by Jean M. Auel
Earlier Wolf had quivered with excitement at the sound of wolf howls and then run off. Not long afterward she heard wolf song again, and an answering howl much closer. The woman was waiting for the animal to return. When she heard his panting breath—he must have been running, she thought—and felt him snuggle up to her feet, she relaxed.
She had just dozed off when she suddenly found herself wide awake. Alert and tense, she lay still, trying to discover what woke her. First she felt the rumbling, almost silent growl vibrating through her coverings from the warm spot at her feet. Then she heard faint snufflings. Something was in camp with them.
“Jondalar?” she said softly.
“I think the meat is drawing something. It could be a bear, but I think it’s more likely to be a wolverine or a hyena,” Jondalar replied, his whisper barely audible.
“What should we do? I don’t want anything to get our meat.”
“Nothing, yet. Whatever it is may not be able to reach it. Let’s wait.”
But Wolf knew exactly what was nosing around and had no intention of waiting. Wherever they set up camp, he defined it as his territory and took it upon himself to defend it. Ayla felt him leave, and an instant later heard him snarl menacingly. The growling response had an entirely different tone and seemed to come from higher up. Ayla sat up and reached for her sling, but Jondalar was already on his feet with the long shaft of a spear resting on his spear-thrower in readiness.
“It’s a bear!” he said. “I think he’s up on his hind legs, but I can’t see a thing.”
They heard movement, shuffling sounds from somewhere between the fireplace and the poles from which the meat was suspended, then the growling warnings of the animals facing off. Suddenly, from the other side, Whinney neighed, then, even louder, Racer voiced his nervousness. There were more sounds of movement in the dark, and then Ayla heard the particular excited deep snarling rumble that signaled Wolf’s intention to attack.
“Wolf!” Ayla called out, trying to prevent the dangerous encounter.
Suddenly, amid vicious snarls, a sonorous bellow rang out, then a yelp of pain as a scattering of bright sparks flew around a large shape stumbling into the fireplace. Ayla heard the whistle of an object moving rapidly through the air nearby. A solid thunk was followed by a howl, and then the noise of something crashing through the trees, moving away fast. Ayla whistled the call she used for Wolf. She did not want him to follow.
She knelt down to hug the young wolf with relief when he came to her, while Jondalar built up the fire again. In the firelight, he saw a trail of blood left behind by the retreating animal.
“I was sure my spear had found that bear,” the man said, “but I couldn’t see where it hit. I’d better track it in the morning. A wounded bear can be dangerous, and we don’t know who will be using this campsite next.”
Ayla came to examine the trail. “I think it’s losing a lot of blood. It may not go far,” she said, “but I was worried about Wolf. That was a big animal. It could have hurt him.”
“I’m not sure if Wolf should have attacked like that. He could have caused that bear to go after someone else, but it was a brave thing to do, and I’m glad to know he’s so quick to protect you. I wonder what he’d do if anyone ever really tried to hurt you,” Jondalar said.
“I don’t know, but Whinney and Racer were anxious about that bear. I think I’ll see how they are.”
Jondalar wanted to check on them, too. They found the horses had moved in close to the fire. Whinney had learned long ago that the fire made by people usually meant security, and Racer was learning from his own experience, as well as from his dam. They seemed to relax after the comforting words and touches of the people they trusted, but Ayla felt uneasy and knew she’d have trouble going back to sleep. She decided to make herself some calming tea and went into the tent to get her otter-skin medicine bag.
While the cooking stones were heating, she stroked the fur of the worn bag, remembering when Iza gave it to her and recalling her life with the Clan, especially the last day. Why did Creb have to go back into the cave? she thought. He might still be alive, even though he was getting old and weak. But he wasn’t weak during that last ceremony the night before, when he made Goov the new Mog-ur. He was strong again, The Mog-ur, just like before. Goov will never be as powerful as Creb was.
Jondalar noticed her pensive mood. He thought she was still thinking about the child who had died and the son she would never see again, and he didn’t quite know what to say. He wanted to help but didn’t want to intrude. They were sitting together close to the fire, sipping the tea, when Ayla happened to look up at the sky. She caught her breath.
“Look, Jondalar,” she said. “In the sky. It’s red, like a fire, but high up and far away. What is it?”
“Ice Fire!” he said. “That’s what we call it when it’s red like that, or sometimes Fires of the North.”
They watched the luminous display for a while as the northern lights arced across the sky like gossamer drapes blowing in a cosmic wind. “It has white bands in it,” Ayla said, “and it’s moving, like streaks of smoke, or white chalky water rippling through it. And other colors, too.”
“Star Smoke,” Jondalar said. “That’s what some people call it, or Star Clouds when it’s white. It has different names. Most people know what you mean when you use any name like that.”
