The Land of Painted Caves by Jean M. Auel
As they were coming out of the structure under the overhanging shelter, Wolf left Ayla’s side and started sniffing around a structure in one corner. She heard a cry of fear in a woman’s voice. She left the others and immediately went to see what was wrong. She found a woman who had covered her head and shoulders with a soft buckskin blanket, cringing in a corner. It was the burned woman who had been hiding from the visitors. Wolf had dropped down on his belly, whining a little as he tried to edge closer. Ayla dropped down beside him and waited awhile, then began to speak to the frightened woman.
“This is Wolf,” Ayla said. She had named him the Mamutoi word for the animal, so the woman heard only a strange sound. She tried to squeeze farther back into the corner and covered her head completely. “He won’t hurt you.” Ayla put her arm around the wolf. “I found him when he was a tiny little puppy, but he grew up with the children of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi.”
The woman became very conscious of Ayla’s accent, especially after hearing her word for Wolf, and strange words for the name of the people she had mentioned. Despite herself, she was curious. Ayla could hear that her breathing had calmed down.
“There was a boy who lived with them who had been adopted by the leader’s mate,” Ayla continued. “Some people would call him an abomination, a mixture of Clan, the people some call Flatheads, and those who look like us, but Nezzie was a caring woman. She was nursing her own child and after the Clan woman who gave birth to him died, she fed the newborn infant. She just couldn’t let him go to the next world, too, but Rydag was weak, and he couldn’t talk the way we do.
“The people of the Clan mostly talk with hand movements. They have words, but not as many as we do, and they can’t say many of the words we speak. I lost my family in an earthquake, but I was lucky because a clan found me and a woman of the Clan raised me. I learned to speak the way they do. Their words don’t sound like ours, but those are the ones I learned to say when I was growing up. That’s why I sound different when I talk, especially some of my words. As hard as I try, I still can’t quite make certain sounds.”
Although the light in the corner was quite dim, Ayla noticed that the cover had fallen away from the woman’s head and she was obviously listening intently to Ayla’s story. Wolf was still whining softly and straining to inch forward to reach her.
“When I brought Wolf back to the lodge of the Lion Camp, he developed a special closeness to that boy who was weak. I don’t know why, but Wolf also loves babies and small children. They can poke at him, and pull his hair, and he never complains. It’s as if he knows they don’t mean to, and he just feels very protective toward them. You may think it’s a strange way for a wolf to act, but that’s how they behave toward their own puppies. The whole pack is protective toward the young ones and Wolf felt especially protective of that weak boy.”
Ayla bent closer to the woman as Wolf crept closer. “I think he feels that way about you. I think he knows that you were hurt, and he wants to protect you. See, he’s trying to reach you, but he’s being very careful about it. Have you ever touched a living wolf before? Their fur is soft in some places and coarse in others. If you give me your hand, I’ll show you.”
Without warning, Ayla reached for the woman’s hand and, before she could pull it away, put it on the top of Wolf’s head, as the animal laid his head down on her leg. “He’s warm, isn’t he? And he likes it when you rub behind his ears.”
Ayla felt her start to rub Wolf’s head, then took her hand away. She had felt the scarring, and the stiffness where the skin had pulled tight as it healed, but she seemed to have the use of her hand. “How did it happen? Your burns?” Ayla asked.
“I filled a cooking basket with hot stones, and added a few more until it was boiling, then I tried to move it over. It split open and the hot water splashed all over me,” she said. “It was so stupid! I knew that basket was wearing out. I should have stopped using it, but I was just going to make some tea, and it was nearby.”
Ayla nodded. “Sometimes we don’t stop to think. Do you have a mate? Or children?”
“Yes, I have a mate, and children, a boy and girl. I told him to take them to the Summer Meeting. No reason for them to pay the price for my stupidity. It was my fault that I can’t go anymore.”
“Why can’t you go anymore? You can walk, can’t you? You didn’t burn your legs or feet.”
“I don’t want people looking at me with pity for my scarred face and hands,” the woman said angrily, as tears came to her eyes. She moved her hand away from Wolf’s head and put the blanket back over her head.
“Yes, some people will look at you with pity, but we all have accidents, and some people are born with worse problems. I don’t think you can let it stop you from living. Your face is not that bad, and with time the scars will fade and won’t show as much. The scars on your hands and probably your arms are worse, but you can use your hands, can’t you?”
“Some. Not the way I used to.”
“They will get better, too.”
“How do you know so much? Who are you?” the woman said.
“I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandoni,” Ayla said, holding out her hands in formal greeting as she began reciting her names and ties, “Acolyte of the One Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother …” She went through all her usual names and ties because it gave her something to say. She ended with “Friend of the horses, Whinney, Racer, and Gray, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf—his name just means ‘wolf’ in the Mamutoi language. I greet you in the name of Doni, Mother of All.”
“You are the acolyte of the First? Her First Acolyte?” the woman said, forgetting her manners for the moment.
“Her only acolyte, although her former acolyte is with us, too. He is Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave now.” Ayla said. “We have come to see your Sacred Site.”
