The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 13

She hurried to find out. When she reached them, she saw that Jonayla was awake and oblivious to the danger the canine seemed to sense, but she had somehow turned herself over from her back to her stomach and was holding herself up on her arms looking around.

Ayla couldn't see what Wolf was looking at, but she heard movement and snuffling sounds. She put down her collecting basket and the bundle of cattails, picked up her baby, and put her on her back with the carrying blanket. Then she loosened the ties and reached into the special pouch for a couple of stones as she pulled her sling off her head. She couldn't see what was there, no point in using a spear if there was nothing to aim at, but a stone flung hard in the general direction might scare it off.

She cast one stone, followed quickly by another. The second hit something with a thump and a yelp. She heard something moving in the grass. Wolf was straining forward, whining softly, eager to go.

'Go ahead, Wolf,' she said, making the signal at the same time.

Wolf dashed ahead while Ayla quickly wrapped her sling back around her head, then took her spear-thrower out of its holder, and reached for a spear as she followed behind.

When Ayla reached Wolf, he was facing off with an animal the size of a bear cub, but much more fierce. The dark brown fur with a lighter band that ran along its flanks to the upperside of its bushy tail was the distinctive marking of a wolverine. She had dealt with this largest of the weasel family before, and had seen them drive bigger four-legged hunters away from their own kills. They were nasty, vicious, and fearless predators that often hunted and killed animals much larger than themselves. They could eat more than looked possible for a creature their size, which probably accounted for their other name, 'glutton', yet sometimes, it seemed, they slaughtered for pleasure, not hunger, leaving behind what they killed. Wolf was more than ready to defend her and Jonayla, but in any fight a wolverine could inflict serious injury, or worse, if not on a pack, certainly on a solitary wolf. But he wasn't a lone wolf; Ayla was part of Wolf's pack.

With cool deliberation, she fitted a spear onto her thrower, and without hesitation hurled it at the animal, but Jonayla made a crying sound that alerted the wolverine. The creature had seen the woman's swift movement at the last moment, and started to scurry away. It might well have dashed out of her line of fire entirely if it hadn't been distracted by having to watch the wolf. As it was, it moved enough that her spear missed its mark slightly. Though the animal was hurt and bleeding, the sharp tip had only penetrated the hind quarters, which was not immediately fatal. The flint point of her spear was attached to a short, tapering length of wood that fit into the front of a longer shaft, and had separated from the long end of the spear as it was supposed to.

The wolverine ran for cover in the wooded underbrush with the point still embedded in him. Ayla could not leave the injured animal. Though she thought it was mortally wounded, she needed to finish it. It was probably hurting and she didn't want anything to hurt unnecessarily. Besides, wolverines were bad enough under normal circumstances — who knew what kind of damage it might inflict if it was frantic with pain, perhaps to their own camp, which wasn't so far away. In addition, she wanted to retrieve her shaped flint point, to see if it was was still usable. And she wanted the fur. She took out another spear, noting where the shaft of the first lay so she could come back for it.

'Find him, Wolf!' she signalled without saying the words, and followed behind.

Wolf, running in front, quickly sniffed out the animal. Not far ahead, Ayla found the canine snarling threateningly at a mass of dark brown fur snarling back from within a coppice of bushes.

Ayla quickly studied the position of the animal, then flung her second spear, hard. It pierced deeply, going all the way through the neck. A spurt of blood declared that an artery was severed. The wolverine stopped snarling and dropped to the ground.

Ayla disengaged the second spear shaft and considered dragging the wolverine back by its tail, but the nap of the fur lay in the other direction and pulling with the grain rather than against it would make it easier to tow the animal across the grass. Then she noticed more wood avens with their strong, wiry stems growing nearby, and yanked them out by the roots. She wrapped the stems around the head and jaws, and hauled the wolverine back to the clearing, stopping to pick up her first spear shaft on the way.