“Why haven’t I seen this light in the sky before, I wonder?” Ayla said, feeling awe, and a touch of fear.
“Maybe you lived too far south. That’s why it is also called Fires of the North. I haven’t seen it very often and never this strong, or this red, but people who have made northern Journeys claim the farther north you go, the more you see it.”
“But you can only go as far north as the wall of ice.”
“You can travel north beyond the ice, if you go by water. West of the place where I was born, several days’ distance, depending on the season, the land comes to an end at the edge of the Great Waters. It is very salty, and it never freezes, although large chunks of ice are sometimes seen. They say some people have traveled beyond the wall of ice in boats, when they are hunting animals that live in the water,” Jondalar said.
“You mean like the bowl boats the Mamutoi used to cross rivers?”
“Like them, I think, but bigger and stronger. I never saw them, and I wasn’t sure if I believed the stories until I met the Sharamudoi and saw the boats they make. Many trees grow along the Mother River, near their Camp, big trees. They make boats out of them. Wait until you meet them. You won’t believe it, Ayla. They don’t just cross the river, they travel on it, both upstream and downstream in those boats.”
Ayla noticed his enthusiasm. He was really looking forward to seeing them again, now that he had resolved his dilemma. But she was not thinking about meeting Jondalar’s other people. The strange light in the sky worried her. She wasn’t sure why, exactly. It was unnerving and she wished she understood what it meant, but it didn’t fill her with fear the way earthly disturbances did. She was terrified of any movements of the earth, especially earthquakes, not just because the shaking of what should be solid earth was frightening in itself, but because they had always signaled drastic, wrenching change in her life.
An earthquake had torn her away from her own people and given her a childhood that was alien to everything she had known, and an earthquake had led to her ostracism from the Clan, or at least given Broud an excuse for it. Even the volcanic eruption far to the southeast that had showered them with fine, powdered ash seemed to have presaged her leaving the Mamutoi, though the choice had been hers and not forced on her. But she didn’t know what signs from the sky meant, or even if this was a sign.
“Creb would think a sky like this was a sign of something, I’m sure,” Ayla said. “He was the most powerful mog-ur of all the clans, and something like this would make him want to meditate until he understood what it meant. I think Mamut would think it was a sign, too. What do you think, Jondalar? Is it a sig
n of something? Maybe of something … not good?”
“I … I don’t know, Ayla.” He was hesitant to tell her the beliefs of his people that when the northern lights were red, it was often considered a warning, but not always. Sometimes it just presaged something important. “I’m not One Who Serves the Mother. It could be a sign of something good.”
“But this Ice Fire is a powerful sign of something, isn’t it?”
“Usually. At least most people think so.”
Ayla mixed a little columbine root and wormwood into her chamomile tea, making a somewhat more than mildly calming drink for herself, but she was uneasy after the bear in their camp and the strange glow in the sky. Even with the sedative, Ayla felt as though sleep was resisting her. She tried every position to fall asleep, first on her side, then her back, then the other side, even her stomach, and she was sure her tossing and turning was bothering Jondalar. When she finally did drop off, her sleep was disturbed by vivid dreams.
An angry roar shattered the silence, and the watching people jumped back with fear. The huge cave bear pushed at the gate to the cage and sent it crashing to the ground. The maddened bear was loose! Broud was standing on his shoulders; two other men were clinging to his fur. Suddenly one was in the monstrous animal’s grip, but his agonized scream was cut short when a powerful bear hug snapped his spine. The mog-urs picked up the body and, with solemn dignity, carried it into a cave. Creb, in his bearskin cloak, hobbled in the lead.
Ayla stared at a white liquid sloshing in a cracked wooden bowl. The liquid turned blood red, and thickened, as white, luminous bands moved in slow ripples through it. She felt an anxious worry, she had done something wrong. There wasn’t supposed to be any liquid left in the bowl. She held it to her lips and drained it.
Her perspective changed, the white light was inside her, and she seemed to be growing larger and looking down from high above at stars blazing a path. The stars changed to small flickering lights leading through a long endless cave. Then a red light at the end grew large, filling her vision, and with a sinking, sickening feeling, she saw the mog-urs sitting in a circle, half-hidden by stalagmite pillars.
She was sinking deeper into a black abyss, petrified with fear. Suddenly Creb was there with the glowing light inside her, helping her, supporting her, easing her fears. He guided her on a strange trip back to their mutual beginnings, through salt water and painful gulps of air, loamy earth and high trees. Then they were on the ground, walking upright on two legs, walking a great distance, going west toward a great salty sea. They came to a steep wall that faced a river and a flat plain, with a deep recess under a large overhanging section; it was the cave of an ancient ancestor of his. But as they approached the cave, Creb began fading, leaving her.
