“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Zanacan,” Galliadal said. “Everyone will be talking about the story we told this evening. If it happened all the time, it would take away the special quality of tonight. And I’m sure Ayla has other things to do. She is a mother, and the First’s acolyte.”
The young man flushed a little red and looked embarrassed. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Ayla said. “Galliadal is right, I have many things to do, and Wolf wouldn’t always be here just when you might want him, but I think it would be fun to learn something about storytelling the way you do it. If no one would mind, I’d like to visit sometime when you are practicing.”
Zanacan, and the others, became very aware of Ayla’s unusual accent as she spoke, especially because they all knew the effect of different tonal qualities and voices, and had traveled around the region much more than most.
“I love your voice!” Zanacan said.
“I’ve never heard an accent like yours,” the young woman said.
“You must come from very far away,” the other young man added.
Ayla was usually a little embarrassed when people mentioned her accent, but the three young people seemed so excited and genuinely pleased, she could only smile.
“Yes. She does come from very far away. Much farther than you can imagine,” Jondalar said.
“We would love it if you came to visit us anytime you want while we’re here, and would you mind if we tried to learn your way of speaking?” the young woman said. She looked up at Galliadal for approval.
The storyteller looked at Ayla. “Gallara knows that sometimes our camp is not open to casual visitors, but, yes, you would be welcome to visit our camp anytime.”
“I think we could make a wonderful new story of someone who comes from very far away, maybe even farther than the land of the dawning sun,” said Zanacan, still full of excitement.
“I think we could, but somehow I doubt if it would be as good as the real story, Zanacan,” Galliadal said, then to Ayla and Jondalar he added, “The children of my hearth sometimes get very excited over new ideas, and you have given them many.”
“I didn’t know Zanacan and Gallara were the children of your hearth, Galliadal,” Jondalar said.
“And Kaleshal, too,” the man said. “He’s the eldest. Perhaps we should make proper introductions.”
The young people who had portrayed the characters of the story seemed quite pleased to meet the living counterparts of their tale, especially when they got to Ayla’s names and ties. as Jondalar recited them.
“May I present to you Ayla of the Zelandonii,” Jondalar began. When he got to where she came from, he changed the introduction somewhat. “Formerly she was Ayla of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, the Mammoth Hunters who live far to the east, in ‘the land of the dawning sun,’ and adopted as Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, which is their zelandonia. Chosen by the spirit of the Cave Lion, her totem, who physically marked her, and Protected by the spirit of the Cave Bear, Ayla is friend to the horses, Whinney and Racer, and the new filly, Gray, and loved by the four-legged hunter she calls Wolf.”
They understood the names and ties that Jondalar brought to the list when they mated, but when he spoke of Mammoth Hearth, and Cave Lion and Cave Bear, not to mention the living animals she brought with her, Zanacan opened his eyes very wide. It was a mannerism of his when he was surprised.
“We can use that in the new story!” Zanacan said. “The animals. Not exactly the same, of course, but the idea of hearths named for animals, and maybe Caves, too, and the animals she travels with.”
“I told you her real story is probably better than any story we could make up,” Galliadal said.
Ayla smiled at Zanacan. “Would you like to meet Wolf? All of you,” she said.
All three young people looked surprised, and Zanacan’s eyes opened again. “How do you meet a wolf? They don’t have names and ties, do they?”
“Not exactly,” Ayla said. “But the reason that we give our names and ties is to learn more about each other, isn’t it? Wolves learn more about people and many things in their world by scent. If you let him smell your hand, he will remember you.”
“I’m not sure … would that be good or bad?” Kaleshal said.
“If I introduce you, he will count you as a friend,” Ayla said.
“Then I think we should,” Gallara said. “I wouldn’t want to be counted as anything but a friend of that wolf.”
When Ayla reached for Zanacan’s hand and brought it to Wolf’s nose, she could feel the slight resistance, a tendency to pull back at first. But once he realized that nothing bad would happen, his innate curiosity and interest were aroused. “His nose is cold, and wet,” he said.
“That means he’s healthy. How did you think a wolf’s nose should feel?” Ayla said. “Or his fur? What do you think that feels like?” She moved his hand to stroke his head, and feel the fur along his neck and back. She went through a similar process with the other two young people, while many others stood back and watched.
“His fur is smooth and rough, and he’s warm,” Zanacan said.
“He’s alive. Living animals are warm, most of them. Birds are very warm, fish are cool, and snakes can be either,” Ayla said.