by Jean M. Auel
The horses knew they were in no danger from the young hunter, and quickly overcame their initial wariness. More than one person smiled to see the wobbly little wolf, not much bigger than a hoof, looking up the massive legs of the strange giants. Whinney lowered her head and nosed forward, pulled back, then poked her long mobile nose toward the wolf again. Racer approached the interesting baby from the other side. The wolf puppy huddled down and cringed when he saw the huge heads approaching him. But from the point of view of the small puppy, the world was populated by giants. The humans, even the woman who fed and comforted him, were gigantic, too.
He detected no threat in the warm breath blowing from the flaring nostrils. To the wolf’s sensitive nose, the scent of these horses was familiar. It permeated Ayla’s clothing and belongings, and even the woman herself. The baby wolf decided that these four-legged giants were part of his pack, too, and with his normal puppyish eagerness to please, reached up to touch his tiny black nose to the soft warm nose of the mare.
“They’re touching noses!” Ayla heard Latie say in a loud whisper.
When the wolf started to lick the muzzle of the mare, which was the usual way puppies approached members of their pack, Whinney lifted her head quickly. But she was too intrigued to stay away for long from the startling little animal, and was soon accepting the caressing warm licks of the tiny predator.
After a few moments of mutually getting acquainted, Ayla picked up the young wolf to carry him back in. It had been an auspicious beginning, but she decided not to overdo it. Later, she would take him out for a ride.
Ayla had seen a look of amused tenderness on Jondalar’s face when the animals met. It was an expression that once had been so familiar to her, it filled her with an unaccountable surge of happiness. Perhaps he would be willing to move back to the Mammoth Hearth, now that he had time to think about it. But when she went inside and smiled at him—her big beautiful smile—he averted his face and lowered his eyes, then quickly followed Talut back to the cooking hearth. Ayla bowed her head as her joy evaporated, leaving an aching heaviness in its place, convinced he didn’t care about her any more.
Nothing was further from the truth. He was sorry he had acted so hastily, ashamed that he had displayed such immature behavior, and certain that he was no longer welcome after his abrupt departure. He did not think her smile was really intended for him. He believed that it was a result of the successful meeting of the animals, but the sight of it filled him with such an agony of love and yearning, he couldn’t bear to be near her.
Ranec saw Ayla’s eyes follow after the back of the big man. He wondered how long their separation would last, and what effect it would have. Though he was almost afraid to hope, he could not help but think that Jondalar’s absence might increase his chances with Ayla. He had some notion that he was in part a cause of the separation, but he felt the problem between them went deeper. Ranec had made his interest in Ayla obvious, and neither of them had indicated that it was wholly misplaced. Jondalar had not confronted him with a definitive statement of his intention to join with Ayla in an exclusive union; he had just acted with suppressed anger and withdrawn. And while Ayla had not exactly encouraged him, she had not turned him away either.
It was true, Ayla did welcome Ranec’s company. She wasn’t sure what was causing Jondalar to be so aloof, but she felt certain it was something that she was doing wrong. Ranec’s attentive presence made her feel that her behavior could not he entirely inappropriate.
Latie was standing beside Ayla, her eyes bright with interest in the wolf puppy she held. Ranec joined them.
“That was a sight I’ll never forget, Ayla,” Ranec said. “That tiny thing touching noses with that huge horse. He’s a brave little wolf.”
She looked up and smiled, as pleased at Ranec’s praise as she would have been if the animal were her own child. “Wolf was frightened at first. They are much bigger than he is. I’m glad they made friends so fast.”
“Is that what you are going to call him? Wolf?” Latie asked.
“I haven’t really thought about it. It does seem a fitting name, though.”
“I can’t think of one more fitting,” Ranec conceded.
“What do you think, Wolf?” Ayla asked, holding the baby wolf up and looking at him. The puppy squirmed toward her eagerly, and licked her face. They all smiled.
“I think he likes it,” Latie said.
