The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 11

Wolf was slipping through the crowd, occasionally brushing against someone's leg but gone before they could catch more than a glimpse of what had touched them. Though most people were familiar with him, he was still a surprise that could bring a gasp or a squeal of apprehension when he was noticed. He even surprised Ayla when he appeared so unexpectedly and sat in front of her, looking up at her face. Danella was startled, because he had appeared so quickly, but she wasn't afraid.

'Wolf! You've been gone all day. I was beginning to wonder where you were. Exploring the whole area, I think,' Ayla said as she rubbed the ruff of fur around his neck and scratched behind his ears. He reached up to lick her neck and chin, then put his head in her lap, seeming to enjoy her welcoming strokes and caresses. When she stopped, he curled up in front of her and laid his head on his paws, relaxed, but watchful.

Galliadal along with the others on the platform watched him, and then the man smiled. 'Our unusual visitor has come at an appropriate time in the story,' he said. Then back in character, he continued.

' "Is that what you want? To be a natural-born hunter?" the old Zelandoni asked.

' "Yes! That's it. I want to be a natural-born hunter," Wolafon said.

' "Then come into my cave," said the old woman.' The tone of the story was no longer at all humorous; it was ominous.

'As soon as Wolafon walked into the cave, he became very sleepy. He sat down on a pile of wolf furs, and was instantly asleep. When he finally woke up, he felt that he had slept for a long time, but he didn't know how long. The cave was empty, with no sign that it had ever been inhabited. He quickly ran outside.' The young man on the platform ran out of the imaginary cave using both hands and feet.

'The sun was shining and he was thirsty. As he headed for the river, he began to notice that something was strange. For one thing, he was seeing things from a different angle, as though he were lower to the ground. When he reached the edge of the stream, he felt the cold water on his feet as though he didn't have any foot-coverings on. When he looked down, he didn't see feet at all; he saw paws, the paws of a wolf.

'At first he was confused. Then he realised what had happened. The old Zelandoni had given him exactly what he asked for. He wanted to become a natural-born hunter, and now he was. He had become a wolf. That wasn't what he meant when he asked to be a good hunter, but it was too late now.

'Wolafon was so sorry he wanted to cry, but he had no tears. He waited at the water's edge, and in the stillness, began to be aware of the woods in a new way. He could hear things he had never heard before, and smell things he hadn't even known existed. He picked up the scent of many things, especially animals, and when he focused on a large rabbit, a white hare, realised that he was hungry. But now he knew exactly what to do. Quietly, slowly, he stalked the creature. Though the hare was very fast, and could turn in an instant, the wolf anticipated his moves and caught him.'

Ayla smiled to herself at this part of the story. Most people did believe that wolves and other meat-eaters were born knowing how to hunt and kill their prey, but she knew better. After she had mastered the use of the sling, practising in secret, she wanted to take the next step, to actually hunt with it, but hunting was forbidden to the women of the Clan. Many carnivores often stole meat from Brun's clan, particularly smaller meat-eaters like martens, stoats, and other weasels, small wild cats, foxes, and middle-size hunters like vicious wolverines, tufted lynxes, wolves, and hyenas. Ayla justified her decision to defy the Clan taboo by resolving that she would hunt only meat-eaters, animals that were destructive to her clan, leaving the hunting of food animals to the men. As a result, she not only excelled as a hunter, but she learned a great deal about her chosen prey. She spent the first few years observing them before she managed to make her first kill. She knew that while the tendency to hunt was strong in meat-eaters, they all had to be taught by their elders in one way or another. Wolves weren't born knowing how to hunt; young ones learned from their pack.

She was drawn back into Galliadal's storytelling. 'The taste of warm blood running down his throat was delicious and Wolafon quickly devoured the hare. He went back to the river for another drink and cleaned the blood off his fur. Then he nosed around looking for a secure place. When he found one, he curled up and using his tail to cover his face, he went to sleep. When he woke up again, it was dark, but he could see better at night than he ever had before. He stretched languorously, lifted his leg and sprayed a bush, then went out hunting again.' The young man on the platform did a good job of mimicking a wolf's actions, and when he lifted his leg, the audience laughed.

'Wolafon lived in the cave that had been abandoned by the old woman for some time, hunting for himself and enjoying it, but after a while he began to get lonely. The boy had become a wolf, but he was still a boy, too, and he began to think about returning home to see his mother, and the attractive young woman from the south. He headed back toward the Cave of his mother, running with the ease of a wolf. When he saw a young deer who had strayed away from its mother, he remembered that the girl from the south liked to eat meat, and decided he would hunt it and bring it to her.

'When Wolafon got close, some people saw him coming and were afraid. They wondered why a wolf was dragging a deer toward their home. He saw the attractive young woman, but he didn't notice the tall, handsome, fair-haired man standing beside her holding a new kind of weapon that enabled him to throw spears very far and fast, but as the man was preparing to cast a spear, Wolafan dragged the meat to the woman and dropped it at her feet. Then he sat down in front of her and looked up. He was trying to tell her that he loved her, but Wolafon couldn't speak anymore. He could only show his love by his actions and the look in his eyes, and it was obvious that he was a wolf who loved a woman.'

