The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [168]
Tholie stopped as a thought occurred to her. She turned to look at the visitor. “Ayla is an unusual name, too. What Hearth were you born to?” she said, thinking, There, now I’d like to hear you explain that name.
“I was not born Mamutoi, Tholie. I was adopted by the Mammoth Hearth,” Ayla said, glad that the woman had brought out the questions that had obviously been bothering her.
Tholie was certain she had caught the woman in a lie. “People are not adopted by the Mammoth Hearth,” she asserted. “That is the Hearth of the mamutii. People choose the way of the spirits, and may be accepted by the Mammoth Hearth, but they are not adopted.”
“That is the usual way, Tholie, but Ayla was adopted,” Jondalar interjected. “I was there. Talut was going to adopt her into his Lion Hearth, but Mamut surprised everyone, and adopted her into the Mammoth Hearth, as his own. He saw something in her—that’s why he was training her. He claimed she was born to the Mammoth Hearth, whether she was born a Mamutoi or not.”
“Adopted to the Mammoth Hearth? From outside?” Tholie said, surprised, but she did not doubt Jondalar. After all, she knew him and he was kin, but she was even more interested. Now that she no longer felt so constrained to be watchful and cautious, her natural forthright curiosity rose to the surface. “Who were you born to, Ayla?”
“I don’t know, Tholie. My people died in an earthquake when I was a girl not much more than Shamio’s age. I was raised by the Clan,” Ayla said.
Tholie had never heard of any people called the Clan. They must be one of those eastern tribes, she thought. That would explain a lot. No wonder she has such a strange accent, though she does speak the language well, for an outsider. That Old Mamut of the Lion Camp was a wise and canny old, old man, she mused. He had always been old, it seemed. Even when she was a girl, no one could remember when he was young, and no one doubted his insights.
With a mother’s natural instinct, Tholie glanced around to check on her child. Noticing Wolf, she thought once again about how strange it was that an animal would prefer associating with people. Then she looked the other way at the horses grazing quietly and contentedly in the field so near to their living site. Ayla’s control over the animals was not only surprising, it was interesting because they seemed so devoted to her. The wolf seemed to adore her.
And look at Jondalar. He was obviously captivated by the beautiful blond woman, and Tholie didn’t think it was just because she was beautiful. Serenio had been beautiful, and there had been countless attractive women who had tried their best to interest him in a serious attachment. He had been closer to his brother, and Tholie recalled wondering if any woman would ever reach his heart, but this woman had. Even without her apparent healing skills, she seemed to possess some unusual quality. Old Mamut must have been right. It probably was her destiny to belong to the Mammoth Hearth.
Inside the dwelling, Ayla combed out her hair, tied it back with a piece of soft leather thong, and put on the clean tunic and short pants she had been keeping aside in case they met some people, so she would not have to wear her stained traveling clothes for visiting. Then she went to check on Roshario. She smiled at Darvalo, who was sitting listlessly outside the dwelling, and she nodded to Dolando when she entered and approached the woman lying on the bed. She examined her briefly, just to make sure she was all right.
“Should she still be sleeping?” Dolando asked, with a worried frown.
“She’s fine. She will sleep a while longer yet.” Ayla looked at her medicine bag, then decided that it would be a good time to gather some fresh ingredients for a reviving tea to help bring Roshario out of the datura-induced sleep when she did begin to awaken. “I saw a linden tree on my way here. I want some flowers for a tea for her and, if I can find them, a few other herbs. If Roshario wakes up before I get back, you can give her a little water.