Read Online Mammoth Hunters by Jean M. Auel - Free Book Online Page B

from the assembled group. Her ability to mimic the sounds of animals was uncanny. It added unexpected excitement to her story. Jondalar was nodding and smiling his approval, too.
    “I hear man scream.” She looked at Jondalar and her eyes filled with sorrow. “I stop, what to do? Whinney is big with baby.” She made the little squealing sounds of a foal, and was rewarded with a beaming smile from Latie. “I worry for horse, but man scream. I hear lion again. I listen.” She managed, somehow, to make a lion’s roar sound playful. “It is Baby. I go in canyon then, I know horse not be hurt.”
    Ayla saw puzzled looks. The word she spoke was unfamiliar, although Rydag might have known it if his circumstances had been different. She had told Jondalar it was the Clan word for infant.
    “Baby is lion,” she said, trying to explain. “Baby is lion I know, Baby is … like son. I go in canyon, make lion go away. I find one man dead. Other man, Jondalar, hurt very bad. Whinney take back to valley.”
    “Ha!” a voice said derisively. Ayla looked up and saw that it was Frebec, the man who had been arguing with the old woman earlier. “Are you trying to tell me you told a lion to go away from a wounded man?”
    “Not any lion. Baby,” Ayla said.
    “What is that … whatever you are saying?”
    “Baby is Clan word. Mean child, infant. Name I give lion when he live with me. Baby is lion I know. Horse know, too. Not afraid.” Ayla was upset, something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure what.
    “You lived with a lion? I don’t believe that,” he sneered.
    “You don’t believe it?” Jondalar said, sounding angry. Theman was accusing Ayla of lying, and he knew only too well how true her story was. “Ayla does not lie,” he said, standing up to untie the thong that was gathered around the waist of his leather trousers. He dropped down one side of them and exposed a groin and thigh disfigured with angry red scars. “That lion attacked me, and Ayla not only got me away from him, she is a Healer of great skill. I would have followed my brother to the next world without her. I will tell you something else. I saw her ride the back of that lion, just as she rides the horse. Will you call me a liar?”
    “No guest of the Lion Camp is called a liar,” Tulie said, glaring at Frebec, trying to calm a potentially ugly scene. “I think it is evident that you were badly mauled, and we have certainly seen the woman … Ayla … ride the horse. I see no reason to doubt you, or her.”
    There was a strained silence. Ayla was looking from one to the other, confused. The word “liar” was unfamiliar to her, and she did not understand why Frebec said he didn’t believe her. Ayla had grown up among people who communicated with movement. More than hand signs, the Clan language included posture and expressions to shade meanings and give nuances. It was impossible to lie effectively with the entire body. At best, one could refrain from mentioning and even that was known, though allowed for the sake of privacy. Ayla had never learned to lie.
    But she did know something was wrong. She could read the anger and hostility that had sprung up as easily as if they’d shouted it. She also knew they were trying to refrain from mentioning it. Talut saw Ayla look at the dark-skinned man, then look away. Seeing Ranec gave him an idea of a way to ease tensions and get back to storytelling.
    “That was a good story, Jondalar,” Talut boomed, giving Frebec a hard look. “Long Journeys are always exciting to hear about. Would you like to hear a story of another long Journey?”
    “Yes, very much.”
    There were smiles all around as people relaxed. It was a favorite story of the group, and not often was there an opportunity to share it with people who hadn’t heard it before.
    “It’s Ranec’s story …” Talut began.
    Ayla looked at Ranec expectantly. “I would know how man with brown skin comes to live at Lion Camp,” she