The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [240]
“Jeren,” she said, standing up and making the motions of a formal introduction. “This is Wolf. Wolf, this is Jeren, one of Haduma’s people.”
“Wolf?” he said, his eyes still full of concern.
Ayla put her hand in front of Wolf’s nose, as if letting him smell her scent. Then she knelt down beside the wolf and put her arm around him again, demonstrating her closeness and lack of fear. She touched Jeren’s hand, then put her hand to Wolf’s nose again, showing him what she wanted him to do. Hesitantly Jeren extended his hand toward the animal.
Wolf touched it with his cold wet nose and pulled back. He had been through a similar introduction many times when they had stayed with the Sharamudoi, and he seemed to understand Ayla’s intention. Then Ayla took Jeren’s hand and, looking up at him, guided it toward the wolf’s head to let him feel the fur, showing him how to stroke Wolf’s head. When Jeren looked at her with a smile of acknowledgment and petted Wolf’s head on his own accord, she relaxed.
Jeren turned around and looked at the others. “Wolf!” he said, making a gesture toward him. He said some other things, then spoke her name. Four men stepped into the light of the fire. Ayla made welcoming motions to come and sit.
Jondalar, who had been watching, was smiling his approval. “That was a good idea, Ayla,” he said.
“Do you think they’re hungry? We have a lot of food left,” she said.
“Why don’t you offer it and see.”
She took out a platter made of mammoth ivory that she had used for the birds they had eaten, picked up something that looked like a wilted bundle of hay, and opened it to reveal a whole cooked ptarmigan. She held it out toward Jeren and the rest. The aroma preceded it. Jeren went to break off a leg and he found a tender and juicy piece of meat in his hand. The smile on his face after tasting it encouraged the others.
Ayla brought out a partridge as well, served out the stuffing of roots and grains onto a makeshift assortment of bowls and smaller plates, some woven, some made of ivory, and one of wood. She left the men to divide up the meat as they wanted, while she got out a large wooden bowl, one she had made, and filled it with water for tea.
The men looked much more relaxed after the meal, even when Ayla brought Wolf to sniff them. As they all sat around the fire holding cups of tea, they tried to communicate beyond the level of smiling friendliness and hospitality.
Jondalar started. “Haduma?” he asked.
Jeren shook his head and looked sad. He made a motion toward the ground with his hand that Ayla sensed meant she had returned to the Great Earth Mother. Jondalar understood as well that the old woman he had grown so fond of was gone.
“Tamen?” he asked.
Smiling, Jeren nodded in an exaggerated fashion. Then he pointed to one of the others and said something that included Tamen’s name. A young man, hardly more than a boy, smiled at them, and Jondalar saw a similarity to the man he had known.
“Tamen, yes,” Jondalar said, smiling and nodding. “Tamen’s son, or perhaps grandson, I think. I wish Tamen were here,” he said to Ayla. “He knew some Zelandonii, and we could talk a little. He made a long Journey there when he was a young man.”
Jeren looked around the camp, then at Jondalar, and said “Zel-an-don-yee … Ton … Tonolan?”
This time Jondalar shook his head and looked sad. Then, thinking about it, he made the motion toward the ground. Jeren looked surprised, but he nodded and said a word that was a question. Jondalar didn’t understand, and he looked at Ayla. “Do you know what he’s asking?”
Though the language was unfamiliar, there was a quality about most languages she had heard that felt familiar. Jeren said the word again, and something about his expression or his tone gave her an idea. She held her hand in the shape of a claw and growled like a cave lion.
The sound she made was so realistic that all the men gaped at her with shocked surprise, but Jeren nodded with understanding. He had asked how Thonolan