“You do know animals, Ayla,” Ranec said, then with a questioning look, he added, “There is something I’d like to ask you, though. How did you know the horses wouldn’t hurt him? Wolf packs hunt horses, and I’ve seen horses kill wolves. They are mortal enemies.”
Ayla paused and considered. “I’m not sure. I just knew. Maybe because of Baby. Cave lions kill horses, too, but you should have seen Whinney with him when he was little. She was so protective, like a mother, or at least an aunt. Whinney knew a baby wolf couldn’t hurt her, and Racer seemed to know it, too. I think if you start when they are babies, many animals can be friends, and friends of people, too.”
“Is that why Whinney and Racer are your friends?” Latie asked.
“Yes, I think so. We’ve had time to get used to each other. That’s what Wolf needs.”
“Do you think he might get used to me?” Latie asked, with such yearning, Ayla smiled with recognition of the feeling.
“Here,” she said, holding the puppy out to the girl. “Hold him.”
Latie cuddled the warm and wriggling animal in her arms, then bent her cheek to feel the soft fuzzy fur. Wolf licked her face, too, including her in his pack.
“I think he likes me,” Latie said. “He just kissed me!”
Ayla smiled at the delighted reaction. She knew such friendliness was natural to wolf puppies; the humans seemed to find it as irresistible as adult wolves did. Only when they grew older did wolves become shy, defensive, and suspicious of strangers.
The young woman observed the pup with curiosity as Latie held him. Wolf’s coat was still the unshaded dark gray color of the very young. Only later would the hair develop the dark and light bars of the typical agouti coloration of an adult wolf—if it would at all. His mother had been solid black, even darker than the pup, and Ayla wondered what color Wolf would turn out to be.
They all turned their heads at Crozie’s screech.
“Your promises mean nothing! You promised me respect! You promised I would always be welcome, no matter what!”
“I know what I promised. You don’t have to remind me,” Frebec shouted.
The squabble was not unexpected. The long winter had provided time to make and mend, to carve and to weave, to tell stories, sing songs, play games and musical instruments; to indulge in all the pastimes and diversions ever invented. But as the long season drew to a close, it was also the time when close confinement caused tempers to flare. The undercurrent of conflict between Frebec and Crozie had caused such strained relations that most people felt an outbreak was imminent.
“Now you say you want me to leave. I am a mother with no place to go, and you want me to leave. Is that keeping your promise?”
The verbal battle was carried along the passageway and soon arrived in full force at the Mammoth Hearth. The wolf puppy, frightened by the noise and commotion, squirmed out of Latie’s arms, and was gone before she could see where he went.
“I keep my promises,” Frebec said. “You didn’t hear me right. What I meant was …” He had made promises to her, but he didn’t know then what it would be like to live with the old harridan. If only he could just have Fralie and not have to put up with her mother, he thought, looking around trying to think of some way to get out of the corner Crozie had put him in.
“What I meant was …” He noticed Ayla and looked directly at her. “We need more room. The Crane Hearth isn’t big enough for us. And what are we going to do when the baby comes? There seems to be plenty of room in this hearth, even for animals!”
“It’s not for the animals, the Mammoth Hearth
was this size before Ayla came,” Ranec said, coming to Ayla’s defense. “Everyone in the Camp congregates here, it has to be larger. Even then it gets crowded. You can’t have a hearth this big.”
“Did I ask for one this big? I only said ours wasn’t big enough. Why should the Lion Camp make room for animals but not for people?”
More people were coming to see what was going on. “You can’t take room from the Mammoth Hearth,” Deegie said, making room for the old shaman to come forward. “Tell him, Mamut.”
“No one made room for the wolf. He sleeps in a basket near her head,” Mamut began in a reasonable tone. “You imply Ayla has this entire hearth, but she has little space to call her own. People gather here whether there is a ceremony or not, particularly the children. There is always someone around, including Fralie and her children sometimes.”
