by Jean M. Auel
When they got back to camp, Jondalar cleaned up the bear claws and canine teeth, while Ayla packed Whinney, and he was still packing, not quite ready to go when she was done. She was leaning against the mare, absently scratching her and feeling the comfort of her presence, when she noticed that Wolf had found another rotten old bone. This time he kept to the far edge of the glade, growling playfully with his rank prize, keeping an eye on the woman, but making no attempt to bring it to her.
"Wolf. Come here, Wolf." she called. He dropped his bone and came to her. "I think it's time to begin teaching you something new," she said.
She wanted him to learn to stay in one place when she told him to, even if she went away. It was a command that she felt would be important for him to learn, though she feared he would be a long time in the learning. Judging from the reception they had received thus far from people they had met, and Wolf's reaction, she worried about him going after strangers from another "pack" of humans.
Ayla had once promised Talut that she would kill the wolf herself if he ever hurt anyone at Lion Camp, and she still felt it was her responsibility to make sure that the carnivorous animal she had brought into close contact with people would not harm anyone. Beyond that, she worried about his safety. His threatening approach immediately caused a defensive reaction, and she feared that some frightened hunter might try to kill the strange wolf that seemed to be threatening his Camp, before she could prevent it.
She decided to begin by tying him to a tree and telling him to stay there while she walked away, but the rope around his neck was too loose, and he slipped his head out of it. She tied it tighter the next time, but worried that it would choke him if it was too tight. As she had suspected, he whined and howled and jumped up trying to follow her when she backed away. From the distance of several yards, she kept telling him to stay there, signaling a stop motion with her hand.
When he finally settled down, she came back and praised him. After a few more attempts, she saw that Jondalar was ready, and she let Wolf go. It was enough practicing for that day, but after struggling to untie the knots Wolf had stretched tighter with his straining against them, she wasn't pleased with the rope around his neck. First she'd had to adjust it exactly right, neither too tight nor too loose, and then she found it was difficult to untie the knots. She was going to have to think about that.
"Do you really think you'll be able to teach him not to threaten strangers?" Jondalar asked, after watching the first seemingly unsuccessful attempts. "Didn't you tell me that it's natural for wolves to be mistrustful of others? How can you hope to teach him something that is against his natural inclinations?" He mounted Racer while she put the rope away, and then she climbed on Whinney's back.
"Is it a natural inclination for that horse to let you ride on his back?" she asked.
"I don't think that's the same, Ayla," Jondalar said as they started out from the camp riding the horses side by side. "Horses eat grass, they don't eat meat, and I think they are by nature more inclined to avoid trouble. When they see strangers, or something that seems threatening, they want to run away. A stallion may fight another stallion sometimes, or something directly threatening, but Racer and Whinney want to get away from a strange situation. Wolf gets defensive. He's much more ready to fight."
"He would run away, too, Jondalar, if we'd run with him. He gets defensive because he's protecting us. And, yes, he's a meat eater, and he could kill a man, but he doesn't. I don't think he would unless he thought one of us was threatened. Animals can learn, just like people can. It's not his natural inclination to think of people and horses as his 'pack.' Even Whinney has learned things that she would not have if she lived with other horses. How natural is it for a horse to think of a wolf as a friend? She even had a cave lion for a friend. Is that a natural inclination?"
"Maybe not," Jondalar said, "but I can't tell you how worried I was when Baby showed up at the Summer Meeting and you rode straight up to him on Whinney. How did you know he'd remember you? Or Whinney? Or that Whinney would remember him?"
"They grew up together. Baby… I mean Baby…"
The word she used meant "baby" but it had an odd sound and inflection, unlike any language she and Jondalar usually spoke, a rough, guttural quality, as though spoken from the throat. Jondalar could not reproduce it, could hardly even approximate the sound; it was one of the relatively few spoken words from the language of the Clan. Though she had said it often enough that he recognized it, Ayla had formed the habit of immediately translating any Clan word she happened to use to make it easier. When Jondalar referred to the lion Ayla had raised from a cub, he used the translated form of the name she had given him, but it always struck him as incongruous that a gigantic male cave lion should have the name "Baby."
