The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 12

Jondalar enjoyed watching Jonayla, whatever she was doing, whether it was nursing or playing with her feet or putting things in her mouth. He even liked to look at her when she was sleeping. Now he gazed at her trying to resist falling to sleep. She would start to let go of her mother's nipple, then suckle a few more times and hold on for a moment, then begin to let go, and repeat the process. Finally she lay quietly in her mother's arms. He was fascinated as a drop of milk formed at the end of the nipple and fell.

'I think she's asleep,' he said, softly.

'Yes, I think so,' Ayla said. She had packed the baby in clean mouflon wool, which she had washed a few days before, and wrapped her up in her usual swaddling night clothes. The woman stood up and gently carried her infant to a nearby small sleeping roll. Ayla didn't always move Jonayla out of her bed when she went to sleep, but on this night she definitely wanted their sleeping roll for just Jondalar and her.

When she went back, the man who was waiting watched her as she slipped back into her place beside him; she looked directly at him, which still took some conscious thought for her. Jondalar had taught her that among his people, and most of his kind — and hers — it was considered impolite, if not devious, if you didn't look directly at the person to whom you were speaking.

While Ayla was looking at him, she started thinking about how other people saw this man she loved, how he appeared, his physical look. What was it about him that drew people to him before he even said a word? He was tall, with yellow hair lighter than hers, and he was strong and well made, with good proportions for his height. Though she couldn't see the colour in the dim light of the shelter, she knew that his eyes, which always caught people's attention, matched the extraordinary blue of glacier water and the ice of its depths. She had seen both. He was intelligent and skilled in making things, like the flint tools he crafted, but more than that, she knew he had a quality, a charm, a charisma that attracted most people, but especially women. Zelandoni had been known to say that not even the Mother could refuse him if he asked.

He didn't quite know he had it — it was an unconscious appeal — but he did tend to take for granted that he would always be welcomed. Though it wasn't something he used on purpose, exactly, he knew he had an effect on people and benefited from it. Even his long Journey had not disabused him of the notion, or changed his perception that wherever he went, people would accept him, approve of him, like him. He had never really had to explain himself or find out how to fit in, and he never learned how to ask for pardon for doing something inappropriate or unacceptable.

If he seemed contrite or acted sorry — feelings that were usually genuine — people tended to accept that. Even when he was a young man and had beat Ladroman so badly that he knocked out his permanent front teeth, Jondalar didn't have to find the words to say he was sorry, then face him, and say them. His mother paid a heavy compensation for him, and he was sent away to live with Dalanar, the man of his hearth, for a few years, but he didn't have to do anything himself to make amends. He didn't have to beg forgiveness, or even say he was sorry for doing something wrong and injuring the other boy.

Though to most people he was considered an amazingly handsome, masculine man, Ayla thought of him in a somewhat different way. Men of the people who raised her, men of the Clan, had features that were more rugged, with large round eye sockets, generous noses, and pronounced brow ridges. From the first moment she saw him, unconscious, almost dead, after being attacked by her lion, the man had aroused an unconscious memory of people she hadn't seen in many years, a memory of people like herself. To Ayla, Jondalar's features were not as strong as those of the men with whom she had grown up, but they were so perfectly shaped and arranged, she thought that he was incredibly beautiful, like a fine-looking animal, a healthy young horse or lion. Jondalar had explained to her that it was not a word usually used to describe men, but though she didn't say it often, she did think he was beautiful.

He looked at her as he lay beside her, then bent his head to kiss her. He felt the softness of her lips and slowly moved his tongue between them, which she obligingly opened. He felt a tightening of his loins again.

'Ayla, you are so beautiful, and I am so lucky,' he said.

'I am so lucky,' she said. 'And you are beautiful.'

He smiled. She knew it wasn't quite the word to use, though she used 'beautiful' correctly in all other instances. Now, when she said it to him in private, he just smiled. She hadn't closed the ties at the top of the opening of her tunic, though her breast had slipped back inside. He reached in and pulled it out again, the same one she had just used to nurse, and ran his tongue around the nipple, then suckled on it, tasting her milk.

'It feels different inside me when you do it,' she said softly. 'I like it when Jonayla nurses, but it doesn't feel the same. You make me want you to touch me in other places.'

'You make me want to touch you in those places.'

He undid all the ties and opened her tunic wide, exposing both breasts. When he suckled her again, her other nipple dribbled milk, and he reached over to lick that one.

'I'm coming to like the taste of your milk, but I don't want to take what belongs to Jonayla.'

'By the time she's hungry again, more milk will be there.'

He let go of the nipple and ran his tongue up to her neck and then kissed her again, this time more fiercely, and felt a need so strong he wasn't sure he could control it. He stopped and buried his face in her neck, trying to regain his composure. She began tugging on his tunic to pull it over his head.

