The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [331]
Jondalar tried to intercede, but Attaroa’s Wolf Women had surrounded him, and their spear points were pushed to his chest, stomach, and back so hard that they had pierced the skin and drawn blood. Before he knew it, his hands were tied behind his back, as Attaroa knocked Ayla down, straddled her, and raised a dagger to her throat, without a hint of the drunkenness she had shown before.
She had planned it all along, Jondalar realized. While they had been talking, trying to think of ways to blunt Attaroa’s power, she had been planning to kill them. He felt so stupid, he should have known. He had sworn to himself he would protect Ayla. Instead he was watching helplessly, full of fear for her, while the woman he loved tried to fight off her attacker. That was why everyone feared Attaroa. She killed without hesitation or remorse.
Ayla had been taken completely by surprise. She’d had no time to reach for a knife or a sling, or anything, and she was not experienced in fighting with people. She had never fought anyone in her life. But Attaroa was on top of her, with a sharp dagger in her hand, trying to kill her. Ayla grabbed the headwoman’s wrist and struggled to hold her arm away. Ayla was strong, but Attaroa was both strong and cunning, and she was pushing down, against Ayla’s resistance, forcing the sharp tip toward Ayla’s throat.
Instinctively, Ayla rolled over at the last moment, but the dagger grazed her neck, leaving a line of red welling up, before the weapon was plunged halfway into the ground. And Ayla was still pinned by the woman whose demented anger added to her strength. Attaroa yanked the dagger out of the ground, then hit the blond woman, stunning her, straddled her once again, and pulled back to plunge her dagger down.
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Jondalar closed his eyes, unable to watch the violent final moment of Ayla’s life. His own life would have no meaning to him when she was gone … So why was he standing there afraid of threatening spears when he didn’t care if he lived or died? His hands were tied, but his legs weren’t. He could run over there and maybe knock Attaroa away.
He heard a commotion near the gate of the Holding at the instant he decided to ignore the sharp spears and try to help Ayla. The noise from the Holding distracted his guards as he unexpectedly lurched forward, pushed aside their spears, and ran toward the two women struggling on the ground.
Suddenly a dark blur dashed past the watching people, brushed against his leg, and leaped at Attaroa. The momentum of the attack knocked the headwoman backward as sharp fangs clamped around her throat, tearing through the skin. The headwoman found herself on her back on the ground, trying to fight off a fury of snarling teeth and fur. She managed to make a stab into the heavy, furry body before she dropped the dagger, but it only evoked a deadly snarl and a tighter grip of the viselike jaws pressing together in a stranglehold that cut off her air.
Attaroa tried to scream as she felt darkness overcoming her, but at that moment a sharp canine tooth severed an artery, and the sound that emerged was a horrible, suffocating gurgle. Then, the tall, handsome woman fell limp and fought no more. Still snarling, Wolf shook her, making sure there was no more resistance.
“Wolf!” Ayla cried, overcoming her shock and sitting up. “Oh, Wolf.”
As the wolf let go, blood spurted from the severed artery and sprayed him. He crept toward Ayla with his tail tucked between his legs, whining apologetically, asking for her approval. The woman had told him to stay in hiding, and he knew he had acted against her wishes. When he saw the attack and understood that she was in danger, he had sprung to her defense, but now he wasn’t sure how his misbehavior would be received. More than anything, he hated being scolded by this woman.
Ayla opened her arms and reached for him. Quick to realize that he had acted correctly and was forgiven for his transgression, he rushed to her with joy. She hugged him, burying her face in his fur,