The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [97]
When Ayla reached for Zanacan’s hand and brought it to Wolf’s nose, she could feel the slight resistance, a tendency to pull back at first. But once he realized that nothing bad would happen, his innate curiosity and interest were aroused. “His nose is cold, and wet,” he said.
“That means he’s healthy. How did you think a wolf’s nose should feel?” Ayla said. “Or his fur? What do you think that feels like?” She moved his hand to stroke his head, and feel the fur along his neck and back. She went through a similar process with the other two young people, while many others stood back and watched.
“His fur is smooth and rough, and he’s warm,” Zanacan said.
“He’s alive. Living animals are warm, most of them. Birds are very warm, fish are cool, and snakes can be either,” Ayla said.
“How do you know so much about animals?” Gallara said.
“She’s a hunter, and she’s caught almost every kind of animal there is,” Jondalar said. “She can kill a hyena with a stone, catch a fish with her bare hand, and birds come to her whistle, but she usually lets them go. Just this spring, she led a lion hunt, and killed at least two with her spear-thrower.”
“I didn’t lead the hunt,” Ayla said, frowning. “Joharran did.”
“Ask him,” Jondalar said. “He says you led the hunt. You were the one who knew about lions, and how to go after them.”
“I thought she was a Zelandoni, not a hunter,” Kaleshal said.
“She’s not a Zelandoni yet,” Galliadal said. “She’s an acolyte, in training, but I understand a very good healer already.”
“How can she know so many things?” Kaleshal asked, doubt in his tone.
“She had no choice,” Jondalar said. “She lost her people when she was a five-year, was adopted by strangers and had to learn their ways, then lived alone for a few years before I found her, or I should say, she found me. I had been attacked by a lion. She rescued me, and treated my wounds. When you lose everything at such a young age, you have to adapt and learn quickly or you won’t survive. She’s alive because she was able to learn so many things.”
Ayla was paying attention to Wolf, stroking him and rubbing behind his ears, keeping her head down, trying not to listen. It always embarrassed her when people talked about her as though the things she had done were accomplishments. It made her feel as though she thought she was important, and that made her uncomfortable. She didn’t think she was important, and she didn’t like being singled out as different. She was just a woman, and a mother, who had found a man to love and people like herself, most of whom had come to accept her as one of them. Once she had wanted to be a good Clan woman; now she just wanted to be a good Zelandonii woman.
Levela walked up to Ayla and Wolf. “I think they are getting ready to tell the next story,” she said. “Are you staying to hear it?”
“I don’t think so,” Ayla said. “Jondalar may want to stay. I’ll ask him, but I think I’ll come back another time to listen to stories. Are you staying?”
“I thought I might see if there is anything good left to eat. I’m getting a little hungry, but I’m tired, too. I may go back to our camp soon,” Levela said.
“I’ll go with you to get something to eat. Then I have to pick up Jonayla from your sister.” Ayla took a few steps to where Jondalar and the others were talking, and waited until there was a break in the conversation. “Are you going to stay to hear the next story?” she asked.
“What do you want to do?”
“I’m getting tired and so is Levela. We thought we’d go and see if there is anything good left to eat,” Ayla said.
“That sounds fine to me. We can come back another time to listen to more stories. Is Jondecam coming?” Jondalar said.
“Yes, I am.” They heard his voice coming toward them. “Wherever you are going.”
The four of them left the storytellers’ camp and headed for the area where the food had been gathered together. Everything was cold, but cold slices of bison and venison were still tasty. Globular root vegetables of some variety were soaking in a rich broth that had a thin layer