When she reached the place where she had left her gathering basket, Ayla was shaking. She dropped the animal a few feet away, loosened the carrying blanket, and shifted Jonayla around to the front. She hugged her daughter as tears rolled down her cheeks, finally letting her fear and anger out. She was sure the wolverine had been after her baby.

Even with Wolf on guard — and she knew he would have fought to his death for her — the large, vicious weasel could have hurt the healthy young canine, and attacked her child. There were very few animals that would go up against a wolf, especially one as big as Wolf. Most large cats would have backed off, or just passed them by, and those were the predators that were most on her mind. That was the only reason she had left Jonayla, not wanting to disturb her sleeping infant while she went to gather a few greens. After all, Wolf was watching her. Jonayla wasn't out of her sight more than a few moments, just when she was in the marsh getting the cattails. But she hadn't considered a wolverine. She shook her head. There was always more than one kind of predator around.

She nursed the baby for a while, as much to comfort herself as the child, and praised Wolf, petting him with her other hand and talking to him.

'Right now I have to skin out that wolverine. I would rather have killed something we could eat, though I suppose you could eat him, Wolf, but I do want that fur. It's the one thing wolverines are good for. They are mean and vicious and steal food from traps and when meat is drying, even if people are around. If they get inside a shelter, they destroy everything they can and make a big stink, but their fur makes the best trim around a winter hood. Ice doesn't cling to it when you breathe. I think I'll make a hood for Jonayla, and a new one for me, and maybe Jondalar, too. But you don't need one, Wolf. Ice doesn't cling much to your fur, either. Besides, you'd look funny with wolverine fur around your head.'

Ayla recalled the wolverine that had been bothering the women of Brun's clan when they were cutting up an animal from a hunt. It kept dashing into their midst and stealing the freshly cut strips of meat they had set out to dry on cords stretched close to the ground. Even when they threw stones, it wasn't deterred for long. Finally some of the men had to go after it. That incident had given her one of the reasons she had used to rationalise her decision when she resolved she would teach herself to hunt with the sling she had secretly learned to use.

Ayla put her baby down on the soft buckskin carrying blanket again, this time on her stomach, since she seemed to like pushing up and looking around. Then she dragged the wolverine carcass a few more paces away and turned it on its back. First she cut out the two flint points that were still embedded in the animal. The one stuck in the hindquarters was still good — she would only need to wash off the blood — but the one she had thrown with such force that it went clear through the neck had a broken tip. She could resharpen it and use it for a knife if not a spear point, but Jondalar could do it better, she thought.

With the new knife he had recently given her, she turned to the wolverine. Starting at the anus, she cut away his genital organs and made a deft cut up toward the stomach but stopped short of the ventral scent gland. One of the ways wolverines marked their territory was to straddle low logs or bushes and rub the strong-smelling material that issued from the gland on them. They also marked territory with urine and faeces, but it was the gland that could ruin the fur. It was almost impossible to get the smell out and unbearable to wear the fur around the face if it was contaminated by the gland whose smell was almost as strong as a skunk's.

Carefully pulling the skin away to avoid cutting through the stomach lining and breaking into the intestines, she cut all the way around the gland, then gingerly feeling with her hand, reached under it with the knife and cut it free. She was going to just toss it toward the woods, then realised that Wolf would likely pick up the odour and go after it, and she didn't want him smelling terrible either. She cautiously picked it up by the edge of the skin and walked back toward the woods where she had killed the creature. There was a fork in a tree above her head and she laid the gland on top of a branch. When she came back, she finished cutting through the skin, making a slit up the stomach to the throat.

Next she went back to where she started, at the anus, and began to slice through both skin and flesh. When she got to the pelvic bone, she felt for the ridge that was between the left and right sides, and cut through the muscle down to the bone. Then forcing the legs apart and again feeling for just the right spot, she exerted more pressure, and split the bone, cutting the stomach membrane just a bit to relieve tension. Now the bowel could be removed with the rest of the innards after she finished cutting the opening. Once this delicate task was accomplished cleanly, she cut the meat up to the breastbone, being careful not to penetrate the intestines.

