The Land of Painted Caves by Jean M. Auel
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 realize that it was a good place to stop.
Ayla felt embarrassed to be the center 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 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.
“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.
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Ayla was paying attention to Wolf, stroking him and rubbing behind his ears, keeping her head down, trying not to listen. It always embarrassed her when people talked about her as though the things she had done were accomplishments. It made her feel as though she thought she was important, and that made her uncomfortable. She didn’t think she was important, and she didn’t like being singled out as different. She was just a woman, and a mother, who had found a man to love and people like herself, most of whom had come to accept her as one of them. Once she had wanted to be a good Clan woman; now she just wanted to be a good Zelandonii woman.
Levela walked up to Ayla and Wolf. “I think they are getting ready to tell the next story,” she said. “Are you staying to hear it?”
“I don’t think so,” Ayla said. “Jondalar may want to stay. I’ll ask him, but I think I’ll come back another time to listen to stories. Are you staying?”
“I thought I might see if there is anything good left to eat. I’m getting a little hungry, but I’m tired, too. I may go back to our camp soon,” Levela said.
“I’ll go with you to get something to eat. Then I have to pick up Jonayla from your sister.” Ayla took a few steps to where Jondalar and the others were talking, and waited until there was a break in the conversation. “Are you going to stay to hear the next story?” she asked.
“What do you want to do?”
“I’m getting tired and so is Levela. We thought we’d go and see if there is anything good left to eat,” Ayla said.
“That sounds fine to me. We can come back another time to listen to more stories. Is Jondecam coming?” Jondalar said.
“Yes, I am.” They heard his voice coming toward them. “Wherever you are going.”
The four of them left the storytellers’ camp and headed for the area where the food had been gathered together. Everything was cold, but cold slices of bison and venison were still tasty. Globular root vegetables of some variety were soaking in a rich broth that had a thin layer of congealed fat on top, which added flavor. Fat was a desirable quality, relatively rare on free-ranging wild animals, and necessary for survival. Hidden behind some empty bone platters they found a woven bowl with some round blue-colored berries left in it, several varieties mixed together like huckleberries, bearberries, and currants, which they gladly shared. Ayla even found a couple of bones for Wolf.
She gave one to the canine, which he carried in his mouth until he found a comfortable place to settle down and gnaw on it, near the place where his people ate. Ayla wrapped the other one that had more meat on it in some large leaves that had lined a platter to make a nice presentation, to carry back to the camp for later. She tucked the bone into the small one-sided haversack that she used to carry things, especially things for Jonayla like a hard rawhide scrap that the baby liked to chew on, a hat and a small extra blanket, and some soft absorbent material like mouflon wool that she stuffed around the baby. She also carried her tinder kit for starting fires in a pouch tied to her waist, and her personal dishes and eating knife. They found some logs with pads on them nearby, obviously dragged there for seating.
“I wonder if any of mother’s wine is left,” Jondalar remarked.
“Let’s go see,” Jondecam said.
There was not even a drop, but Laramar had noticed them, and hurried over with a freshly opened waterbag of barma. He filled the personal cups of both the men, but both Ayla and Levela said they didn’t want much, and would just take a sip from the men’s drinks. Ayla didn’t want to make pleasant talk with the man for too long. After a few minutes, they went back to the logs with pads on them that were near the food. When they finished, they strolled back to Proleva’s shelter at the camp of the Third Cave.
“There you are. You’re back early,” Proleva said, after they brushed each other’s cheeks in greeting. “Did you see Joharran?”
“No,” Levela said. “We only listened to one story, then got some food. It was a story about Ayla, sort of.”
“Actually, it was about Wolf. It was a story about a boy who turned into a wolf that loved a woman,” Jondalar said. “Wolf came and found Ayla right in the middle of it, which pleased Galliadal and the three young people of his hearth, who were helping him tell the story.”
“Jonayla is still sleeping. Would you like a nice cup of hot tea?” Proleva said.
“I don’t think so. We’re going back to our camp,” Ayla said.