"… Baby was… a cub when I found him, a baby. He hadn't even been weaned. He'd been kicked in the head, by a running deer, I think, and was almost dead. That's why his mother left him. He was like a baby to Whinney, too. She helped me take care of him – it was so funny when they started playing with each other, especially when Baby would sneak up and try to get Whinney's tail. I know there were times when she waved it at him on purpose. Or they'd each grab an end of a hide and try to pull it away from each other. I lost so many hides that year, but they made me laugh."
Ayla's expression turned pensive. "I never really learned to laugh until then. The people of the Clan didn't laugh out loud. They didn't like unnecessary noises, and loud sounds were usually meant for warnings. And that look you like, with teeth showing, that we call a smile? They made it to mean they were nervous, or feeling protective and defensive, or with a certain hand sign as implying a threatening gesture. It wasn't a happy look to them. They didn't like it when I was little if I smiled or laughed, so I learned not to do it very much."
They rode along the river's edge for a distance, on a flat, wide stretch of gravel. "Many people smile when they're nervous, and when they meet strangers," Jondalar said. "It's not meant to be defensive or threatening, though. I think a smile is meant to show that you're not afraid."
Going ahead in single file, Ayla leaned to the side to guide her horse around some brush growing beside a streamlet that was making its way to the river. After Jondalar had developed the halter device that he used to guide Racer, Ayla also started using one to help lead Whinney occasionally, or to tie her to something to keep her in one location, but even when the horse was wearing it, Ayla never used it when she was riding. She had never intended to train the animal when she first got on the mare's back, and the mutual learning process had been gradual and, in the beginning, unconscious. Though once she realized what was happening, the woman did purposely train the horse to do certain things, it was always within the framework of the deep understanding that had grown between them.
"But if a smile is meant to show that you are not afraid, doesn't that mean you think you have nothing to be afraid of? That you feel strong and have nothing to fear?" Ayla said, when they rode abreast again.
"I never really thought about it before. Thonolan always smiled and seemed so confident when he met new people, but he wasn't always as sure as he seemed. He tried to make people think that he wasn't afraid, so I suppose you could say it was a defensive gesture, a way of saying I'm so strong I have nothing to fear from you."
"And isn't showing your strength a way of threatening? When Wolf shows his teeth to strangers, isn't he showing them his strength?" Ayla pressed.
"There may be something about them that is the same, but there is a big difference between a smile of greeting and Wolf baring his teeth and growling."
"Yes, that's true," Ayla conceded. "A smile makes you feel happy."
"Or at least relieved. If you've met a stranger and he smiles back at you, that usually means you've been welcomed, so you know where you stand. Not all smiles are necessarily meant to make you happy."
"Maybe feeling relieved is the beginning of feeling happy," Ayla said. They rode together in silence for a while; then th
e woman continued. "I think there is something similar about a person smiling in greeting when he is feeling nervous around strangers, and people of the Clan having a gesture in their language of showing their teeth that means they're nervous or implying a threat. And when Wolf shows his teeth to strangers, he's threatening them because he's feeling nervous and protective."
"Then when he shows his teeth to us, to his own pack, it's his smile," Jondalar said. "There are times when I'm convinced he's smiling, and I know he teases you. I'm sure he loves you, too, but the trouble is, it's natural for him to show his teeth and threaten people he doesn't know. If he's protecting you, how are you going to train him to stay where you tell him, if you're not there? How can you teach him not to attack strangers if he decides he wants to?" Jondalar's concern was serious. He wasn't sure that taking the animal with them was such a good idea. Wolf could create a lot of problems. "Remember, wolves attack to get their food; that's the way the Mother made them. Wolf is a hunter. You can teach him many things, but how can you teach a hunter not to be a hunter? Not to attack strangers?"
"You were a stranger when you came to my valley, Jondalar. Do you remember when Baby came back to visit me and found you there?" Ayla asked, as they again separated into single file to start up a gully leading away from the river toward the highland.