Cutting through the breastbone would be somewhat more difficult, and would require more than just her stone knife. She needed a hammer. She knew she had a small hammerstone in the same pouch in which she kept her bowl and cup, but she looked around first to see if she could find something else to use. She should have taken the rounded stone out before she started the task of field-dressing the wolverine, but she had been a little disconcerted and forgot. She had some blood on her hands and didn't want to reach into her pouch and leave wolverine blood inside. She saw a stone sticking out of the ground and, using her digging stick, tried to pry it out, but it turned out to be bigger than it seemed. Finally, she wiped her hand on the grass and removed the hammerstone from her pouch.

But she needed more than a stone. If she just hit the back of her new flint knife with a hammerstone, it would chip. She needed something to soften the blow. Then she remembered that a corner of the baby's carrying blanket was getting tattered. She got up and walked back to where the baby was kicking her feet and trying to reach for Wolf. Ayla smiled at her then cut off a piece of soft leather from the ragged corner. When she got back to her chore, she placed the blade of her knife lengthwise along the sternum, put the folded-up soft leather over the back of the blade, then picked up the hammerstone and hit the blade. The knife made a cut, but did not split the bone. She hit it again, and then a third time before she felt the bone give way. Once the breastbone was split open, she continued to cut up to the throat to free the windpipe.

She stretched the rib cage apart, then with her knife she cut the diaphragm, which separated the chest from the stomach, free from the walls. She got a good hold on the slippery windpipe and began to pull out the viscera, using her knife to free them from the backbone. The whole connected package of internal organs fell out on the ground. She turned the wolverine over to let it drain. It was now field dressed.

The process was essentially the same for any animal, small or large. If it was an animal that was intended for food, the next step would be to cool it as quickly as possible, by skinning it, rinsing it with cool water, and if it had been winter, laying it on snow. Many of the internal organs of herbivorous animals like bison or aurochs or any of the various deer, or mammoth or rhinoceros, were edible and quite tasty — the liver, the heart, the kidneys — and some parts were usable. The brains were almost always used for tanning the hides. The intestines could be cleaned out and stuffed with rendered fat, or cut-up pieces of meat, sometimes mixed with blood. Well-washed stomachs and bladders made excellent waterbags, and were good containers for other liquids. They also made effective cooking utensils. Cooking could also be done in a fresh skin spread out and stuffed loosely into a hole dug in the ground, adding water, then boiling it with heated rocks. When used for cooking, stomachs, hides, and all organic materials shrank some because they also cooked, so it was never a good idea to fill them too full of liquid.

Though she knew some people did, she never ate the meat of carnivores. The clan who raised her didn't like to eat animals that ate meat, and Ayla found it distasteful the few times she had tried it. She thought that if she was really hungry, she might be able to stomach it, but she was sure she'd have to be starving. These days, she didn't even like horsemeat, though it was the favourite of many people. She knew it was because she felt so close to her horses.

It was time to gather up everything and head back to camp. She stashed the spear shafts in the special quiver, along with her spear-thrower, and put the points she had retrieved into the cavity of the wolverine. She put Jonayla on her back with the carrying blanket, then picked up her gathering basket, and tucked the bundled long stems of cattails under one arm. Then grabbing the avens stems still tied to the head of the wolverine, she started out dragging it behind her. She left its innards where they had fallen; one or more of the Mother's creatures would come along and eat them.

When she walked into their camp, both Jondalar and Zelandoni gawked for a moment. 'It's looks like you've been busy,' Zelandoni said.

'I didn't think you were going hunting,' Jondalar said, walking toward her to relieve her of some of her burdens, 'especially for a wolverine.'

'I didn't plan to,' Ayla said, then told him what had happened.