“You’re not going back, too?” Velima said to Levela. “We’ve hardly had any time to visit. I want to know about your pregnancy and how you are feeling.”
“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” Proleva said. “There’s room for all four of you. And Jaradal would love to see Wolf when he wakes up.”
Levela and Jondecam quickly agreed. The camp of the Second Cave was nearby, and the idea of spending some time with her mother and her sister was appealing to Levela, and Jondecam didn’t mind.
Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other. “I really should check on the horses,” Ayla said. “We left early and I don’t know of anyone who stayed at camp today. I just want to know they are all right, especially Gray. She can be a tempting treat for some four-legged hunter, though I know Whinney and Racer will protect her. I would just feel better going back.”
“I understand. She’s a little like your baby, too,” Proleva said.
Ayla nodded and smiled in agreement, “And where is my baby?”
“She’s over there, sleeping with Sethona. It’s a shame to disturb her—are you sure you won’t stay?”
“We’d like to, but one of the problems with having horses as friends is that you feel responsible for them, especially if you keep them in an enclosure that is not closed to four-legged hunters,” Jondalar said. “Ayla is right. We need to check on them.”
Ayla had wrapped her child in her carrying blanket and was hoisting the baby onto her hip. She woke briefly, but then settled down next to her mother’s warmth and went back to sleep. “I really appreciate your watching her, Proleva. The storytelling was interesting, and it made it much easier to watch and listen without interruption,” Ayla said.
“It was my pleasure. Those two girls are getting to know each other and they are starting to entertain each other. I think they are going to be real friends,” Proleva said.
“It was fun watching them together,” Velima said. “It’s good if close cousins spend time with each other.”
Ayla signaled Wolf, who picked up his bone, and they all left the summer dwelling. Jondalar selected a torch that was stuck in the ground, one of many lighting a path outside the shelter, and checked it to see how much burning material was left to make sure it would last until they reached their camp.
They left the warm glow of fires in the Main Camp and moved into the deep soft obscurity of night. The enveloping darkness wrapped itself around them with an intensity that absorbed the light and seemed to smother the flame of the torch.
“It’s so dark; there’s no moon tonight,” Ayla said.
“But there are clouds,” Jondalar said. “They are blocking out the stars. You can’t see many.”
“When did it cloud up? I didn’t notice them when we were in Camp.”
“That’s because all the fires are distracting, and the light from them fills your eyes.” They walked quietly side by side for a while, then Jondalar added, “Sometimes you fill my eyes, and I wish there weren’t so many people around.”
She smiled and turned to look at him. “On our way here when it was just the two of us and Whinney, Racer, and Wolf, I was often lonely for people. Now we have
“I think about that, too,” Jondalar said. “I remember when, if I looked at you and felt you fill my manhood, we could just stop and share Pleasures. I didn’t have to go with Joharran to meet some people to make arrangements for something, or do something for mother, or just see so many people around that there is no place to stop and relax and do what I want with you.”
“I feel the same way,” Ayla said. “I remember when I could look at you and feel inside how only you could make me feel, and know that if I gave you the right signal, you would make me feel that way again because you know me better than I know myself. And I wouldn’t have to think about taking care of a baby, and maybe several others at the same time, or plan a feast with Proleva, or help Zelandoni take care of someone who is sick or hurt, or learn about some new treatments, or remember the Five Sacred Colors, or how to use counting words. Although I love all of it, sometimes I miss you, Jondalar, I miss being with just you.”
“I don’t mind having Jonayla around. I like to watch you with her; sometimes that fills me even more, but I can wait until she’s content. The trouble is that usually someone comes and interrupts, and I have to go someplace, or you do.” He stopped to kiss her tenderly; then they continued, walking in silence.
The walk was not long but as they neared the camp of the Ninth Cave, they almost stumbled over a cold fireplace before they noticed it. There were no fires anyplace, not a single dying ember or tent glowing from the light within or line of light from a crack between planks. They could smell the vestiges of old fires, but it appeared that no one was there and hadn’t been for some time. Every single person from the most populous Cave in the region had left their camp.