'It's been a while,' he said, sitting up on his knees. 'I can't believe how ready I am.'

'Are you?' she said, with a teasing grin.

'I'll show you,' he said.

He stripped off his tunic with a two-handed pull over his head, then standing, untied the drawstring around his waist and pulled off his short-legged trousers. Under those he wore a protective pouch that covered his man parts, tied on around his hips with thin strips of leather. Usually made of chamois or rabbit or some other soft skin, the thong pouches tended to be worn only in summer. If the weather became very warm or a man was working especially hard, he could strip down to just that and still feel protected. Jondalar's pouch was bulging with the member it contained. He slipped the thongs down, releasing his straining manhood.

Ayla looked up at him, a slow smile showing her response. There was a time when the size of his member had frightened women, before they knew with what care and gentleness he used it. His first time with Ayla he was afraid she might be nervous, before they both understood how suited they were to each other. Sometimes Jondalar really couldn't believe how lucky he was. Whenever he wanted her, she was ready for him. She never acted coy or disinterested. It was as if she always wanted him as much as he wanted her. He responded with a grin of such happiness and delight that in response her smile grew into the glorious manifestation that transformed her in his eyes, and those of most men, into a woman of unsurpassing beauty.

The fire in their small hearth was burning down, not yet out, but not giving much light or heat. It didn't matter. He dropped down beside her and began to remove her clothing, first the long tunic, stopping to suck on her nipples again, before untying the thongs around her waist holding up her half-leggings. He loosened the waist ties, and pulled the leggings down, running his tongue down her stomach, dipping into her navel, then pulling them down more, uncovering her pubic hair. When the top of her slit showed, he dipped his tongue there, savouring her familiar taste and searching for the small knob. She made a small squeal of pleasure when he found it.

He pulled off her leggings, and bent down to kiss her again, then tasted milk and worked his way down and tasted her essence again. He spread her legs, opened her lovely petals, then found her swelling nodule. He knew just how to stimulate her; he suckled it and worked it with his tongue while he put his fingers inside her and found other places that stirred her senses.

She cried out, feeling jolts of fire rising through her. Almost too soon he felt a spurt of fluid, tasted her, and his urge to let himself go was so strong, he very nearly couldn't hold back. He raised up, found her opening with his swollen manhood, and pushed in, grateful that he didn't have to fear that he would hurt her, that she could take him all, that he fit so well.

She cried out again, and again each time he pulled out and moved in. And then he was there. With a groaning shout that he seldom expressed when others were around, he reached an intensely powerful peak and surged into her. As she heard his cries, she felt herself matching his movements, not even hearing her own sounds as the waves of sensation, matching his, flooded over her. She arched her back, pushing into him as he pushed against her. They held for a moment, shaking with the convulsions, pushing against each other as though trying to get inside each other and become one, and then they dropped down, panting to catch their breaths. He lay on top of her, the way she liked it, until he thought he must be too heavy on her and rolled over.

'I'm sorry it was so fast,' he said.

'I'm not. I was just as ready as you were, maybe more.'

They lay together for a while, then she said, 'I'd like to take a quick dip in the stream.'

'You and your cold-water baths. Do you have any idea how cold that water is? Remember when we stayed with the Losadunai on our Journey here? The hot water that came out of the ground, and the wonderful hot baths they built?' Jondalar said.

'They were wonderful, but cold water makes you feel fresh and tingly. I don't mind cold water baths,' she said.

'And I've become accustomed to them. All right. Let's build up the fire so it's warm when we come back, and go take a cold wash, a quick cold wash.'

When glaciers covered the land not far to the north, even at the height of summer the evenings could be cool at latitudes midway between the pole and the equator. They took with them the soft chamois drying skins that had been given to them by their Sharamudoi friends on their Journey, and wrapping themselves in them, ran out to the stream, downriver of their usual water source, but not as far down as the waste basket washing place.

'This water is cold!' Jondalar protested when they ran in.

'Yes, it is,' Ayla said, crouching down so that the water reached her neck and covered her shoulders. She splashed cold water on her face, then used her hands to rub herself all over under the water. She ran out, picked up the chamois towel and wrapped it around herself, and dashed toward their shelter. Jondalar was close on her heels. They hovered over the fire and dried off quickly, then hung the wet skins on a peg. They crawled into their sleeping roll and cuddled close to get warm.

Once they felt comfortable again, he whispered in her ear, 'If we go slowly, do you think you can be ready again?'

'I think so, if you can.'

Jondalar kissed her, searching with his tongue to open her mouth and she responded in kind. This time, he didn't want to rush it. He wanted to linger over her, explore her body, find all the special places that gave her pleasure, and let her find his. He ran his hand down her arm and felt her cool skin that was beginning to warm, then caressed her breast, feeling the contracted, hardened nipple in his palm. He manipulated it between his thumb and finger, then ducked his head under the cover to take it in his mouth.