'I wondered why you were taking your weapons with you just to gather some growing things,' Zelandoni said. 'Now I know.'

'Usually women go out in a group. They talk and laugh and sing, and make a lot of noise,' Ayla said. 'It can be fun, but it also warns animals away.'

'I hadn't thought of it that way,' Jondalar said, 'but you're right. Several women together probably would keep most animals away.'

'We always tell young women whenever they leave their homes, to visit, or to pick berries, or gather wood, or whatever, to go with someone,' Zelandoni said. 'We wouldn't have to tell them to talk and laugh, and make noise. That happens whenever they get together, and it is a measure of safety.'

'In the Clan, people don't talk as much, and they don't laugh, but they make rhythms as they walk by banging digging sticks or rocks together,' Ayla said, 'and sometimes shouting and making other loud noises along with the rhythms. It's not singing, but it feels something like music when you do it.'

Jondalar and Zelandoni looked at each other, at a loss for words. Every so often Ayla would make a comment that gave them an insight into her life when she was young and living with the Clan, and how dissimilar her childhood had been from theirs, or anyone they knew. It also gave them an insight into how much the people of the Clan were like themselves — and how much different.

'I want that wolverine fur, Jondalar. I could make a new lining around the face of a hood for you with it, and for me and Jonayla, too, but I need to skin it right away. Would you watch her?' Ayla asked.

'I'll do better than that. I'll help you with it, and we can both keep an eye on her,' Jondalar said.

'Why don't you both work on that animal, and I'll watch the baby,' Zelandoni said. 'It's not like I haven't cared for babies before. And Wolf will help me,' she added, looking at the large, usually dangerous animal, 'won't you, Wolf?'

Ayla dragged the wolverine to a clearing some distance beyond the boundaries of their camp; she didn't want to invite any passing scavengers into their living area. Then she took her salvaged flint points out of its belly cavity.

'Only one has to be reworked,' she said, giving them to Jondalar. 'The first spear went into his hind quarters. He saw me make the throw and moved fast. Then Wolf chased him and cornered him in some bushes. I threw the second spear hard, harder than I needed to. That's why the tip broke, but I knew he was going after Jonayla, and I was angry.'

'I'm sure you were. I would have been, too. I think my day was much less exciting than yours,' Jondalar said as they began skinning the wolverine. He made a cut through the pelt down the left hind leg to the belly cut Ayla had made earlier.

'Did you find flint in the cave today?' Ayla asked, making a similar cut down the left foreleg.

'There's a lot there. It's not the finest quality, but it's serviceable, especially for practice,' Jondalar said. 'Do you remember Matagan? The boy who was gored in the leg by the rhino last year? The one whose leg you fixed?'

'Yes. I didn't get a chance to talk to him, but I saw him. He walks with a limp, but he seems to get around fine,' she said, making a cut in the right front leg, while Jondalar worked on the right hind leg.

'I talked to him and to his mother and her mate, and some others from their cave. If it's agreeable to Joharran and the Cave — and I can't imagine why anyone would object — he's going to come and live at the Ninth Cave at the end of summer. I'm going to show him how to knap flint, and see if he has any talent or inclination for it,' Jondalar said. Then, looking up, 'Do you want to save the feet?'

'Those are sharp claws, but I don't know what I'd use them for,' Ayla said.

'You can always trade them. I'm sure they'd make good decorations, for a necklace, or sewn on a tunic. The teeth, too, for that matter. And what do you want to do with this gorgeous tail?' Jondalar said.

'I think I'll keep the tail along with the pelt,' Ayla said, 'but I may trade the claws and the teeth … or maybe I could use a claw as a hole-maker.'

They cut off the feet, breaking through the joints and cutting the tendons, then pulled the furry skin off the right side to the backbone, using their hands to tear it off more than their knives. They balled up fists to break through the membrane between the body and the hide as they got to the meatier part of the legs. Then they turned it over and started on the left side.

