the story we told this evening. If it happened all the time, it would take away the special quality of tonight. And I’m sure Ayla has other things to do. She is a mother, and the