The woman suddenly realized that she was going to have to extend her hands and take hold of the hands of this young woman to formally introduce herself to the acolyte of the First, who had obviously traveled far and seemed so accomplished. This was one of the main reasons she hadn’t wanted to go to the Summer Meeting. She would have had to show not only her face but her burned hands to everyone she met. She bowed her head and thought about hiding them under the cover and saying she was unable to greet her properly, but the acolyte had already touched her hand and knew that wasn’t true. Finally, she took a deep breath, then pushed the blanket away and held out her badly burned hands.
“I am Dulana of the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii,” she said, beginning to recite her names and ties.
Ayla, holding both of her hands, concentrated on them. They were stiff and the skin was stretched, bumpy and irregular, and probably still a little painful, she thought.
“… in the name of Doni, I welcome you, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”
“Are your hands still giving you some pain, Dulana?” Ayla asked. “Some willow-bark tea would probably help if they are. I have some with me if you need it.”
“I can get some from our Zelandoni, but I didn’t know if I should keep on taking it,” Dulana said.
“If you are still feeling pain, then do it. It keeps the heat and redness away, too. And I was just thinking that maybe you, or someone you know, could make some fine soft skins, maybe rabbit skins, and put together some mittens for you, except with fingers. Then when you meet people, they probably wouldn’t notice that your hands are a little rough. And do you have some nice clean white tallow? I can make a hand softening cream for you. Maybe add some beeswax, and rose petals to make it smell nice. I have some of both with me. You could rub it on during the day, and wear it under your finger-mittens, too. You can put it on your face to soften those burn scars and help them fade away,” Ayla said, thinking as she was talking of what could be done to help the woman.
Suddenly Dulana started crying.
“What’s wrong, Dulana?” Ayla said. “Did I say something to upset you?”
“No. It’s just the first time anyone has said anything to me that gave me hope,” Dulana sobbed. “I was feeling that my life was ruined, that everything had changed so much, nothing would ever be the same, but you make the burns and the scars seem like nothing, like no one will even notice, and you tell me all these things that can help. Our Zelandoni tries, but he’s so young, and healing isn’t his best talent.” The young woman paused and looked directly at Ayla. “I think I know why the First chose you for her acolyte, even if you weren’t born to the Zelandonii. She is the First, and you are First Acolyte. Should I call you that?”
Ayla gave her a wry smile. “I know that someday I will probably have to give up my name and be called ‘Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave,’ but not too soon, I hope. I like being called Ayla. It’s my name, the name my real mother gave me, or close to it anyway. It’s the only thing I have left from her.”
“Ayla, then, and how do you say the name of this wolf?” He had put his head back down on her leg again, and she found it comforting.
“Wolf,” Ayla said.
Dulana made an attempt at the name, and Wolf lifted his head and looked at her, acknowledging her effort.
“Why don’t you come out and meet everyone,” Ayla said. “The Trade Master is with us and he tells wonderful stories about his travels, and the First might sing some of the Elder Legends, and she has a beautiful voice. You shouldn’t miss out.”
“I guess maybe I could,” Dulana said, softly. She had been feeling lonely staying inside her dwelling by herself while everyone else was enjoying the visitors. When she got up and walked out, Wolf stayed close to her. Everyone from the Cave, especially the Zelandoni, was surprised to see her, and even more to see the way the four-legged hunter seemed to have developed a protective closeness to her. Instead of Ayla, or even Jonayla, he chose to sit beside Dulana. The First glanced at her acolyte and gave her an inconspicuous nod of approval.
In the morning the visitors and some of the local residents prepared to visit the nearby painted cave. There were several stone shelters in the region, many of them home to various Caves, usually named with their own counting words, though on occasion two or three that lived close to each other joined together to make a single Cave. Most were empty now, with the people doing their usual summer traveling. A few people from nearby Caves who did not make the trek to their Summer Meeting had come to stay where there was a Zelandoni in residence.
All eight adults who were traveling on the Donier Tour, plus five who were staying at the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii, were in the group who came to see the Sacred Site, which included the two hunters who normally lived at the nearby stone shelter. Dulana had offered to watch Jonayla, Ayla suspected she missed her children. Jonayla was willing to stay with the woman, and Wolf was willing to stay with both of them, so Ayla agreed. Although the child could walk, she was only a four-year, so Ayla often carried her. Jondalar also carried her occasionally, but Ayla was so used to carrying her daughter, she felt as if she had forgotten something when they started out.
They reached the small stone shelter that the First had pointed out to Ayla on their way there. The opening faced east and it was obvious that the site had been used as a living space at times. The dark charcoal circle of a former fireplace was still partially surrounded with stones, though some were missing. A couple of larger chunks of limestone that had broken loose from wall or ceiling had been dragged closer to it for seating. A torn and discarded leather covering lay in a pile near a wall next to a few large and awkward pieces of wood that would likely last through the night if the fire was big and hot enough to get them started.
The entrance to the cave was at the north end of the abri under a short section of overhanging ledge, which was weathering and shedding pieces of broken rock that were beginning to pile up in front of the opening that led inside the wall of stone.