Talking as they worked, they continued separating the hide from the carcass by pulling and tearing, wanting to make as few cuts in the skin as possible. 'Where will Matagan stay? Does he have any family at the Ninth Cave?' Ayla asked.

'No, he doesn't. We haven't decided yet where he should stay.'

'He'll miss his home, especially at first. We have a lot of room, Jondalar; he could stay with us,' Ayla said.

'I was thinking of that, and was going to ask if you'd mind. We'd have to rearrange some things, give him his own sleeping space, but that might be the best place for him. I could work with him, watch what he does, see how much interest he shows. No point in making him work at it if he doesn't like it, but I wouldn't mind having an apprentice,' Jondalar said. 'And with his bad leg, it would be a good skill for him to learn.'

They had to use their knives more to release the skin from the backbone and around the shoulders, where it was tight and the membrane between the meat and the skin was not as defined. Then they had to remove the head. With Jondalar holding the animal taut, Ayla found where the head met the neck and swivelled easily, then cut through the meat to the bone. With a twist, a quick break, and a cut through membranes and tendons, the head was off, and the pelt was free.

Jondalar held up the luxuriant hide, and they admired the thick, beautiful fur. With his help, skinning the wolverine had been short work. Ayla recalled the first time that he had helped her cut up a kill, when they were living in the valley where she found her horse, and he was still recovering from being mauled by the lion. It had come as a surprise to her not only that he was willing, but that he was able. Men of the Clan didn't do that kind of work, they didn't have the memories for it, and Ayla still forgot sometimes that Jondalar could help her with tasks that in the Clan had been women's work. She was accustomed to doing it herself and seldom asked for assistance, but she was as grateful now as she had been then for his help.

'I'll give this meat to Wolf,' Ayla said, looking down at what was left of the wolverine.

'I was wondering what you were going to do with it,' Jondalar said.

'I'll wrap the hide up now, with the head inside, and make us an evening meal. Maybe tonight I can start scraping the skin,' Ayla said.

'Do you have to start on it tonight?' Jondalar said.

'I'll need the brains for softening it, and they'll go bad fast if I don't start using them soon. This is such beautiful fur, I don't want to spoil it, especially if it is going to be as cold next winter as Marthona thinks it will.'

They started to leave, but Ayla spied a patch of plants with coarsely toothed heart-shaped leaves growing about three feet tall in the rich, moist soil along the stream they were using for water. 'Before we go back to camp, I want to collect some of those stinging nettles,' Ayla said. 'They'll be good to eat tonight.'

'They sting,' Jondalar said.

'Once they are cooked, they don't sting, and they taste good,' Ayla said.

'I know, but I wonder how people first thought of cooking nettles for food? Why would they even think of eating them?' Jondalar said.

'I don't know if we'll ever find out, but I have to find something to pick them with. Some big leaves to cover the hands so the nettles won't sting me.' She looked around, then noticed a tall, stiff plant with showy thistle-like purple flower heads, and big heart-shaped soft, downy leaves growing from the ground around the stems. 'There's some burdock. Those leaves feel like fine buckskin, they'll work.'

'These strawberries are delicious,' Zelandoni said. 'A perfect ending to a wonderful meal. Thank you, Ayla.'

'I didn't do much. The roast came from the hind quarters of a red deer that Solaban and Rushemar gave me before we left. I just made a stone oven and roasted it, and cooked up some cattails and greens.'

Zelandoni had watched Ayla dig a hole in the ground with a small shoulder bone that had been shaped and sharpened at one end and used like a trowel. To remove the loose dirt, she transferred it by small shovelfuls onto an old hide; then gathering the ends together, she hauled the hide away. She lined the hole with stones, leaving a space not much bigger than the meat, then built a fire in it until the rocks were hot. From her medicine bag, she took out a pouch and sprinkled some of the contents on the meat; some plants could be both medicinal and flavourful herbs. Then she added some of the tiny rootlets growing out of the wood avens rhizome, which tasted like cloves, along with hyssop and woodruff.