There was a noise outside. They both lifted their heads above the covers to listen. There were voices, coming closer, and then the flap over the entry was pushed aside as people walked in. They both lay still listening. If everyone went right to bed, they could continue their new explorations. Neither one of them felt entirely comfortable sharing Pleasures while other people were sitting nearby fully awake and talking, although some people didn't seem to mind. It wasn't all that unusual, Jondalar realised, and tried to remember what he did when he was younger.

He knew they had grown used to seclusion when they spent a year travelling alone together to his home, but he thought that he was always a man who liked his privacy, even when Zolena was teaching him. Especially when the teaching became more than a donii-woman and her young charge, when they actually became lovers, and he wanted her to be his mate. Then he recognised her voice along with that of his mother and Willamar. The First had come with them to the camp of the Ninth Cave.

'Let me get some water heating for tea,' Marthona said. 'We can get a light from Jondalar's hearth.'

'She knows we're awake,' Jondalar whispered to Ayla. 'I think we're going to have to get up.'

'I think you're right,' Ayla said.

'I'll bring you some fire, mother,' Jondalar said, pushing the covers back and reaching for his pouch thong.

'Oh, did we wake you?' Marthona said.

'No, mother,' he said. 'You didn't wake us.' He got up and found a long, thin piece of kindling and held it to the fire until it caught, then brought the fire to the main hearth in the shelter.

'Why don't you have some tea with us,' his mother said.

'I guess we might as well,' he said. He knew that they were all fully aware that they had interrupted the young couple.

'I've been wanting to talk to both of you anyway,' Zelandoni said.

'Let me go back and put some warmer clothes on,' he said.

Ayla had already dressed herself when Jondalar got back to their small sleeping area. He quickly put on his clothing and both of them went to the main hearth, carrying their personal drinking cups.

'Someone filled up the waterbag,' Willamar said. 'I think you saved me the trouble, Jondalar.'

'Ayla noticed it was empty.'

'I saw Wolf and your horses out back of the dwelling, Ayla,' Willamar said.

'No one was in camp all day, and a snow leopard tried to get Grey. Whinney and Racer fought him off and killed him, but they broke out of the surround,' Jondalar said.

'Wolf found them way in the back of this meadow, near the cliffs and a small stream. It must have been terrible for them. They were even afraid of him and us at first,' Ayla said.

'And they wouldn't go anywhere near the surround, so we brought them here,' Jondalar said.

'Wolf is watching them now, but we'll have to find some other place to keep the horses,' Ayla said. 'I was going to find someplace to get rid of that snow leopard carcass tomorrow, and give away the wood from the surround. It would make good firewood.'

'There are some good planks on that surround. It's good for more than firewood,' Willamar said.

'You can have it all, Willamar. I don't even want to see it again,' Ayla said, with a shudder.

'Yes, why don't you decide what to do with that wood, Willamar. There are some good pieces,' Jondalar said, thinking to himself that the snow leopard had scared Ayla even more than it did the horses. It made her angry, too. She'd probably burn the surround herself just to get rid of it.

'How do you know it was a snow leopard? They are not usually found around here,' Willamar said, 'and never in summer, that I can remember.'

'When we got to the enclosure, we found the remains of the leopard, but no sign of the horses,' Jondalar said. 'Ayla found a long fluffy tail of greyish white fur with dark spots and recognised it as belonging to a snow leopard.'

'Sounds right to me,' Willamar said. 'but snow leopards like the highlands and mountains, and go after ibex, chamois, and mouflon, not usually horses.'

'Ayla said she thought it was a young one, possibly male,' Jondalar said.

'Maybe the mountain feeders are coming down early this year,' Marthona said. 'If that is true, it could mean a short summer.'

'We'd better tell Joharran. It might be wise to plan some major hunts soon, and lay in a good store of meat early. A short summer can mean a long, cold winter,' Willamar said.

'And we'd better pick all we can of whatever ripens before any cold weather comes,' Marthona said. 'Even before it ripens, if necessary. I remember one year many years ago when we collected very little fruit, and had to dig roots out of almost frozen ground.'

'I remember that year,' Willamar said. 'I think it was before Joconan was leader.'

'That's right. We weren't even mated yet, but we were interested,' Marthona said. 'If I remember correctly, there were several bad years around that time.'

The First had no recollection of the event. She was probably a very young child, at the time. 'What did people do?' she asked.

'At first, I don't think anyone believed the summer could be over so fast,' Willamar said. 'And then everybody started hurrying to lay in food for the winter. It was good that they did. It turned out to be a long cold season.'

'People should be warned,' the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother said.

'How can you be sure it means a short summer? It's just one snow leopard.' Jondalar said.

Ayla was thinking the same thing, but didn't say anything.

