fast, but as the man was preparing to cast a spear, Wolafan dragged the meat to the woman and dropped it at her feet. Then he sat down in front of her and looked up. He was trying to tell her that he loved her, but Wolafon couldn't speak anymore. He could only show his love by his actions and the look in his eyes, and it was obvious that he was a wolf who loved a woman.'
All of the people in the audience turned to stare at Ayla and the wolf at her feet, most of them smiling. Some began to laugh, then others started to slap their knees in applause. Although it wasn't quite where Galliadal had intended to end the story, the response from the listeners made him realise that it was a good place to stop.
Ayla felt embarrassed to be the centre of so much attention, and looked at Jondalar. He was smiling, too, and slapping his knees.
'That was a good story,' he said.
'But none of it is true,' she said.
'Some of it is,' Jondalar said, looking down at the wolf who was now standing in an alert and protective posture in front of Ayla. 'There is a wolf who loves a woman.'
She reached down to stroke the animal. 'Yes, I think you are right.'
'Most of the stories that Storytellers tell are not true, but they often have some truth in them, or satisfy a desire for an answer. You have to admit, it was a good story. And if someone didn't know that you found Wolf as a very young cub alone in his den, with no siblings, or pack, or mother left alive, Galliadal's story could indulge their wish to know, even if they understood that it probably wasn't true.'
Ayla looked at Jondalar and nodded; then they both turned and smiled at Galliadal and the others on the platform. The Storyteller acknowledged them with an elaborate bow.
The audience was getting up and moving around again, and the Storytellers stepped down from the platform to make room for a different set of people to tell a story. They joined the group around Ayla and Wolf.
'It was incredible when the wolf appeared. He came at just the right time,' said the young man who had portrayed the boy-wolf. 'It couldn't have been better if we'd planned it. I don't suppose you'd like to come and bring him every night?'
'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 practising.'
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 travelled 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 any time.'
'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, Grey, 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 realised that nothing bad would happen, his innate curiosity and interest was 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.
'How do you know so much about animals?' Gallara said.
'She's a hunter, and she's caught almost every kind of animal there is,' Jondalar said. 'She can kill a hyena with a stone, catch a fish with her bare hand, and birds come to her whistle, but she usually lets them go. Just this spring, she led a lion hunt, and killed at least two with her spear-thrower.'
'I didn't lead the hunt,' Ayla said, frowning. 'Joharran did.'
'Ask him,' Jondalar said. 'He says you led the hunt. You were the one who knew about lions, and how to go after them.'
'I thought she was a Zelandoni, not a hunter,' Kaleshal said.
'She's not a Zelandoni, yet,' Galliadal said. 'She's an acolyte, in training, but I understand a very good healer already.'
'How can she know so many things?' Kaleshal asked, doubt in his tone.
'She had no choice,' Jondalar said. 'She lost her people when she was five years old, was adopted by strangers and had to learn their ways, then lived alone for a few years before I found her, or I should say, she found me. I had been attacked by a lion. She rescued me, and treated my wounds. When you lose everything at such a