She wrapped the red deer roast in the burdock leaves. Then she covered the hot coals in the bottom of the hole with a layer of dirt so they wouldn't burn the meat, and dropped the leaf-wrapped roast in the little oven. She piled wet grasses on top and more leaves, and covered it all with more dirt to make it airtight. She topped it with a large, flat stone that she had also heated over a fire, and let the roast cook slowly in the residual heat and its own steam.

'It wasn't just cooked meat,' Zelandoni insisted. 'It was very tender and had a flavour that I wasn't familiar with, but it tasted very good. Where did you learn to cook like that?'

'From Iza. She was the medicine woman of Brun's clan, but she knew more than the healing uses of plants; she knew how they tasted,' Ayla said.

'That's exactly how I felt when I first tasted Ayla's cooking,' Jondalar said. 'The flavours were unfamiliar, but the food was delicious. I've got accustomed to it now.'

'It was also a smart idea to make those little cooking bags out of the cattail leaves, then putting the nettle greens and the green cattail tops and shoots in them before putting them in the boiling water. It was so easy to pull them out. You didn't have to fish around in the bottom of the pot,' the First said. 'I'm going to use that idea for making decoctions and tisanes.' She saw a frown of puzzlement on Jondalar's face and added a clarification. 'Cooking medicines and steeping teas.'

'I learned that at the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. A woman there was cooking that way, and many of the other women started doing it too,' Ayla said.

'I also liked the way you put a little fat on top of the hot flat stone and cooked those cattail flour cakes on it. You put something in them as well, I noticed. What is in that pouch that you use?' the Woman Who Was First asked.

'The ashes of coltsfoot leaves,' Ayla said. 'They have a salty flavour, especially if you dry them first and then burn them. I like to use sea salt, when I can get it. The Mamutoi traded for it. The Losadunai live near a mountain made of salt, and they mine it. They gave me some before we left, and I still had some when we arrived here, but it's gone now, so I use the ashes of coltsfoot leaves made the way Nezzie did. I used coltsfoot before, but not the ashes.'

'You have learned a lot from all your travels, and you have many talents, Ayla. I didn't realise cooking was one of them, but you are very good at it.' She didn't quite know what to say. She didn't consider cooking a talent. It was just something you did. She still didn't feel comfortable with direct praise and didn't know if she would ever be, so she didn't respond to it. 'Big, flat rocks like that are hard to find. I think I'll keep that one. Since Racer is pulling a pole-drag, I can pack it and won't have to carry it,' Ayla said. 'Would anyone like some tea?'

'What kind are you making?' Jondalar said.

'I thought I'd start with the cooking water that was used for the nettles and cattails, and add some hyssop,' Ayla said, 'and maybe woodruff.'

'That ought to be interesting,' Zelandoni said.

'The water is still warm. It won't take much to heat it up again,' she said, putting cooking stones in the fire again.

Then she started putting things away. She carried aurochs fat in a cleaned intestine, and had used some to cook with. To close it, she twisted the end of the intestine, then put it in the stiff rawhide container that held meats and fats. The fat had been rendered in simmering water to a smooth white tallow and was used both for cooking and for light when it got dark, and on this trip when going into a cave. The food left over from their evening meal was wrapped in large leaves, tied with cord, and hung from the tripod of tall poles along with the meat container.

Tallow was the fuel that was put in the shallow stone lamps. Wicks could be any of a number of absorbent materials. When lit in the absolute dark of a cave, the light shed by the lamps was much brighter than seemed possible. They would be using them in the morning when they went into the nearby cave.

'I'm going to the river to clean our bowls. Would you like me to clean yours, too, Zelandoni?' Ayla asked as she added hot stones to the liquid, watched it boil up in a hiss of steam, then added whole fresh hyssop plants.