'No one has to be sure,' Marthona said. 'If people dry extra meat or berries, or store more roots or nuts early, and it doesn't turn cold, it won't hurt anything. It will get used up later. But if we don't have enough, people could go hungry, or worse.'

'I told you I wanted to talk to you, Ayla. I've been thinking about when we should start your Donier Tour. I wasn't sure if we should go early, or wait until the end of summer, maybe even after the Second Matrimonial. Now I think we should start as soon as we can. We can warn people of the possibility of a short season at the same time,' the First said. 'I'm sure the Fourteenth would be more than happy to conduct the Late Matrimonial. I don't think there will be many couples anyway. Just the few who may meet and decide this summer. I know of two couples who aren't sure if they want to mate yet, and one whose Caves are slow in coming to agreements. Do you think you can be ready to go in a few days?'

'I'm sure we can,' Ayla said. 'And if we leave, I won't have to find another place for the horses.'

'Look at the crowd,' Danella said, watching the people who had congregated in groups and pockets around the large zelandonia dwelling. She was walking with her mate, Stevadal, the leader of Sun View, and with Joharran and Proleva.

They were watching the crowd who were gathered around the large shelter, watching to see who would come out, not that there wasn't enough to see anyway. The special pole-drag with the seat that had been made for the First had been hitched to the dun-yellow mare of Jondalar's foreign woman, and Lanidar, the young hunter from the Nineteenth Cave with the deformed arm, was holding a rope attached to a halter, a device made of rope that went around the horse's head. He was also holding a lead attached to the young brown stallion, who had a similar pole-drag hitched to him, loaded with bundles. The grey foal was standing near him, as though looking to him for protection from the crowd. The wolf was beside them, sitting on his haunches, watching the entry, too.

'You were still weak and weren't here when they arrived,' Stevadal said to his mate. 'Do they always get so much attention, Joharran?'

'It's always like that when they load up,' Joharran said.

'It's one thing to have the horses around the edges of the Main Camp, and the wolf at Ayla's side; you get used to seeing the animals being friendly to a few people. But when they attach those things they pull, and load them up, when they ask the horses to work and the horses are willing, I think that's what comes as a real surprise,' Proleva said.

There was a stir of excitement as people started leaving the summer dwelling. The four of them hurried so they could make their farewells. When Jondalar and Ayla came out, Wolf stood up, but stayed where he was. They were followed by Marthona, Willamar and Folara, several Zelandonia, and then the First. Joharran was already planning a large hunt, and though Stevadal was a little reluctant to accept their warning of a short summer entirely, he was more than willing to go along on the hunt.

'Will you be coming back here, Ayla?' Danella asked, after she had brushed cheeks. 'I've hardly had time to get to know you.'

'I don't know. I think that depends on the First,' Ayla said.

Danella also brushed Jonayla's cheek with hers. The child was wide awake, held to her mother's hip with her carrying blanket, and seemed to be sensing the excitement in the air. 'I wish I'd had the chance to know this little one better, too. She is such a delight, and so pretty.'

They walked to where the horses were waiting, and took the lead ropes. 'Thank you, Lanidar,' Ayla said. 'I am grateful for your help with the horses, especially these past few days. They trust you, and feel comfortable around you.'

'I've enjoyed it. I like the horses and both of you have done so much for me. If you hadn't asked me to watch them last year, and taught me how to use the spear-thrower, and given me my first one, I never would have learned how to hunt. I'd still be following my mother around picking berries. Now I have some friends, and some status to offer Lanoga, when she's older.'

'So you still plan to mate with her,' Ayla said.

'Yes, we are making plans,' Lanidar said. He stood for a moment, as though he wanted to say more. Finally he did. 'I want to thank you and Jondalar for the summer dwelling you built for them. It made such a difference. I have stayed there a few times — well, most nights — to help her with the little ones. Her mother came back two, no three times. Tremeda always asks me for something, but not until the next morning. At night, she can hardly walk. Laramar even spent the night once. I don't think he noticed that I was there. He left in the morning right after he got up.'

'How about Bologan? Does he stay there at night and help with the younger children?' Ayla asked.

'Sometimes. He's learning to make barma, and he stays with Laramar whenever he makes it. He's also been practising with the spear-thrower. I've been showing him. Last summer, he didn't seem interested in hunting, but this year, I think after he saw what I've learned, he wants to show that he can do it.'

'Good. I'm glad to hear that. Thank you for telling me about them and yourself,' Ayla said. 'If we don't come back here after our travels, I will look forward to seeing you next year.' She brushed her cheek with his and gave him a hug.

