The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [218]
“That’s a wolf!” Druwez said, eying his sister with awe. “Where did you get that wolf?”
“Wait until you see what Ayla has,” Deegie said, taking the white foxes out of her haversack.
Ayla was dumping frozen ermine out of her carrier with one hand, holding the other carefully against her midriff on top of her warm, hooded fur tunic.
“Those are very nice ermine,” Druwez said, not nearly as impressed with the small white weasels as he was with the black wolf, but not wanting to offend.
Ayla smiled at the boy, then she untied the thong she had belted around her parka, and reaching under, withdrew a small gray ball of fur. Everyone looked to see what she had. Suddenly it moved.
The wolf puppy had slept comfortably against Ayla’s warm body underneath her outer garment, but the light, and the noise, and the unfamiliar smells were frightening. The pup whimpered and tried to snuggle against the woman whose smell and warmth had become familiar. She put the small fuzzy creature down on the soil of the drawing pit. The puppy stood up, wobbled a few steps, then promptly squatted and made a puddle that was quickly absorbed by the soft, dry dirt.
“It’s a wolf!” Danug said.
“A baby wolf!” Latie added, her eyes filled with delight.
Ayla noticed Rydag hunkering close to look at the small animal. He reached out a hand, and the puppy sniffed it, and then licked it. Rydag’s smile was pure joy.
“Where you get little wolf, Ayla?” the boy signed.
“Is long story,” she signaled back, “will tell later.” She quickly pulled off her parka. Nezzie took it and handed her a cup of hot tea. She smiled gratefully and took a sip.
“It doesn’t matter where she got it. What is she going to do with it?” Frebec demanded. Ayla knew he understood the silent language, though he claimed he didn’t. He had obviously understood Rydag. She turned and faced him.
“I am going to take care of it, Frebec,” Ayla said, her eyes blazing with defiance. “I killed its mother”—she motioned toward the black wolf—“and I’m going to take care of this baby.”
“That’s not a baby. That’s a wolf! An animal that can hurt people,” he said. Ayla seldom took such a strong stand with him or anyone, and he had discovered she would often give in on small issues to avoid conflict if he was nasty enough. He didn’t expect the direct confrontation, and he didn’t like it, especially when he could sense it was not likely to go his way.
Manuv looked at the wolf puppy, and then at Frebec, and his face split into a wide grin. “Are you afraid that animal is going to hurt you, Frebec?”
The raucous laughter made Frebec flush with anger. “I didn’t mean that. I mean wolves can hurt people. First it’s horses, now it’s wolves. What next? I am not an animal, and I don’t want to live with animals,” he said. Then he stomped away, not ready to test whether the rest of the Lion Camp would rather have him or Ayla and her animals if he forced them to make a choice.
“Do you have meat left from that bison roast, Nezzie?”
“You must be starving. I’ll fix you a plate of dinner.”
“Not for me. For the wolf puppy,” Ayla said.
Nezzie brought Ayla a slab of roast meat, wondering how such a small wolf was going to eat it. But Ayla remembered a lesson she had learned long ago: babies can eat whatever their mothers eat, but it must be softer and easier to chew and swallow. She had once brought an injured young cave lion cub to her valley and fed him meat and broth instead of milk. Wolves were meat eaters, too. She recalled that when she was watching wolves to learn about them, older wolves often chewed up food and swallowed it to bring it back to the den, then regurgitated it for the puppies. But she didn’t have to chew it up, she had hands and a sharp knife, she could cut it up.
After mincing the meat to a pulp, Ayla put it in a bowl and added warm water, to bring the temperature closer to mother’s milk. The puppy had been