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 realise that it was a good place to stop.

Ayla felt embarrassed to be the centre 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 practising.'

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 travelled 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 any time.'

'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, Grey, 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 realised that nothing bad would happen, his innate curiosity and interest was 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.

'She had no choice,' Jondalar said. 'She lost her people when she was five years old, was adopted by strangers and had to learn their ways, then lived alone for a few years before I found her, or I should say, she found me. I had been attacked by a lion. She rescued me, and treated my wounds. When you lose everything at such a young age, you have to adapt and learn quickly or you won't survive. She's alive because she was able to learn so many things.'

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 flavour. 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-coloured 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 Grey. 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 signalled 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 people and I'm glad, but sometimes I remember when it was just the two of us and we could do whatever we wanted whenever we felt like it. Maybe not always, but most of the time.'

'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 colours, 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.

'No one is here,' Ayla said, very surprised. 'Everyone is gone. Except for the ones who may have gone hunting or visiting, they must all be at the Main Camp.'

'Here's our dwelling, at least I think it is,' Jondalar said. 'Let's build a fire inside to warm it up, then go check on the horses.'

They brought in some wood and dried aurochs dung patties that had been stacked outside and started a fire in the small fireplace they had created near their sleeping places. Wolf came in with them and parked his bone in a small hole near an area of the wall that was seldom used by anyone but him. Ayla checked the large waterbag near the main hearth.

'We should bring in some water, too,' she said. 'There's not much left in this. Let's go find the horses. Then I'm going to have to feed Jonayla; she's starting to fuss around.'

'I'd better get a new torch. This one will go out soon,' Jondalar said. 'I should spend some time tomorrow making new ones.'

He lit a new torch off the old one, then put the remains of the first in the fireplace. When they left the shelter, Wolf followed them out. Ayla heard him make a low throaty growl as they approached the fence of the horse surround.

'Something's wrong,' she said, hurrying.

Jondalar held the torch high to spread the light it gave off. There was a strange lump of something near the centre of the enclosed space. As they neared it, Wolf's growl grew louder. When they got closer they could see pale grey, spotted, rather fluffy fur with a long tail, and a lot of blood.

'It's a leopard, a young snow leopard, I think. It's been trampled to death. What's a snow leopard doing here? They like the highlands,' Ayla said. She ran toward a roofed shelter they had constructed for the horses to get out of the rain, but it was empty.

'Whiiinnney,' she called, 'Whiiiinnney!' making it a loud neigh that sounded to Jondalar exactly like a horse.

It was the name she had originally given the mare. The name she was called by most people, Whinney, was an accommodation Ayla had made to the language of people. She whinnied again, then blew her special call whistle very loudly. Finally, from a distance, they heard an answering neigh.

'Wolf, go find Whinney,' she said to the canine. The animal raced off in the direction of the neigh with Ayla and Jondalar following behind. They went through the fence where the horses had stomped it down to break through, and she understood how they got out.

They found all three horses near a creek at the back of the area the Ninth Cave was using for their camp. Wolf was sitting on his haunches guarding them, but, Ayla realised, he wasn't too close. They had obviously had a bad scare, and somehow the wolf sensed that even the friendly carnivore felt threatening at the moment. Ayla rushed to Whinney, but slowed down when she noticed that Whinney was watching her intently, her mouth tight, her ears, nose, and eyes pointed toward her, focused on her, sometimes swinging her head slightly.

'You're still afraid, aren't you?' Ayla began talking to the mare softly in their special language. 'I don't blame you, Whinney.' Again she said her name the way a horse would, but more softly. 'I'm sorry I left you alone to fight off that leopard by yourselves, and I'm sorry no one was here to hear you when you were screaming for help.'

She had been slowly walking toward the horse as she spoke until finally she reached her and put her arms around the sturdy neck. The horse relaxed, put her head over the woman's shoulder and leaned into her as Ayla leaned back in the familiar comforting stance that had been their custom since the early days in the valley.

Jondalar followed her lead, whistling his call to Racer, who was also still feeling frightened. He stuck the torch in the ground, then approached the young stallion, and stroked and scratched him in his favourite places. The handling by their familiar friends comforted the animals, and soon Grey also joined in, nursing from her dam for a while, then going to Ayla for some affectionate touching and scratching. Jondalar also joined in stroking the little filly. But it was only after the five of them were all together — six including Jonayla, who was awake and squirming in her carrying blanket — that Wolf joined them.

Even though Whinney and Racer had known him from the time he was a four-week-old pup and had helped to raise him, his underlying scent was still of a carnivore, a meat-eater whose wild cousins often preyed on horses. Wolf had sensed their discomfort when they saw him, probably from their scent of fear, and knew to wait until they were comfortable again before approaching them. He was welcomed to the pack of people and horses that he had imprinted on, the only pack he had known.