Ayla noticed the crowd's attention was drawn to Whinney's pole-drag. The large woman who was the Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave, and the First Among Those Who Served was walking toward it. Ayla had some idea how nervous she was, but she didn't show it. She walked with an air of confidence, as though it were nothing at all. Jondalar was standing there with a smile, and held out his hand to assist her. Ayla stayed at Whinney's head, to steady her when she became aware of the added load. The woman stepped up on the lower step, and felt it give as the poles bent with her weight, but no more than the normal spring of the wood. Still holding Jondalar's hand for balance, and reassurance, she continued up, then turned around and sat down. Someone had made a very comfortable pad for the seat and backrest, and once she had seated herself, she felt better. She noticed arm supports that she could hold on to once they started moving, which also eased her concerns.

Once Zelandoni was settled, Jondalar went to Ayla, and locked both hands together to make a place for her foot. He stood beside Whinney and helped Ayla, carrying Jonayla, get up on her horse. When she was carrying her baby, it was difficult to jump up in her usual way. The man tied the long lead that was attached to Grey's small halter to the frame of the pole-drag, then went to Racer, who was beside them, and easily climbed on.

Ayla started out, leading the way out of the Main Camp of the Summer Meeting. In spite of all her encumbrances, supporting a rider and hauling a heavy load on the pole-drag, Whinney was not about to let her offspring get in front of her. She was lead mare, and in a herd, the lead mare always led the way. Ayla smiled down at him as Wolf fell in beside her.

Racer and Jondalar fell in behind them. He was glad to be bringing up the rear. It gave him the opportunity to keep an eye on Ayla and her baby, not to mention Zelandoni, to make sure nothing went wrong. Since the First was facing backward, he could smile at her, and if he got close enough, even have a conversation, or at least say a few words.

The Donier waved sedately at the receding Camp of people, and continued to watch them until they were too far to see clearly. She, too, was glad Jondalar was behind her. She was still a little nervous about riding behind the horse, and just watching the place she had been and the landscape passing by was not terribly interesting after the first few miles. It was a bumpy ride, especially when the going was a little rough, but all in all, it was not a bad way to travel, she decided.

Ayla headed back the way they had come until they came to a stream coming down from the north, near a landmark they had discussed the night before; then she stopped. Jondalar, with his long legs, had to do little more than step off the young stallion and went ahead to help Ayla, but she had already swung her leg over and slid down.

The horses were compact animals, not ponies, but wild horses in their natural state were not tall. They were, however, sturdy, robust, and exceedingly strong, with a rather thick neck capped by a short mane that stood upright. They had tough hooves that could run over any land — sharp stones, hard ground, or soft sand — without needing protection. They both walked back to Zelandoni and held out hands, which she took to help her balance as she got down.

'It's not difficult to travel like that,' the First said. 'A little bumpy, sometimes, but the seat pad eases that and the arm rests give you something to hang onto. It feels good to stand up and walk, though.' She looked around, then nodded. 'From here we travel north for a while. It's not too far, but it will be uphill and the climb is steep.'

Wolf had raced ahead, following his nose to explore the area, but returned when they stopped. He loped back into sight as they were helping Zelandoni back on the pole-drag; then they got up on their horses. They crossed the stream and followed it north, upstream on the left bank. Ayla noticed cutmarks on trees and knew the trail had been blazed by someone who had gone that way before. When she looked closely at one of the marks used to indicate the path, she could see it was just a fresh renewal of an older blaze that had darkened and was not as readily seen; there was an older mark that was partly grown over and, she thought, another even older one.

Ayla kept the horses at a slow walk so as not to tire them. Zelandoni talked to Jondalar, who felt like walking and had got off Racer and was leading the brown horse along the marked trail. It was a rigorous uphill climb and as they ascended, the landscape changed with deciduous trees that became brush that was interspersed with taller conifers. Wolf kept disappearing into the woods, then would materialise from another direction.

After about five miles, the trail led them to the entrance of a large cave high up in the hills of the watershed between The River and West River. It was well into the afternoon by the time they reached the place.

'That was much easier than walking up,' Zelandoni said as she stepped down from her seat on the pole-drag, not even waiting for help from Jondalar this time.

'When do you want to go in?' Jondalar asked, going to the entrance and looking in.

'Not until tomorrow,' Zelandoni said. 'It's a long way in. It will take all day to go in and come back.'

'Do you plan to go all the way in?'

'Oh, yes. All the way to the back.'

'Then we should probably set up camp here since we'll be staying at least two nights,' Jondalar said.

'It's still early. After we set up camp, I think I'll look and see what is growing around here,' Ayla said. 'I may find something nice for our evening meal.'

'I'm sure you will,' Jondalar said.

'Do you want to come? We can all go,' Ayla said.

'No. I've already seen some outcroppings of flint coming out of the rock walls, and I know there's some inside the cave, too,' Jondalar said. 'I'm going to take a torch and go in and look.'

'What about you, Zelandoni?' Ayla said.

'I don't think so. I want to meditate a bit about this cave, and I want to check the torches and lamps and think about how many we will need. And what else we should bring in with us,' the One Who Was First said.

'It looks like a huge cave,' Ayla said, stepping inside, peering into the darkness, then looking up at the roof.