'Yes, that would be nice.'

When she returned she found her cup filled with hot tea, and Jondalar holding Jonayla, making her laugh with funny sounds and faces. 'I think she's hungry,' he said.

'She usually is,' Ayla said, smiling as she took the child and settled down near the campfire, with her cup of hot tea nearby.

Jondalar and Zelandoni had been talking before the baby started fussing, apparently about his mother, and picked up the conversation once Jonayla was content and quiet again.

'I didn't know Marthona all that well when I first became a Zelandoni, though there were always stories about her, stories of her great love for Dalanar,' the First said. 'Once I became the acolyte of the Zelandoni before me, she told me about the relationships of the woman who was known for her competent leadership of the Ninth Cave so I would understand the situation.

'Her first man, Joconan, had been a powerful leader and she learned a great deal from him, but in the beginning, I was told, she didn't so much love him as admire and respect him. I had the feeling that she almost worshipped him, but that isn't the way Zelandoni put it. She said Marthona worked very hard to please him. He was older, and she was his beautiful young woman, though he had been ready to take on two women at the time, perhaps even more. He hadn't chosen to mate before, and didn't want to wait long to have a family once he decided to have one. More than one mate would give him more assurance that there would be children born to his hearth.

'But Marthona was soon pregnant with Joharran, and when she gave birth to a son, Joconan wasn't in such a hurry anymore. Besides, not long after her son was born, Joconan started to get sick. It wasn't obvious at first and he kept it to himself. Soon he discovered that your mother was more than beautiful, Jondalar; she was also intelligent. She found her own strength in helping him. As he grew weaker, she took on more and more of his responsibilities as leader, and did it so well that when he died, the people of her Cave wanted her to stay on as leader.'

'What kind of man was Joconan? You said he was powerful. I think Joharran is a powerful leader. He usually manages to persuade most people to agree with him and do what he wants,' Jondalar said. Ayla was fascinated. She had always wanted to know more about Marthona, but she was not a woman to speak much about herself.

'Joharran is a good leader, but not powerful in the same way that Joconan was. He's more like Marthona than her mate. Joconan could be daunting sometimes. He had a very commanding presence. People found it very easy to go along with him, and difficult to oppose him. I think some people were afraid to disagree with him, though he never threatened anyone, that I was aware of. Some people used to say he was the Mother's chosen. People, young men in particular, liked to be around him, and young women threw themselves at him. They say almost all young women wore fringes then, trying to snare him. It's no wonder he waited until he was older before he mated,' Zelandoni said.

'Do you think fringes really help a woman snare a man?' Ayla asked.

'I think it depends on the man,' the Donier said. 'Some people think that when a woman wears a fringe, it suggests her pubic hair, and that she is willing to expose it. If a man is easily excited, or interested in a particular woman, a fringe can arouse him and he'll follow her around until she decides to capture him. But a man like Joconan knew his own mind, and I don't think he was interested in a woman who felt she needed to wear a fringe to attract a man. It was too obvious. Marthona never wore fringes and she never lacked for attention. When Joconan decided he wanted her and was willing to take the young woman from the distant Cave as well, since they were like sisters, they all agreed. It was the Zelandoni who objected to the double mating. He had promised that the visitor would be returned to her people after she learned the skills to be a Zelandoni.'

Ayla knew the Donier was a good Storyteller, and she found herself totally enraptured, partly by the Storytelling, but more by the story that was being told.

'Joconan was a strong leader. It was under his leadership that the Ninth Cave grew so large. The cave always had the size to accommodate more people than usual, but not many leaders were willing to be responsible for so many,' Zelandoni said. 'When he died, Marthona was overcome with grief. I think for a time she wanted to follow him to the next world, but she had a child, and Joconan left a big hole in the community. It needed to be filled.