The scene grew hazy, Creb was fading faster, was nearly gone, and she felt panicky. “Creb! Don’t go, please don’t go!” she called out. She scanned the landscape, searching desperately for him. Then she saw him at the top of the cliff, above his ancestor’s cave, near a large boulder, a long, slightly flattened column of rock that tilted over the edge, as though frozen in place as it was about to fall. She called out again, but he had faded into the rock. Ayla felt desolate; Creb was gone and she was alone, aching with sorrow, wishing she had something of his to remember, something to touch, to hold, but all she had was an overwhelming sorrow. Suddenly she was running, running as fast as she could; she had to get away, she had to get away.
“Ayla! Ayla! Wake up!” Jondalar said, shaking her.
“Jondalar,” she said, sitting up. Then, still feeling the desolation, she clung to him, as tears fell. “He’s gone … Oh, Jondalar.”
“It’s all right,” he said, holding her. “It must have been a terrible dream. You were shouting and crying. Do you think it would help if you told me?”
“It was Creb. I dreamt about Creb, and that time at the Clan Gathering when I went into the cave and those strange things happened. For a long time afterward, he was very upset with me. Then, just as we were finally getting back together, he died, before we could even talk very much. He told me Durc was the son of the Clan. I never was sure what he meant. There was so much I wish we could have talked about, so much I wish I could ask him now. Some people just thought of him as the powerful Mog-ur, and his missing eye and arm made him seem ugly and more frightening. But they didn’t know him. Creb was wise and kind. He understood the spirit world, but he understood people, too. I wanted to talk to him in my dream, and I think he was trying to talk to me.”
“Maybe he was. I never could understand dreams,” Jondalar said. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m all right now,” Ayla said, “but I wish I knew more about dreams.”
“I don’t think you should go looking for that bear alone,” Ayla said after breakfast. “You’re the one who said a wounded bear could be dangerous.”
“I’ll be watchful.”
“If I go with you, both of us can be watchful, and staying at the campsite won’t be any safer. The bear could come back while you’re gone.”
“That’s true. All right, come along.”
They started into the woods, following the bear’s trail. Wolf decided to track the bear and plunged ahead through the underbrush, heading upstream. They had traveled less than a mile when they heard a commotion ahead, snarls and growls. Hurrying ahead, they found Wolf, his bristles raised, a low growl deep in his throat, but holding his head low and his tail between his legs, staying well back from a small pack of wolves who were standing guard over the dark brown carcass of the bear.
“At least we don’t have to worry about a dangerous wounded bear,” Ayla said, holding her spear and thrower ready.
“Just a pack of dangerous wolves.” He was also standing braced to hurl his spear. “Did you want some bear meat?”
“No, we have enough meat. I don’t have room for more. Let’s leave that bear to them.”
“I don’t care about the meat, but I wouldn’t mind having the claws and the big teeth,” Jondalar said.
“Why don’t you take them? They are yours by right. You killed the bear. I can chase the wolves away with my sling long enough for you to get them.”
Jondalar didn’t think it was something he would have tried by himself. The idea of driving a pack of wolves away from meat they had claimed as theirs seemed a dangerous thing to do, but he remembered her actions of the day before, chasing away the hyenas. “Go ahead,” he said, taking out his sharp knife.
Wolf became very excited when Ayla started to throw stones and chase the wolf pack, and he stood guard over the bear carcass as Jondalar quickly cut away the claws. The teeth were somewhat harder to dig out of the jaws, but the man soon had his trophies. Ayla was watching Wolf, smiling. As soon as his “pack” had chased away the wild pack, his entire manner and posture changed. He was holding his head up, his tail straight back, in the stance of a dominant wolf, and his snarl was more aggressive. The pack’s leader was watching him closely and seemed close to challenging him.
After they relinquished the bear carcass to the pack again and were walking away, the pack leader threw back his head and howled. It was deep-voiced and powerful. Wolf lifted his head and howled in return, but his song lacked the resonance. He was younger, hardly even full grown, and it showed in his tone.
“Come on, Wolf. That one’s bigger than you, not to mention older and wiser. He’d have you on your back in a heartbeat or two,” Ayla said, but Wolf howled again, not in challenge, but because he was in a community of his kind.
The other wolves of the pack joined in until Jondalar felt surrounded by a chorus of yips and howls. Then, just because she felt like it, Ayla lifted her head and howled. It sent a shiver down the man’s back and raised gooseflesh. To his ear, it was a perfect imitation of the wolves. Even Wolf cocked his head toward her, then voiced another long wail of more confident tones. The other wolves answered in kind and soon the woods were again filled with the spine-tingling, beautiful wolf song.
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.