Jondalar felt a flush of heat, not exactly embarrassment, but a recollection of the strong emotions of that encounter. He had never been so scared in his life; he had been sure he was going to die.
It took some time to pick their way up the shallow ravine, around rocks that washed down during spring floods, and black-stemmed artemisia brush that burst into life when the rains came and retreated into dry stalks that appeared dead when they stopped. He thought about the time Baby came back to the place where Ayla had raised him and found a stranger on the broad ledge in front of her small cave.
None of them were small, but Baby was the biggest cave lion he'd ever seen, nearly as tall as Whinney, and more massive. Jondalar was still recovering from the mauling that same lion, or his mate, had given him earlier when he and his brother had foolishly broached their den. It was the last thing Thonolan was ever to do. Jondalar was sure he was seeing his last moments when the cave lion roared and gathered himself to spring. Suddenly Ayla was between them, holding up her hand in a motion to stop, and the lion stopped! It would have been comical the way that huge beast pulled himself up short and twisted around to avoid her, if he hadn't been so petrified. The next thing he knew, she was scratching the gigantic cat and playing with him.
"Yes, I remember," he said, when they reached the highland and again rode side by side. "I still don't know how you made him stop in the middle of that attack on me."
"When Baby was just a cub, he made a game of attacking me, but when he started to grow, he got too big for me to play that kind of game with him. He was too rough. I had to teach him to stop," Ayla explained. "Now I have to teach Wolf not to attack strangers, and to stay behind if I want him to. Not only so he won't hurt people, but so they won't hurt him."
"If anyone can teach him, Ayla, you can," Jondalar said. She had made her point, and if she could, it would make Wolf easier to travel with, but he still wondered how much trouble the wolf might cause them. He had delayed their crossing the river and chewed up their things, though Ayla had apparently worked out that problem, too. It wasn't that he didn't like the animal. He did. It was fascinating to observe a wolf so closely, and it surprised him how friendly and affectionate Wolf was, but he did require extra time, attention, and provisions. The horses took some extra care, but Racer was so responsive to him, and they were a real help. The trip back was going to be difficult enough; they didn't need the added burden of an animal that was almost as worrisome as a child.
A child, that would be a problem, Jondalar thought as he rode. I only hope the Great Earth Mother doesn't give Ayla a child before we get back. If we were already there and settled, it would be different. Then we could think about children. Not that we can do anything about it, anyway, except ask the Mother. I wonder what it would be like to have a small one around?
What if Ayla is right? What if children are started by Pleasures? But we've been together for some time, and there are no signs of children yet. It has to be Doni who puts the baby inside a woman, but what if the Mother decides not to give Ayla a child? She did have one, even if it was mixed. Once Doni gives one, She usually gives more. Maybe it's me. I wonder, can Ayla have a baby that would come from my spirit? Can any woman?
I've shared Pleasures and honored Doni with many. Did any of them ever have a baby that I started? How does a man know? Ranec knew. His coloring was so strong, and his features so unusual, you could see his essence in some of the children at the Summer Meeting. I don't have such strong coloring or features… or do I?
What about that time the Hadumai hunters stopped us on the way here? That old Haduma wanted Noria to have a baby with blue eyes like mine, and after her First Rites, Noria told me she would have a son of my spirit, with my blue eyes. Haduma had told her. I wonder if she ever had that baby?
Serenio thought she might have been pregnant when I left. I wonder if she had a child with blue eyes the color of mine. Serenio had one son, but she never had any others after that, and Darvo was almost a young man. I wonder what she'll think of Ayla, or what Ayla will think of her?
Maybe she wasn't pregnant. Maybe the Mother still hasn't forgotten what I did, and it's Her way of telling me I don't deserve a child at my hearth. But She gave Ayla back to me. Zelandoni always told me Doni would never refuse me anything I asked Her, but she warned me to be careful what I asked for, because I would get it, she said. That's why she made me promise not to ask the Mother for her, when she was still Zolena.