About then Jonayla decided it was her turn. She let out a hungry wail. Ayla took her out of her carrying blanket and held her out in front to pass her water on the ground. When she was through, Ayla propped her up on Grey's back for a moment, holding her with one hand while she straightened out the carrying blanket and exposed a breast with the other hand. Soon the infant was wrapped up again, held close to her mother, happily nursing.

On the way back, they made a detour around the enclosure, knowing that the horses would never go into it again. Ayla thought that she would get rid of the leopard carcass later and she wasn't sure about the enclosure. At the moment she never wanted to put the horses in one again and would be happy to give the wooden poles and planks to whoever wanted them, for firewood if nothing else. When they reached their lodge, they led the horses around to an area on the back side of the summer dwelling that was used infrequently, where some grass still grew.

'Should we put a halter on them and tie them to a ground stake?' Jondalar said. 'It would keep them close by.'

'I think it would upset Whinney, and Racer, after their scare, if they couldn't run freely. For now I think they will want to stay close, unless something scares them again, and we'd hear them. I think I'm going to leave Wolf out here to guard them, at least for tonight.' She went to the animal and bent down close. 'Stay here, Wolf. Stay here and watch Whinney, and Racer and Grey. Stay and guard the horses.' She wasn't entirely sure if he understood, but when he lowered his hind quarters and looked toward the horses, she thought he might. She pulled out the bone she had tucked away for him and gave it to him.

The small fire they had started inside the shelter had long since gone out, so they started a new one, bringing in more fuel to keep it going. About then, Ayla noticed that the nursing was encouraging Jonayla to generate more than water. She quickly spread out a small pile of soft absorbent cattail fibres, and laid the child's bare bottom on it.

'Jondalar, would you get the large waterbag and bring me whatever is left in it, so I can clean her up, then go and fill it with fresh water, and our small one, too,' Ayla said.

'She is a smelly little thing,' he said with an adoring smile at the little girl he thought was utterly beautiful.

He found the bowl made of tightly woven osier willow withes with an ochre-stained red cord worked in near the top, which was often used to clean especially dirty messes of various kinds. It was marked with the colour so it wouldn't inadvertently be used for drinking water or cooking. He brought it and the nearly empty waterbag to their hearth, filled the bowl, then took their waterbag, made of the stomach of an ibex, the same one that provided the hide for Jonayla's carrying blanket, along with the large general one to the entrance. He picked up one of the unlit torches that was nearby, took it to their fireplace to light it, and picking up the waterbags on the way, went out.

Animal stomachs, when thoroughly cleaned and with extra holes at the bottom sewed or tied off, were nearly waterproof and made excellent waterbags. When Jondalar came back with the water, the soiled water bowl was beside the night basket near the door, and Ayla was nursing Jonayla again in hopes of putting her to sleep.

'I suppose I should empty the bowl and the night basket, while I'm at it,' he said, planting the end of the lighted torch in the ground.

'If you want, but hurry,' Ayla said, looking at him with a languorous yet mischievous smile. 'I think Jonayla is almost asleep.'

He felt an immediate tightening in his loins and smiled back. He brought the large, heavy waterbag to the main hearth and hung it on its accustomed place, a peg on one of the strong posts that supported the structure, then brought the second one to their sleeping place.

'Are you thirsty?' he asked, as he watched her nurse the baby.

'I wouldn't mind a little water. I was thinking of making some tea, but I think I'll wait until later,' she said.

He poured some water in a cup and gave it to her, then went back to the door. He poured the contents of the bowl into the night basket, then picked up the torch and went back outside taking the night basket and soiled bowl with him. Propping the torch in the ground, he dumped the large, malodorous night basket in one of the trenches the people used for passing their wastes. Dumping such wastes was a job no one liked to do. Picking up the torch, he then took them both to the lower end of the stream, far away from the place upstream that they had designated as their source of water. He rinsed them both out, letting the water flow through them; then with a shovel made of the scapula of some animal, with one edge thinned and sharpened, that was left there for the purpose, he filled the night basket something less than half full of dirt. Then, using clean sand from the bank of the waterway, he carefully washed and scoured his hands. Finally, with the torch to guide his way, he picked up the basket and bowl and headed back to the dwelling.

He put the night basket in its usual place, the bowl beside it, and the flaming torch in a holder made for it near the entrance. 'That's done,' he said, smiling at Ayla as he walked toward her. She was still holding the baby. He kicked off his sandals made of woven grass — the usual foot-coverings worn in the summer — and lay down beside her, propping himself up on one elbow.

'It will be someone else's turn next,' she said.

'That water is cold,' he said.

'And so are your hands,' she said, reaching for them. 'I should warm them up,' she added, the hint of suggestion in her voice.

He looked at her with glowing eyes, his pupils enlarged with desire, and the dim light inside the dwelling.