The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [73]
Salova’s eyes opened wide as she looked at the stranger Jondalar had brought home, suddenly conscious of her unusual enunciation again. This woman is not someone to anger, she thought. Marona may have tried to embarrass Ayla, but Ayla has turned it back on her. Marona will be the one who ends up being humiliated. She’ll cringe every time she sees her wearing that outfit. I don’t think I would want Ayla mad at me!
“I’m sure Bologan could use something warm to wear this winter,” Marthona said. She had not missed a bit of the subtle communication between the two younger women. It’s probably just as well for Ayla to begin establishing her place right away, she thought. People need to know she cannot be taken advantage of easily. After all, she will be mating a man who was born and raised among the people who are the responsible leaders of the Zelandonii.
“He could use something to wear anytime,” Salova said. “Has he ever had anything decent? The only reason those children have anything at all is that people take pity on them and give them their castoffs. As much as he drinks, have you noticed that Laramar always manages to have enough barma to trade for whatever he wants, especially to make more barma, but not enough to feed his mate and her brood? And he’s never around when something needs to be done, like spreading rock powder on the trenches, or even to go hunting.
“And Tremeda doesn’t help,” Salova continued. “They are too much alike. She’s always too ‘sick’ to help with food gathering or community projects, though it doesn’t seem to bother her to ask for a share of someone else’s efforts to feed her ‘poor, hungry children.’ And who can refuse? They are indeed poorly dressed, seldom clean, and often hungry.”
After the meal, the gathering became more boisterous, especially after Laramar’s barma appeared. As darkness came on, the revelers moved to an area closer to the middle of the space under the huge rock shelf that roofed the entire settlement, and a large fire was lit barely under the edge of the overhead shelter. Even during the hottest days of summer, nighttime brought a penetrating chill, a reminder of the great masses of glacial ice to the north.
The bonfire threw heat back under the abri, and as the rock warmed, it added to the comfort of the surroundings. So did the friendly, if constantly changing, crowd gathered around the recently arrived couple. Ayla met so many people that, in spite of her exceptional memorizing skill, she wasn’t sure she would remember them all.
Wolf suddenly appeared again about the same time as Proleva, carrying a sleepy Jaradal, joined the group. The boy perked up and wanted to get down, much to his mother’s obvious dismay.
“Wolf won’t hurt him,” Ayla said.
“He’s very good with children, Proleva,” Jondalar added. “He was raised with the children of the Lion Camp, and was especially protective of one boy who was weak and sickly.”
The nervous mother stooped to let the boy down while keeping an arm around him. Ayla joined them, putting her arm around the animal, primarily to reassure the woman.
“Would you like to touch Wolf, Jaradal?” Ayla asked. He nodded his head up and down solemnly. She guided his hand toward Wolf’s head.
“He’s rickly!” Jaradal said with a smile.
“Yes, his fur is tickly. It tickles him, too. He’s shedding; that means some of his hair is coming out,” Ayla said.
“Does it hurt?” Jaradal asked.
“No. It just tickles. That’s why he especially likes to be scratched now.”
“Why is his hair coming out?”
“Because it’s getting warmer. In winter, when it’s cold, he grows a lot of hair to keep warm, but it’s too hot in summer,” Ayla explained.
“Why doesn’t he put a coat on when it’s cold?” Jaradal pressed.
The answer came from another source. “It’s hard for wolves to make coats, so the Mother makes one for them every winter,” Zelandoni said. She had joined the group shortly after Proleva. “In summer, when it gets warm, the Mother takes their coats off. When