"You have kin! What about the Mamutoi? Aren't you Ayla of the Mamutoi?"
"It's not the same. I miss them, and I'll always love them, but it wasn't so hard to leave. It was harder the other time, when I had to leave Durc behind." A look of pain filled her eyes.
"Ayla, I know it must have been difficult to leave a son." He took her in his arms. "It wouldn't bring him back, but the Mother may give you other children… someday… perhaps even children of my spirit."
She didn't seem to hear him. "They said Durc was deformed, but he wasn't. He was Clan, but he was mine, too. He was part of both. They didn't think I was deformed, just ugly, and I was taller than any man of the Clan… big and ugly…"
"Ayla, you are not big and ugly. You are beautiful, and remember, my kin are your kin."
She looked up at him. "Until you came, I had no one, Jondalar. Now I have you to love and maybe, someday, a child of yours. That would make me happy," she said, smiling.
Her smile relieved him, and her mention of a child even more. He looked up at the sun's position in the sky. "We won't make it to Dalanar's cave today if we don't hurry. Come on, Ayla, the horses need a good run. I'll race you across the meadow. I don't think I could stand another night in the tent when we're so close."
Wolf bounded out of the woods, full of energy and playfulness. He jumped up, put his paws on her chest, and licked her jaw. This was her family, she thought, as she grabbed his neck fur. This magnificent wolf, the faithful and patient mare, the spirited stallion, and the man, the wonderful caring man. Soon she would be meeting his family.
She fell silent while she packed the few things; then suddenly she started digging things out of a different pack. "Jondalar, I'm going to take a bath in this stream and put on a clean tunic and leggings," she said, taking off the leather tunic she had been wearing.
"Why don't you wait until we get there. You'll freeze, Ayla. That water is probably straight off the glacier."
"I don't care, I don't want to meet your kin all dirty and travel stained."
They came to a river, cloudy green with glacial runoff, and running high, though the rushing water would be much higher when it reached its full volume later in the season. They turned east, upstream, until they found a place shallow enough to ford, then climbed in a southeasterly direction. It was late afternoon when they reached a gradual slope that leveled out near a rock wall. The dark hole of a cave was tucked under an overhanging ledge.
A young woman was seated on the ground, her back to them, surrounded by broken chips and nodules of flint. She held a punch, a pointed wooden stick, to a core of the dark gray stone with one hand, concentrating on the exact placement, and preparing to hit the punch with a heavy bone hammer held in the other. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn't notice Jondalar slipping up silently behind her.
"Keep practicing, Joplaya. Someday you'll be as good as I am," he said with a grin.
The bone mallet came down wrong, shattering the blade she was about to flake off as she whirled around, a look of stunned disbelief on her face.
"Jondalar! Oh, Jondalar! Is it really you?" she cried, throwing herself into his arms. With his arms around her waist, he picked her up and spun her around. She clung to him, as though she never wanted to let him go. "Mother! Dalanar! Jondalar's back! Jondalar came back!" she shouted.
People came running out of the cave, and an older man, as tall as Jondalar, raced toward him. They grabbed each other, stood back and looked, then hugged again.
Ayla signaled Wolf, who crowded close to her as she stood back and watched, holding the lead ropes of both horses.
"So, you came back! You were gone so long, I didn't think you would," the man said.
Then, over Jondalar's shoulder, the older man spied a most astounding sight. Two horses, with baskets and bundles fastened to them, and hides draped across their backs, and a large wolf, were hovering close to a tall woman, dressed in a fur parka and leggings cut in an unusual style and decorated with unfamiliar patterns. Her hood was thrown back, and the woman's deep golden hair cascaded around her face in waves. There was a decidedly foreign cast to her features, rather like the unfamiliar cut of her clothing, but it only added to her outstanding beauty.
"I don't see your brother, but you did not return alone," the man said.
"Thonolan is dead," Jondalar said, closing his eyes involuntarily. "I would be, too, if it wasn't for Ayla."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I liked the boy. Willomar and your mother will be grief-stricken. But I notice your taste in women has not changed. You always did have a liking for beautiful zelandonia."
Jondalar wondered why he thought Ayla was One Who Served the Mother. Then he looked at her, surrounded by the animals, and suddenly saw her as the older man would, and he smiled. He strode to the edge of the clearing, took Racer's lead, and started walking back, followed by Ayla, Whinney, and Wolf.
"Dalanar of the Lanzadonii, please welcome Ayla of the Mamutoi," he said.
Dalanar held out both hands, palms up, in the greeting of openness and friendship. Ayla grasped them with both of hers.
"In the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, I welcome you, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Dalanar said.
"I greet you, Dalanar of the Lanzadonii," Ayla replied, with the proper formality.
"You speak our language well for someone from so far away. It is my pleasure to meet you." His formality was belied by his smile. He had noticed her manner of speaking and thought it most intriguing.
"Jondalar taught me to speak," she said, hardly able to keep from staring. She glanced at Jondalar, then back at Dalanar, stunned by their resemblance.
Dalanar's long blond hair was a little thinner on top and his waist a little thicker, but he had the same intensely blue eyes – a few creases at the corners – and the same high forehead, his worry lines etched a little deeper. His voice had the same quality, too, the same pitch, the same tone. He even stressed the word pleasure the same way, giving it the hint of a double meaning. It was uncanny. The warmth of his hands started a tingling response in her. His similarity even confused her body for a moment.
Dalanar felt her response and smiled Jondalar's smile, understanding the reason and liking her for it. With that strange accent, he thought, she must come from someplace quite far away. When he dropped her hands, the wolf suddenly approached him, quite fearlessly, although he couldn't say he felt the same way himself. Wolf insinuated his head under Dalanar's hand, looking for attention, as though he knew the man. To his own surprise, Dalanar found himself stroking the handsome animal, as though it were perfectly natural to pet a large living wolf.
Jondalar was grinning. "Wolf thinks you're me. Everyone always said we looked alike. Next you'll be on Racer's back." He held the lead rope toward the man.
"Did you say 'Racer's back'?" Dalanar said.
"Yes. Most of the way here, we rode on the backs of those horses; Racer is the name I gave the stallion," Jondalar explained. "Ayla's horse is Whinney, and this big beast that's taken such a liking to you is called 'Wolf.' That's the Mamutoi word for a wolf."
"How did you ever get a wolf, and horses…" Dalanar began.
"Dalanar, where are your manners? Don't you think other people want to meet her and hear their stories?"
Ayla, still slightly flustered by Dalanar's amazing resemblance to Jondalar, turned to the one who spoke – and found herself staring again. The woman resembled no one Ayla had ever seen before. Her hair, pulled back from her face into a roll at the back of her head, was glossy black, streaked with gray at the temples. But it was her face that held Ayla's attention. It was round and flat with high cheekbones, a tiny nose, and dark slanting eyes. The woman's smile contradicted her stern voice and Dalanar beamed as he looked down at her.