The Zelandoni had put some wood, tinder, and a fire-making drill and platform along with some stone lamps into a backframe that he slipped off near the firepit. Then he began to organize the materials. When she saw what he was doing, Ayla reached into a leather pouch hanging from her waist thong and retrieved two stones. One was a strong piece of flint in a sturdy blade shape, the other a walnut-sized chunk of stone with a silvery-brassy metallic luster. A groove had been worn into the shiny stone from being struck repeatedly by the flint blade.
“Will you allow me to start a fire?” Ayla asked.
“I’m pretty good at it. It won’t take me long,” the Zelandoni said as he started to cut a notch in the platform for the pointed end of the wooden drill he would twirl between his hands.
“She can do it faster,” Willamar said with a grin.
“You seem very sure,” the young Zelandoni said, beginning to feel a bit competitive. He was rather proud of his fire-making skill. There were few who could make a fire from scratch faster than he could.
“Why don’t you let her show you,” Jonokol said.
“Fine,” the young man said, then stood up and backed away. “Go ahead.”
Ayla knelt down by the dark, cold fireplace, then looked up. “May I use your tinder and kindling, since it’s here?” she asked.
“Why not?” the local Zelandoni said.
Ayla piled the light, dry tinder together, then bent down close to it. She struck the iron pyrite with the flint, and the young Zelandoni thought for a moment that he saw a flash of light. Ayla struck again, this time drawing off a large spark that landed on the desiccated, easily flammable material and brought forth a bit of smoke that she started blowing on. In a moment there was a small flame, which she fed with more tinder, then slightly larger pieces, then kindling, then small wood. When it was established, she sat back on her heels. The young Zelandoni stood with his mouth agape.
“You’ll catch flies that way,” the Trade Master said, grinning.
“How did you do that?” the young local Zelandoni asked.
“It’s not that difficult with a firestone,” Ayla said. “I’ll show you before we leave, if you’d like.”
After a few more heartbeats to let the surprising fire-making display settle in, the First spoke up. “Let’s get the lamps lit. I notice you brought some—are there also some stored here?”
“Usually. It depends on who was here last,” the young man said as he retrieved three shallow bowls gouged out of the local limestone from his backframe, “but I don’t count on it.” He also took out a small rawhide packet of wick materials and a hollow aurochs horn from a young animal—much more manageable than the huge horns of a mature adult specimen—with the open end covered by several layers of nearly waterproof intestine tied on with sinew. Inside was softened grease. He also had some torches made of leaves, grasses, and other vegetation tied tightly around a stick while they were still green enough to be pliable, left to dry for a short while, then dipped in warm pine pitch.
“Is it a very big cave?” Amelana asked. She was slightly nervous in deep caves, especially if they were difficult.
“No,” the local Zelandoni said. “There’s only one main room with a passage leading to it, a smaller side room on the left, and an ancillary passage on the right. The most sacred areas are in the principal room.”
He poured a little softened grease into each of the three stone lamps, added mushroom wicks, then catching fire with a twig, used it to light the wicks once they had drawn up some of the fuel. He also lit one of the torches, then quickly put everything into his backframe again and shouldered it. He led the way into the cave, holding the torch high. One of the hunters brought up the rear to make sure no one got into trouble or fell behind. It was a large group and if it hadn’t been a reasonably accessible cave, the First would not have allowed so many people to go in at one time.
Ayla was near the front, with the First and Jondalar behind her. She glanced down and noticed a broken piece of flint on the ground, and not far beyond another blade of flint that appeared whole, but she left them both. Once they were be
“On the left is just a constricted little tunnel,” the young Zelandoni said. “The right leads down to the ancillary passage. We’ll go straight ahead, more or less.”
He held the torch high and Ayla looked back. She saw people filing into the enlarged space. Interspersed among them were three lights, three people holding the stone lamps. In the absolute black inside the cave, the torch and small fires appeared to shed much more light than seemed possible, especially now that her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. As they continued, the passage ahead veered slightly to the left and back again to the right, but the way was essentially straight. After a slight widening, the passage narrowed and the Zelandoni stopped. He held the torch high toward the left wall and Ayla saw claw marks.
“At some time bears have hibernated in this cave, but I have never seen them,” the young man said.
Just beyond them, some large rocks had fallen from the wall or ceiling, requiring everyone to go single file. On the other side of the rocks, the Zelandoni again held the torch toward the left. On the wall were the first definitive signs that people had been there before: looping, swirling traces done with the fingers adorned the space. A little farther and the passageway opened out again.
“On the left is the secondary room, but there’s not much in there except red and black dots in certain places,” the Zelandoni said. “Though they don’t seem to be much, they are very meaningful, but you have to belong to the zelandonia to understand. We’ll go straight ahead.”
He went on straight ahead and after a little jog to the right, he stopped in front of a panel that contained finger traces in red ocher and six black fingerprints. The next panel was more complex. The young man held up the torch while people crowded around. There were what appeared to be human figures, but they were vague, almost ghostlike, and there were deer all interspersed with dots. It was very enigmatic, spiritual, numinous, and it gave Ayla a chill. She was not alone. It suddenly became very still. She realized she hadn’t noticed that people had been quietly talking until they stopped.