Jondalar followed her in. 'Look, here's another piece of flint coming out of the wall, right near the entrance. I'm sure there's more deeper inside,' he said, his excitement evident from the sound of his voice. 'It would be heavy to carry very much of it out, though.'

'Is it this high all the way in,' Ayla asked the woman.

'Yes, more or less, except at the very end. This is more than a cave. It is a huge cavern — actually there are many large rooms and tunnels. There are even lower levels, but we won't need to explore them this time. Cave bears have come in here in winter; you can see their wallows and scratchings on the walls,' the First said.

'Is it big enough for the horses to walk in?' Ayla asked. 'Maybe with a pole-drag, so we could take some of Jondalar's flint out?'

'I think so,' Zelandoni said.

'We'll have to make blaze marks on our way in to make sure we can find our way out,' Jondalar said.

'I'm sure Wolf could help us get out if we get turned around,' Ayla said.

'Will he come in with us?' Zelandoni asked.

'If I ask him to,' Ayla said.

The area had obviously been used before; outside the entrance, the ground in places had been levelled, and several fireplaces set up, evident by the ashes and charcoal, and fire-burned rocks around them. They selected one to reuse, but added stones from another one around the edge, and made a spit for roasting using some forked branches wedged in with stones and greenwood sticks that would be used to impale the food. Jondalar and Ayla unhitched the horses, removed their halters, and led them to an open patch of grass nearby. They could take care of themselves, and would come at the sound of their whistles.

Then they all set up a travelling tent that was bigger than usual. They had put two together and tried it out before they left to make sure it would be comfortable for all of them. They had dried travelling food with them, plus some cooked leftovers from their early meal, but they had also brought some fresh meat from a red deer kill that had been made by Solaban and Rushemar. Leaning the poles from the pole-drags together, Jondalar and Ayla made a high tripod construction fastened at the top from which they suspended rawhide-wrapped packages of food to keep animals from getting it. To leave it in the tent would have been to invite a carnivore in to search for it.

They collected fuel for the fire, mostly deadwood from downed trees, and brush, but also the dried twigs and branches of the coniferous trees, low down on the trunks below the last living ones, dried grasses, and the dried droppings of the animals that ate grass. Ayla started a fire and banked it to make coals for later. They all had a lunch of leftovers, and even Jonayla mouthed the end of a bone after she nursed. Then they went to their separate tasks. Zelandoni began checking the bundles that had been on Racer's pole-drag, looking for torches and lamps, bags of fat for lamp fuel, and lichen, dried mushroom, and various other wick materials. Jondalar picked up his bag of flint-knapping tools, lit a torch from the fire, and went into the large cavern.

Ayla put on her haversack, the Mamutoi carrying bag that was worn over one shoulder, somewhat softer than Zelandoni backframes, though still roomy. She wore it on her right side along with her quiver with its spear-thrower and spears. She tied her baby high up on her back with the carrying blanket on the other side, but Jonayla could be easily shifted around to sit on her left hip. In front on her left side, she shoved her digging stick under the sturdy leather thong she wore around her waist, while the sheath with her knife hung down the right. Several pouches hung from her waist band, too. She wore her sling around her head, but she carried the stones for her weapon in another pouch fastened to her waist thong. Another pouch was for general things like eating dishes, a fire-starting kit, a small hammerstone, a sewing kit that included thread of various sizes, from fine twists of sinew to sturdy cord that fitted through the holes of the larger ivory needles. She also had some coils of larger cordage, and a few other odds and ends. The last object was her medicine bag.

She carried her medicine bag attached to her waist thong. The otter-skin pouch was something she seldom went anywhere without. It was very unusual; even Zelandoni had never seen one like it, although she immediately grasped that it was an object of spiritual power. It was made like the first one Iza, Ayla's Clan mother, had made for her out of a whole otter skin. Instead of cutting through the stomach in the usual way of field-dressing an animal, the throat had been cut not quite all the way around, so that the head, with the brains removed, was attached at the back by a flap of skin. The innards, including the backbone, had been carefully drawn out of the neck opening, while the feet and tail were left in place. Two red-dyed cords were threaded around the neck in opposite directions making the closure secure, and the head, dried and somewhat compressed, was used as a cover flap.

Ayla checked the quiver, which held four spear-darts and her spear-thrower; then she picked up her collecting basket, signalled Wolf to come with her, and started down the trail back the way they had come. When they were approaching the cave, she had seen and evaluated most of the vegetation that was growing along the way and had assessed its uses. It was something she had learned as a girl, and was, by now, second nature. It was an essential practice for people who lived off the land, whose survival depended on what could be hunted or gathered or found as they foraged each day. Ayla always categorised the medicinal as well as the nutritional properties of what she saw. Iza was a medicine woman, and had been determined to teach her knowledge to her adopted daughter along with her own daughter. But Uba was born with memories inherited from her mother, and she only needed to be reminded once or twice to know and understand what her mother showed or explained.