“I have told Fralie I don’t like her to spend so much time here, but she says she needs more room to spread out her work. Fralie would not have to come here to work if we had more room at our hearth.”
Fralie blushed, and went back to the Crane Hearth. She had told Frebec that, but it wasn’t entirely true. She also liked to spend time at the Mammoth Hearth for the company, and because Ayla’s advice had helped with her difficult pregnancy. Now Fralie felt she would have to stay away.
“Anyway, I wasn’t talking about the wolf,” Frebec continued, “though no one asked me if I wanted to share the lodge with that animal. Just because one person wants to bring animals here, I don’t know why I should have to live with them. I’m not an animal, and I didn’t grow up with them, but around here animals are worth more than people. This whole Camp will build a separate room for horses, while we are squeezed into the smallest hearth in the lodge!”
An uproar ensued with everybody shouting at once, trying to make themselves heard.
“What do you mean, ‘the smallest hearth in the lodge’?” Tornec stormed. “We have no more room than you, maybe less, and just as many people!”
“That’s true,” Tronie said. Manuv was vigorously nodding his head in agreement.
“No one has much room,” Ranec said.
“He’s right!” Tronie agreed again, with more vehemence. “I think even the Lion Hearth is smaller than yours, Frebec, and they have more people than you, and bigger ones, too. They are really cramped. Maybe they should have some of the space from the cooking hearth. If any hearth deserves it, they do.”
“But the Lion Hearth is not asking for more room,” Nezzie tried to say.
Ayla looked from one person to the next, unable to understand how the entire Camp had suddenly become embroiled in a vociferous argument, but feeling that somehow it was all her fault.
In the midst of it all, a loud bellow suddenly roared out that overpowered all the commotion and stopped everyone. Talut stood in the middle of the hearth with commanding assurance. His feet were spread apart and in his right hand was the enigmatically decorated, long, straight ivory shaft. Tulie joined him, lending her presence and authority. Ayla felt daunted by the powerful pair.
“I have brought the Speaking Staff,” Talut said, holding up the shaft and shaking it to make his point. “We will discuss this problem peaceably and settle it equitably.”
“In the name of the Mother, let no one dishonor the Speaking Staff,” Tulie added. “Who will speak first?”
“I think Frebec should speak first,” Ranec said. “He’s the one with the problem.”
Ayla had been edging toward the periphery, trying to get away from the noisy, shouting people. She noticed that Frebec seemed uncomfortable and nervous with all the unfriendly attention focused on him. Ranec’s comment had carried the strong implication that the imbroglio was entirely his fault. Ayla, standing somewhat hidden behind Danug, studied Frebec closely for perhaps the first time.
He was of average height, perhaps a bit less. Now that she noticed it, she thought she was probably slightly taller than he, but she was somewhat taller than Barzec, too, and probably matched Wymez in height. She was so used to being taller than everyone she hadn’t paid attention before. Frebec had light brown hair, thinning somewhat, eyes of a medium shade of blue, and straight, even features with no disfigurements. He was an ordinary-looking man and she could find nothing to account for his belligerent, offensive behavior. There were times when Ayla was growing up that she wished she had looked as much like the rest of the Clan as Frebec looked like his people.
As Frebec stepped forward and took the Speaking Staff from Talut, Ayla noticed Crozie out of the corner of her eye, with a gloating smirk on her face. Certainly the old woman was at least partially to blame for Frebec’s actions, but was that all? There had to be more to it. Ayla looked for Fralie, but didn’t see her among the people gathered in the Mammoth Hearth. Then she noticed the pregnant woman watching from the edge of the Crane Hearth.
Frebec cleared his throat a few times, then, shifting his hold on the ivory shaft and grasping firmly, he began. “Yes, I do have a problem.” He looked around nervously, then scowling, he stood up straighter. “I mean, we have a problem, the Crane Hearth. There is not enough space. We have no room to work, it is the smallest hearth in the lodge …”
“It is not the smallest. Theirs is bigger than ours!” Tronie spoke out, unable to restrain herself.