Why would anyone ask for something if he didn't want it? I never really understand those who speak to the spirit world. They always have a shadow on their tongue. They used to say Thonolan was a favorite of Doni, when they talked about his flair for getting along with people. But then they say beware of the Mother's favors. If She favors too much, She doesn't want you be away from Her for too long. Is that why Thonolan died? Did the Great Earth Mother take him back? What does it really mean when they say Doni favors someone?
I don't know if She favors me or not. But now I know Zolena made the right choice when she decided to embrace the zelandonia. It was right for me, too. What I did was wrong, but I would never have made the Journey with Thonolan if she hadn't become Zelandoni, and I would never have found Ayla. Maybe She does favor me, a little, but I don't want to take advantage of Doni's goodness to me. I have already asked Her to get us back safely; I can't ask Her to give Ayla a child of my spirit, especially not now. But I wonder, will she ever have one?
6
Ayla and Jondalar turned away from the river they had been following, veering toward the west in their general southerly route, and traveled across country. They came upon the valley of another large watercourse that was flowing east on its way to joining, somewhat downstream, the one they had left behind. The valley was broad, with a gentle grassy slope leading to a swift river that was racing through the middle of a level floodplain, strewn with stones of various sizes, ranging from large boulders to fine sandy gravel. Except for a few tufts of grass and an occasional flowering herb, the rocky course was bare, scoured of vegetation by the spring deluge.
A few logs, whole trees stripped of leaves and bark, sprawled across the rubbled clearing, while tangled alder brush and shrubs with grayish hairy leaves hovered near the edge. A small herd of giant deer, whose extravagant palmate antlers made the large rack of the moose seem small, were feeding along the outer fringe of woolly willows clustered in the damp lowland near the water.
Wolf was full of high spirits and had been darting under and around the legs of the horses, particularly Racer. Whinney seemed able to ignore his exuberance, but the stallion was more excitable. Ayla thought the young horse would have responded to Wolf's playfulness in kind
if he had been allowed to, but with Jondalar guiding his movement, the wolf's antics only distracted him. The man was not pleased, since it required him to keep a closer control over the horse. His irritation was building up, and he was considering whether he should ask Ayla if she couldn't keep the wolf away from Racer.
Suddenly, much to Jondalar's relief, Wolf dashed away. He had caught the scent of the deer and gone to investigate. The first sight of the long legs of a giant deer was irresistible; Wolf decided it was another tall, four-legged animal for him to play with. But when the stag he approached lowered his head to fend off the charging animal, Wolf halted. The magnificent spreading antlers of the powerful deer were each twelve feet long! The great beast nibbled on the broad-leaf grass at his feet, not unmindful of the carnivore, but indifferent to him, as though he knew he had little to fear from a lone wolf.
Ayla, watching, smiled. "Look at him, Jondalar. Wolf thought that megaceros was another horse he could pester."
Jondalar smiled, too. "He does look surprised. Those antlers are a little more than he expected."
They rode slowly toward the water, understanding without saying so that neither of them wanted to startle the massive deer. They both felt a sense of awe as they neared the enormous creatures that towered over them, even on horseback. With a stately gracefulness, the herd edged away as the people and horses approached, not frightened, but cautious, browsing on the woolly willow leaves as they went.
"They are a little more than I expected, too," Ayla said. "I've never been this close before."
Though only slightly larger than moose in actual physical size, the giant deer, with their magnificent, elaborate antlers, spreading out and up from the tops of their heads, seemed enormous. Each year the fantastic horns were shed and the new pair that grew in to replace them extended to greater lengths and more complexity, eventually reaching twelve feet or more on some old males in a single season. But even when their heads were bare, that greatest member of the deer tribe was huge in comparison with any other of its kind. The shaggy fur and massive shoulder and neck muscles, which had developed to support the weight of the immense horns, contributed to their formidable aspect. Giant deer were animals of the plains. The prodigious antlers were an encumbrance in woodland, and they avoided any trees taller than brush; some had been known to starve to death, trapped by their own glorious rack caught in the branches of a tree.