Since Ayla didn't have the Clan memories, Iza discovered it was much more difficult to train her. She had to teach her by rote; only by constant repetition could the girl of the Others be made to remember. But then Ayla surprised Iza because once she did learn, she could think about the medicine she had been taught in a new way. For example, if one medicinal plant wasn't available, she was quick to think of a substitute, or a combination of medicines that would bring together similar properties or actions. She was also very good at diagnosis, at being able to determine what was wrong when someone came with a vague complaint. Although she couldn't explain it, it gave Iza a sense of the differences in the way the Clan and the Others thought.

Many in Brun's clan believed that the girl of the Others who lived in their midst wasn't very smart because she couldn't remember as quickly or as well as any of them. Iza had realised that she wasn't less intelligent, but that she thought differently, in another way. Ayla had come to understand it as well. When people of the Others would make comments about the people of the Clan being none too bright, she would try to explain that they were not less intelligent, but differently intelligent.

Ayla walked back along the trail to a place she distinctly remembered, where the trail through the woods they had been following went over a slight rise and opened out to a field of low-growing grass and brush. She had noticed it when they passed by before, and as she approached it again, she detected the delicious fragrance of ripe strawberries. She untied the carrying blanket and spread it out on the ground, then put Jonayla in the middle of it. She picked a tiny berry, squashed it a little to bring out the sweet juice and put it in her baby's mouth. Jonayla's expression of surprise and curiosity made Ayla smile. She put a few in her own mouth, gave another to her baby, then looked around to see what she could use to bring some back to camp.

She spied a stand of birch trees nearby and signalled Wolf to watch Jonayla while she went to examine them. When she reached the trees, she was glad to see that some of the thin bark had started to peel. She pulled several wide strips off and brought them back with her. From the sheath that was attached to her waistband she withdrew a new knife, which Jondalar had recently given to her. It was made of a flint blade he had knapped and inserted into a beautiful handle of yellowing old ivory shaped by Solaban with some carvings of horses done by Marsheval. She cut the birch bark into symmetrical pieces, then scored them to make it easier to fold into two small containers with lids. The berries were so tiny, it took a long time to pick enough to give three people a reasonable taste, but the flavour of the wild strawberries was so luscious, it was worth it. From the pouch in which she carried her personal drinking cup and bowl, she always carried a few other items, including coils of twine. Cordage of various sizes was always useful. She used some to tie the birch-bark containers together, then put them in her gathering basket.

Jonayla had fallen asleep, and Ayla covered her with a corner of the soft buckskin carrying blanket, which was getting a little tattered at that end. Wolf was lying beside her, his eyes half closed. When Ayla looked over at him, he thumped his tail on the ground, but stayed close to the newest member of his pack, whom he adored. Ayla got up, picked up the gathering basket, and walked across the grassy field toward the woods on the fringe.

The first thing she saw in a hedge bank were the star-like whorls of the narrow leaves of cleavers, growing abundantly up and through other plants, aided by the tiny hooked bristles that covered them. She pulled out several of the long, trailing stems by the roots, bunching them up together easily because the bristles made them stick together. In that state they could be used as a strainer and for that quality alone they were useful, but they had many other properties, both nutritional and medicinal. The young leaves made a pleasant spring green, the roasted seeds an interesting dark beverage. The pounded herb mixed with fat into an ointment was helpful for women whose breasts were swollen with caked milk.

She was drawn to a sunny dry, grassy place, detected a delightful aromatic fragrance, and looked for the plant that liked to grow there. She quickly found hyssop. It was one of the first plants Iza had taught her about and she remembered the occasion well. It was a woody little shrub that grew something more than a foot high, with narrow evergreen leaves, small and dark green, crowding together along the branching stems. The intense blue flowers, circling the stem among the upper leaves on long spikes, had just started to appear and several bees were buzzing around them. She wondered where the hive was, since honey flavoured with hyssop was especially tasty.

She picked several of the stalks, planning to use the flowers for tea, which was not only delicious, but especially good for coughs, hoarseness, and deep chest conditions. The leaves when bruised were also good for relieving cuts and burns, and for reducing bruises. Drinking the tea of the leaves and soaking the limbs in a bath of it were a good treatment for rheumatism. Thinking of that brought a sudden thought of Creb, which made her smile even as it brought a memory of sadness. One of the other medicine women at the Clan Gathering had explained that she also used hyssop for the swelling of the legs caused by retaining too much fluid. Ayla glanced up and saw Wolf still lying beside her sleeping baby, then turned and went more deeply into the woods.

