The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [332]
“Wolf, you saved my life,” she sobbed. He licked her, staining her face with Attaroa’s warm, wet blood that was still on his muzzle.
The people of the Camp backed away from the scene, staring open-mouthed with incomprehension and wonder at the blond woman who was holding in her arms a large wolf that had just killed another woman in a furious assault. She had addressed the animal with the Mamutoi word for wolf, but it was similar to their own name for the meat-eating hunter, and they knew she was talking to him, just as though he could understand her, the same way she talked to the horses.
No wonder this stranger had shown no fear of Attaroa. Her magic was so powerful that she could not only make horses do her bidding, she could command wolves! The man had not shown concern either, they realized, when they saw him drop to his knees beside the woman and the wolf. He had even ignored the spears of the Wolf Women, who had also stepped back a few paces and stood gaping. Suddenly they saw a man behind Jondalar, and he had a knife! Where did the knife come from?
“Let me cut these cords for you, Jondalar,” Ebulan said, slashing the bindings.
Jondalar glanced around as he felt his hands come free. Other men were mixed through the crowd, and more were coming from the direction of the Holding. “Who let you out?”
“You did,” Ebulan said.
“What do you mean? I was tied up.”
“But you gave us the knives … and the courage to try,” Ebulan said. “Ardemun sneaked up behind the guard at the gate and hit her with his staff. Then we cut the cords that kept the gate closed up. Everyone was watching the fight, and then the wolf came…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head as he watched the woman and the wolf.
Jondalar didn’t notice that the man was too overcome to continue. Something else was more important. “Are you all right, Ayla? Did she hurt you?” he said, taking both the woman and the wolf in his arms. The animal turned from licking Ayla to licking him.
“A little scratch on the neck. It’s nothing,” she said, clinging to the man and the excited wolf, “and I think Wolf was cut, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.”
“I would never have let you come back here if I’d thought she would try to kill you, Ayla, right here at the feast. But I should have known. I was stupid not to realize how dangerous she was,” he said, holding her close.
“No, you’re not stupid. It didn’t even occur to me that she would try to attack me, and I didn’t know how to defend myself. If it hadn’t been for Wolf…” They both looked at the animal, full of gratitude.
“I have to admit, there have been times on this Journey when I wanted to leave Wolf behind, Ayla. I thought he was an extra burden, making our travels more difficult. When I found that you had gone to look for him after crossing the Sister, I was so angry. The thought that you had put yourself in jeopardy for this animal upset me.”
Jondalar took the wolf’s head in both his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “Wolf, I promise, I will never leave you behind. I would risk my life to save yours, you glorious, furious beast,” the man said, roughing his fur and rubbing behind his ears.
Wolf licked Jondalar’s neck and face, and with his jaws, he grasped the exposed and trusting throat and jaw of the man, and held it gently, showing his affection. Wolf felt nearly as strongly about Jondalar as he did about Ayla, and he growled contentedly at the attention and approval he was getting from both of his humans.
But the people who were watching made sounds of wonder and awe to see the man expose his vulnerable throat to the animal. They had watched that same wolf grab the throat of Attaroa with those powerful jaws and kill her, and to them Jondalar’s action bespoke magic, unimaginable control over the spirits of animals.
Ayla and Jondalar stood up with the wolf between them, while the people watched with some trepidation, not sure what to expect next. Several of them looked toward S’Armuna. She stepped toward the visitors, eying the wolf warily.
“We are finally