Jean Auel - THE PLAINS OF PASSAGE

"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.

"Jerika!" Jondalar said, smiling with delight.

"Jondalar! It's so good to have you back!" They hugged with obvious affection. "Since this great bear of a man of mine has no manners, why don't you introduce me to your companion? And then you can tell me why those animals stand there and don't run away," the woman said.

She moved between the two men and was dwarfed by them. They were exactly the same height, and the top of her head barely reached midway up their chests. Her walk was quick and energetic. She reminded Ayla of a bird, an impression reinforced by her diminutive size.

"Jerika of the Lanzadonii, please greet Ayla of the Mamutoi. She is the one responsible for the behavior of the animals," Jondalar said, beaming at the small woman with Dalanar's expression. "She can tell you better than I why they don't run away."

"You are welcome here, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Jerika said, with hands outstretched. "And the animals as well, if you can promise they will continue such uncommon ways." She was eying Wolf as she spoke.

"I greet you, Jerika of the Lanzadonii." Ayla returned her smile. The small woman's grip had a strength that was surprising and, Ayla sensed, a character to match. "The wolf will not harm anyone, unless someone threatens one of us. He is friendly, but very protective. The horses are nervous around strangers and may rear if they are crowded, which could be dangerous. It would be better if people would stay away from them in the beginning, until they get to know everyone better."

"That's sensible, but I am glad you told us," she replied, then looked at Ayla with disconcerting directness. "You have come a long way. The Mamutoi live beyond the end of Donau."

"Do you know the land of the Mammoth Hunters?" Ayla asked, surprised.

"Yes, and even farther east, though I don't remember as much of that. Hochaman will be glad to tell you about it. Nothing would please him more than a new ear to listen to his stories. My mother and he came from a land near the Endless Sea, as far east as the land goes. I was born on the way. We lived with many people, sometimes for several years. I remember the Mamutoi. Good people. Fine hunters. They wanted us to stay with them," Jerika related.

"Why didn't you?"

"Hochaman wasn't ready to settle down. His dream was to travel to the ends of the world, to see how far the land would go. We met Dalanar not long after my mother died and decided to stay and help him get the flint mine started. But Hochaman has lived to see his dream," Jerika said, glancing at her tall mate. "He has traveled all the way from the Endless Sea of the east to the Great Waters of the west. Dalanar helped him finish his Journey, some years ago, carried him on his back most of the way. Hochaman shed tears when he saw the great western sea, and he washed them away with salt water. He can't walk much now, but no one has made so long a Journey as Hochaman."

"Or you, Jerika," Dalanar added proudly. "You've traveled nearly as far."

"Hmmmf." She shrugged. "It's not as though I made the choice. But here I scold Dalanar, and then I talk too much."

Jondalar had his arm around the waist of the woman he had surprised. "I'd like to meet your traveling companion," she said.

"I'm sorry, of course," Jondalar said. "Ayla of the Mamutoi, this is my cousin, Joplaya of the Lanzadonii."

"I welcome you, Ayla of the Mamutoi," she said, holding out her hands.

"I greet you, Joplaya of the Lanzadonii," Ayla said, suddenly conscious of her accent and glad she had a clean tunic under her parka. Joplaya was as tall as she, perhaps a shade taller. She had her mother's high cheekbones, but her face was not as flat and her nose was like Jondalar's, only more delicate and finely chiseled. Smooth dark eyebrows matched long black hair, and thick black lashes framed eyes with a hint of her mother's slant, but a dazzling green!

Joplaya was a stunningly beautiful woman.

"I am pleased to greet you," Ayla said. "Jondalar has spoken of you so often."

"I'm pleased he didn't forget me, altogether," Joplaya replied. She stepped back and Jondalar's arm found her waist again.

Others had crowded around, and Ayla went through a formal greeting with each member of the Cave. They were all curious about the woman Jondalar had brought back, but their scrutiny and questions made her uncomfortable, and she was glad when Jerika intervened.