On a shady bank near some spruce trees Ayla spied a patch of woodruff, a little plant about ten inches high with leaves growing in circles, similar to cleavers, but with a weak stem. She bent down on her knees to carefully pick the plant with its leaves and tiny white four-petalled flowers. It had its own delicious scent and made a tasty tea, and Ayla knew the fragrance would grow stronger when it was dried. The leaves could be used for wounds, and when boiled they were good for stomachaches and other internal disorders. It was useful to disguise the sometimes unpleasant smell of other medicines, but she also liked to spread it around her dwelling, and to stuff pillows with it because of its natural perfume.

Not far away she saw another familiar plant that liked shady banks in woods, this one close to two feet high, wood avens. The toothed leaves, shaped somewhat like wide feathers and covered with small hairs, were sparsely scattered along its wiry stems, which branched slightly. The leaves were not uniform in size or shape, depending upon their position on the stem. On the lower branches, the leaves grew on long stalks and had irregular spaces between the leaflets, with the terminal one large and rounder. The intermediate pairs were smaller and somewhat different in shape and size. The higher-up leaves were three-fingered, the lower ones rounder and the upper narrower. The flowers, which rather resembled buttercups, had five bright-yellow petals with green sepals between, and seemed too small for such a tall plant. The fruits, which appeared together with the flowers, were more conspicuous and ripened into the small, bristly heads of dark-red burrs.

But Ayla dug down for the rhizome from which the plant grew. She wanted the small, wiry rootlets that had the scent and flavour of cloves. She knew they were good for many things, for stomach problems, including diarrhoea, for sore throat, fever, and the stuffiness and mucus of a cold, even for bad breath, but she especially liked to use them as a pleasant, mildly spicy, clove-like seasoning for food.

She saw plants some distance away that she thought at first were a patch of violets, but which on closer inspection turned out to be ground ivy. The flowers were different in shape and grew from the base of leaves that grew in whorls of three or four around the stem. The kidney-shaped leaves with rounded teeth and a network of veins grew opposite each other on long stalks on alternate sides of square stems and stayed green all year, but the colour varied from bright to dark green. She knew ground ivy was strongly aromatic and sniffed it to confirm the identity. She had made a thick infusion along with licorice root for coughs, and Iza had used it to soothe inflamed eyes. One Mamut at the Mamutoi Summer Meeting had recommended ground ivy for humming noises in the ears, and for wounds.

The damp ground led to a marshy area and a small stream, and Ayla was delighted to see an extensive stand of cattails, a tall reed-like plant six feet or more in height and among the most useful of all plants. In spring, the young shoots of new roots could be pulled loose from the rootstalk, exposing a tender young core; the new shoots and the core could be eaten raw or cooked lightly. Summer was the season for the green flower stalks growing at the top of the tall stems, which when boiled and gnawed off the stem were deliciously edible. Later they would turn into brown cattails, and the long pollen spike above each cattail would ripen, making the protein-rich yellow pollen available for harvesting. Then the cattail would burst into tufts of white down, which could be used as stuffing for pillows, pads, or diapers, or as tinder for starting fires. Summer was also the season when the tender white sprouts that represented next year's plant growth were growing out of the thick underground rhizome, and with such a large concentration, gathering a few would not harm next year's crop.

The fibrous rootstalk was available all year, even in winter if the ground wasn't frozen or covered with snow. A white, starchy flour could be extracted by pounding it in a shallow, wide bark container of water so that the heavier flour would settle to the bottom while the fibres floated, or the rhizome could be dried and later pounded to remove the fibres, leaving the dry flour. The long, narrow leaves could be woven into mats for sitting upon or could be turned into envelope-like pouches, or waterproof panels, several of which could be made into a temporary shelter, or into baskets or cooking bags that could be filled with roots, stalks, leaves, or fruits, lowered into boiling water, and easily retrieved, and if they cooked long enough, the leaves could also be eaten. The dried stalk from the previous year's growth could be used as a fire drill when spun between the palms against a suitable platform to make fire.

Ayla put her gathering basket down on dry ground, pulled her digging stick, which was made from an antler of a red deer, out of her waistband, and waded into the marsh. With the stick and her hands she dug down through the mud about four inches and pulled out the long rootstalks of several plants. The rest of the plant came with, including the large sprouts attached to the rhizome, and the six-inch-long, nearly inch-thick, cattail-shaped green flower-seed heads, both of which she was planning to cook for their evening meal. She wrapped some cordage around the long cattail stalks, making a bundle that was more easily managed, and headed back to the open field.

She passed an ash tree along the way, and she recalled how prevalent they had been near the home of the Sharamudoi, although there were a few in Wood Valley. She thought about preparing the ash keys the way the Sharamudoi did, but the winged fruit had to be picked when very young, crisp but not stringy, and these were already past their prime. The tree had many medicinal uses, though.

When she returned to the meadow, she was immediately alarmed. Wolf was standing near her baby, staring at some high grass, making a low, menacing growl. Was something wrong?