The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [225]
It was true, Ayla did welcome Ranec’s company. She wasn’t sure what was causing Jondalar to be so aloof, but she felt certain it was something that she was doing wrong. Ranec’s attentive presence made her feel that her behavior could not he entirely inappropriate.
Latie was standing beside Ayla, her eyes bright with interest in the wolf puppy she held. Ranec joined them.
“That was a sight I’ll never forget, Ayla,” Ranec said. “That tiny thing touching noses with that huge horse. He’s a brave little wolf.”
She looked up and smiled, as pleased at Ranec’s praise as she would have been if the animal were her own child. “Wolf was frightened at first. They are much bigger than he is. I’m glad they made friends so fast.”
“Is that what you are going to call him? Wolf?” Latie asked.
“I haven’t really thought about it. It does seem a fitting name, though.”
“I can’t think of one more fitting,” Ranec conceded.
“What do you think, Wolf?” Ayla asked, holding the baby wolf up and looking at him. The puppy squirmed toward her eagerly, and licked her face. They all smiled.
“I think he likes it,” Latie said.
“You do know animals, Ayla,” Ranec said, then with a questioning look, he added, “There is something I’d like to ask you, though. How did you know the horses wouldn’t hurt him? Wolf packs hunt horses, and I’ve seen horses kill wolves. They are mortal enemies.”
Ayla paused and considered. “I’m not sure. I just knew. Maybe because of Baby. Cave lions kill horses, too, but you should have seen Whinney with him when he was little. She was so protective, like a mother, or at least an aunt. Whinney knew a baby wolf couldn’t hurt her, and Racer seemed to know it, too. I think if you start when they are babies, many animals can be friends, and friends of people, too.”
“Is that why Whinney and Racer are your friends?” Latie asked.
“Yes, I think so. We’ve had time to get used to each other. That’s what Wolf needs.”
“Do you think he might get used to me?” Latie asked, with such yearning, Ayla smiled with recognition of the feeling.
“Here,” she said, holding the puppy out to the girl. “Hold him.”
Latie cuddled the warm and wriggling animal in her arms, then bent her cheek to feel the soft fuzzy fur. Wolf licked her face, too, including her in his pack.
“I think he likes me,” Latie said. “He just kissed me!”
Ayla smiled at the delighted reaction. She knew such friendliness was natural to wolf puppies; the humans seemed to find it as irresistible as adult wolves did. Only when they grew older did wolves become shy, defensive, and suspicious of strangers.
The young woman observed the pup with curiosity as Latie held him. Wolf’s coat was still the unshaded dark gray color of the very young. Only later would the hair develop the dark and light bars of the typical agouti coloration of an adult wolf—if it would at all. His mother had been solid black, even darker than the pup, and Ayla wondered what color Wolf would turn out to be.
They all turned their heads at Crozie’s screech.
“Your promises mean nothing! You promised me respect! You promised I would always be welcome, no matter what!”
“I know what I promised. You don’t have to remind me,” Frebec shouted.
The squabble was not unexpected. The long winter had provided time to make and mend, to carve and to weave, to tell stories, sing songs, play games and musical instruments; to indulge in all the pastimes and diversions ever invented. But as the long season drew to a close, it was also the time when close confinement caused tempers to flare. The undercurrent