“Let him smell your hand first,” she said. “That’s Wolf’s formal introduction.” The wolf had learned from previous experienc
e that it was important to Ayla for him to accept within his pack of humans the people she introduced to him in this way. He didn’t like the smell of fear, but sniffed the man to become familiar with him.
“Have you ever really felt the fur of a living wolf, Joharran?” she asked, looking up at him. “If you notice, it’s a little coarse,” she said, leading his hand to feel the animal’s rather shaggy neck fur. “He’s still shedding and itchy, and he loves to be scratched behind the ears,” she continued, showing him how.
Joharran felt the fur, but was more aware of the warmth, and suddenly realized this was a living wolf! And he didn’t seem to mind being touched.
Ayla observed that his hand was not as stiff, and that he actually attempted to rub the place she indicated. “Let him smell your hand again.”
When Joharran brought his hand around toward the wolf’s nose, he widened his eyes again, with surprise. “That wolf licked me.” he said, not sure if it was in preparation for something better—or worse. Then he saw Wolf lick Ayla’s face, and she seemed very pleased about it.
“Yes, you were good, Wolf,” she said, smiling, as she fondled him and roughed up his mane. Then she stood up and patted the front of her shoulders. The wolf jumped up, put his paws on the place she had indicated, and as she exposed her throat, he licked her neck, and then took her chin and jaw in his mouth with a rumbling growl, but great gentleness.
Jondalar noticed the gasps of astonishment from Joharran and the others, and realized how frightening the familiar act of wolfish affection must seem to people who didn’t understand. His brother looked at him, his expression both fearful and amazed. “What’s he doing to her?”
“Are you sure that’s all right?” Folara asked at nearly the same time. She could no longer keep still. The other people were making indecisive nervous movements as well.
Jondalar smiled. “Yes, Ayla is fine. He loves her, he would never hurt her. That’s how wolves show affection. It took me a while to get used to it, too, and I’ve known Wolf as long as she has, ever since he was a fuzzy little cub.”
“That’s no cub! That’s a big wolf. That’s the biggest wolf I ever saw!” Joharran said. “He could tear her throat out!”
“Yes. He could tear her throat out. I’ve seen him tear a woman’s throat out … a woman who was trying to kill Ayla,” Jondalar said. “Wolf protects her.”
The Zelandonii who were watching breathed a collective sigh of relief when the wolf got down, and stood by her side again with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out the side, showing his teeth. Wolf had that look that Jondalar thought of as his wolf grin, as though he was pleased with himself.
“Does he do that all the time?” Folara asked. “To … anyone?”
“No,” Jondalar said. “Only to Ayla, and sometimes me, if he’s feeling particularly happy, and only if we allow it. He’s well behaved, he won’t harm anyone … unless Ayla is threatened.”
“What about children?” Folara asked. “Wolves often go after the weak and the young.”
At the mention of children, looks of concern appeared on the faces of the people standing nearby.
“Wolf loves children,” Ayla quickly explained, “and he is very protective toward them, particularly very young or weak ones. He was raised with the children of the Lion Camp.”
“There was a very weak and sickly boy, who belonged to the Lion Hearth,” Jondalar contributed. “You should have seen them play together. Wolf was always careful around him.”
“That’s a very unusual animal,” another man said. “It’s hard to believe a wolf could behave so … unwolflike.”
“You’re right, Solaban,” Jondalar said. “He does behave in ways that seem very unwolflike to people, but if we were wolves we wouldn’t think so. He was raised with people and Ayla says he thinks of people as his pack. He treats people as though they were wolves.”
“Does he hunt?” the man Jondalar had called Solaban wanted to know.
“Yes,” Ayla said. “Sometimes he hunts alone, for himself, and sometimes he helps us hunt.”
“How does he know what he should hunt and what he shouldn’t?” Folara asked. “Like those horses.”
Ayla smiled. “The horses are part of his pack, too. You notice they are not afraid of him. And he never hunts people. Otherwise, he can hunt any animal he wants, unless I tell him not to.”
“And if you say no, he doesn’t?” another man asked.
“That’s right, Rushemar,” Jondalar affirmed.
The man shook his head in wonder. It was hard to believe anyone could have such control over a powerful hunting animal.
“Well, Joharran,” Jondalar said. “Do you think it’s safe enough to bring Ayla and Wolf up?”
The man thought for a moment, then nodded. “However, if there is any trouble…”