The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [115]
Single pairs of another variety of pelican with somewhat different markings, and earlier hatched, more mature young, nested at the edges of the large colony Within and around the compact aggregation other species of water birds were also nesting and breeding: cormorants, grebes, and a variety of ducks, including white-eyed and red-crested pochards and ordinary mallards. The marsh teemed with a profusion of birds, all hunting and eating the countless fish.
The entire vast delta was an extravagant, ostentatious demonstration of natural abundance; a wealth of life flaunted without shame. Unspoiled, undamaged, ruled by her own natural law and subject only to her own will—and the great void whence she sprang—the great Mother Earth took pleasure in creating and sustaining life in all its prolific diversity. But pillaged by a plundering dominion, raped of her resources, despoiled by unchecked pollution, and befouled by excess and corruption, her fecund ability to create and sustain could be undone.
Though rendered sterile by destructive subjugation, her great productive fertility exhausted, the final irony would still be hers. Even barren and stripped, the destitute mother possessed the power to destroy what she had wrought. Dominion cannot be imposed; her riches cannot be taken without seeking her consent, wooing her cooperation, and respecting her needs. Her will to life cannot be suppressed without paying the ultimate penalty. Without her, the presumptuous life she created could not survive.
Though Ayla could have watched the pelicans for much longer, she finally began to pull up some of the cattails and put them into the boat, since that was the reason they had come. Then they started paddling back around the mass of floating reeds. When they came in sight of land again, they were much closer to their camp. As soon as they appeared, they were greeted by a long, drawn-out howl, full of tones of distress. After his hunting foray, Wolf had followed their scent and found their camp with no trouble, but when he had not found them, the young animal became anxious.
The woman whistled in return, to ease his fears. He ran to the edge of the water, then lifted his head and howled again. When he stopped, he sniffed their tracks, ran back and forth on the bank, then plunged in and started swimming toward them. As he neared, he veered away from the boat and headed for the mass of floating reeds, mistaking it for an island.
Wolf tried to reach the nonexistent shore, just as Ayla and Jondalar had done, but splashed and struggled between the reeds, finding no firm land. Finally he swam back to the boat. With difficulty, the man and the woman grabbed the waterlogged coat of the animal and hauled him into the skin-covered bowl. Wolf was so excited and relieved that he jumped up on Ayla and licked her face, and then did the same to Jondalar. When he finally settled down, he stood in the middle of the boat and shook himself, then howled again.
To their surprise, they heard an answering wolf howl, then a few yips, and another reply. They were surrounded by another series of wolf howls, this time sounding very close. Ayla and Jondalar stared at each other with a chill of apprehension as they sat naked in the small boat and listened to the howls of a pack that came not from the shore across the water, but from the insubstantial floating island!
“How can there be wolves there?” Jondalar said. “That is not an island, there is no land, not even a shifting sandbar.” Maybe they weren’t really wolves at all, Jondalar thought, shuddering. Maybe they were … something else…