Tulie fixed her with a stern eye. “You will have a chance to speak, Tronie, when Frebec is through.”
Tronie blushed and mumbled apologies. Her embarrassment seemed to give Frebec encouragement. His stance became more aggressive.
“We don’t have enough room now, Fralie doesn’t have enough room to work, and … and Crozie needs more space. And soon there will be another person. I think we should have more room.” Frebec gave the Staff back to Talut and stepped back.
“Tronie, you may speak now,” Talut said.
“I don’t think … I was just … well, maybe I will,” she said, stepping forward to take the Staff. “We don’t have any more room than the Crane Hearth, and we have just as many people.” Then she added, trying to enlist Talut’s assistance, “I think even the Lion Hearth is smaller …”
“That is not important, Tronie,” Talut said. “The Lion Hearth isn’t asking for space and we are not close enough to the Crane Hearth to be affected by Frebec’s desire for more room. You, at the Reindeer Hearth, do have a right to speak up since changes in the Crane Hearth are more likely to cause changes in your space. Is there anything else you want to say?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tronie said, shaking her head, as she handed him the Staff.
“Anyone else?”
Jondalar wished he could say something that would help, but he was an outsider and felt it wasn’t his place to intrude. He wanted to be by Ayla’s side, and was even more sorry now that he had moved his sleeping place. He was almost glad when Ranec stepped up and took the ivory shaft. Somebody needed to speak for her.
“It’s not terribly important, but Frebec is exaggerating. I can’t say whether or not they need more space, but the Crane Hearth is not the smallest hearth in the lodge. The Fox Hearth has that honor. But we are only two, and we are content.”
There were murmurs, and Frebec glared at the carver. There had never been much understanding between the two men. Ranec had always felt they had little in common, and tended to ignore him. Frebec took it as disdain, and there was some truth to the feeling. Particularly since he had begun making disparaging remarks to Ayla, Ranec found little of worth in Frebec.
Talut, attempting to forestall another general argument, raised his voice and addressed Frebec. “How do you think the space in the lodge ought to be changed to give you more room?” He gave the long ivory pole to the man.
“I never said I wanted to take any space from the Reindeer Hearth, but it seems to me that if some people have space for animals, they have more room than they need. A whole annex was added to the lodge for the horses, but no one seems to care that we will soon be adding another person. Maybe things could be … mov
ed over,” Frebec finished lamely. He was not happy to see Mamut reach for the Speaking Staff.
“Are you suggesting that in order to make more room at the Crane Hearth, the Reindeer Hearth should move into the Mammoth Hearth? That would be a great inconvenience for them. As for Fralie coming here to work, you are not suggesting that she confine herself to the Crane Hearth, are you? It would be unhealthy, and deprive her of the companionship she finds here. This is where she is supposed to bring her projects. This hearth is meant to accommodate work that takes more room than there is in anyone’s personal hearth. The Mammoth Hearth belongs to everyone and it is almost too small for gatherings now.”
When Mamut turned the Speaking Staff back to Talut, Frebec looked chastened, but he bristled defensively when Ranec took it again.
“As for the horse annex, we will all benefit from that space, especially after storage cellars are dug. Even now, it has become a convenient entrance for many people. I notice you keep your outer clothes in there, and use it more often than the front way, Frebec,” Ranec said. “Besides, babies are small. They don’t take much space. I don’t think you need more room.”
“How would you know?” Crozie interjected. “You’ve never had one born to your hearth. Babies do take room, a lot more than you think.”
Only after she said it did Crozie realize that for the first time she had sided with Frebec. She frowned, then decided maybe he was right. Maybe they did need more room. It was true that the Mammoth Hearth was a gathering place, but it did seem to accord Ayla greater status because she lived at such a large hearth. Though everyone had considered it theirs when Mamut had lived there alone, now, except for ceremonial gatherings, everyone treated it as though it were Ayla’s. A larger space for the Crane Hearth might increase the status of its members.