'People started coming to her when they needed the kind of help that a leader provides. Things like resolving disputes, organising visits to other Caves and travels to Summer Meetings, planning hunts and deciding how much each hunter needed to share with the Cave, both immediately and for the next winter. After Joconan got sick, they got used to coming to Marthona, and she to handling the problems. Their need and her son may be what kept her going. After a while, she became the acknowledged leader, and eventually her grief eased, but she told the Zelandoni before me that she didn't think she would ever mate again. Then Dalanar walked into the Ninth Cave.'

'Everyone says that he was the great love of her life,' Jondalar said.

'Dalanar was the great love of her life. For him, Marthona could almost have given up her leadership, but not quite. She felt they needed her. And though he loved her as much as she loved him, after a while, he needed something of his own. He wasn't content to sit in her shadow. Unlike you, Jondalar, his skill in working with the stone wasn't enough.'

'But he is one of the most skilled I have ever met. His work is known by everyone, and they all acknowledge him as the best. The only flint-knapper I've ever known who can compare with him is Wymez, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi. I always wished the two of them could meet,' Jondalar said.

'Perhaps, in a sense they have, through you,' the large woman said. 'Jondalar, you must know that if you aren't already, you will soon be the most renowned flint-knapper of the Zelandonii. Dalanar is a skilled tool-maker, there's no question of that, but he's Lanzadonii now. Anyway, his real skill was always people. He is happy now. He has founded his own Cave, his own people, and though in a way he will always be Zelandonii, his Lanzadonii will someday come into their own.

'And you are the son of his heart, as well as the son of his hearth, Jondalar. He's proud of you. He loves Jerika's daughter, Joplaya, too. He's proud of you both. Although in a hidden place in his heart, he might always love Marthona, he adores Jerika. I think he loves that she looks so exotic, and that she is so little, yet so fierce. That's part of what attracts him. He's so big that next to him she looks half his size, she looks delicate, but she is more than a match for him. She has no desire to be leader; she's happy to let him do it, although I have no doubt that she could. Her strength of will and character are formidable.'

'You are certainly right about that, Zelandoni!' he said, with a laugh, one of his big, lusty warm laughs, its spontaneous enthusiasm all the more astonishing because it was unexpected. Jondalar was a serious man, and though he smiled easily, he seldom laughed out loud. When he did, the unreserved exuberance of it came as a surprise.

'Dalanar found someone after he and Marthona severed the knot, but many doubted that she would ever find a man to replace him, would ever love another man in the same way, and she didn't, but she found Willamar. Her love for him is not less than her love for Dalanar, but of a different character, just as her love for Dalanar was not the same as her love for Joconan. Willamar also has a skill with people — that's true of all the men in her life — but he satisfies it as the Trade Master, travelling, making contacts, seeing new and unusual places. He has seen more, learned more, and met more people than anyone, including you, Jondalar. He loves to travel, but even more, he loves coming home and sharing his adventures and knowledge about the people he met. He has established trading networks all across the Zelandonii land and beyond, and has brought back useful news, exciting stories, and unusual objects. He was a tremendous help to Marthona as leader, and now to Joharran. There is no man I respect more. And, of course, her only daughter was born to his hearth. Marthona always wanted a daughter, and your sister, Folara, is a lovely young woman,' Zelandoni said.

Ayla understood the feeling. She too had wanted a daughter very much, and she glanced down at her sleeping infant with a strong feeling of love.

'Yes, Folara is beautiful, and also intelligent and fearless,' Jondalar said. 'When we first arrived, and everyone else was so uneasy about the horses and all, she didn't hesitate. She ran down the path to greet me. I'll never forget that.'

'Yes, Folara makes your mother proud, but more, with a daughter one always knows that her children are your own grandchildren. I'm sure she loves the children born to her sons' hearths, but with a daughter there is no doubt. Then, of course, your brother Thonolan was also born to Willamar's hearth and though she played no favourites, he was the one who made her smile. But he made everyone smile. He had a way with people that was even more winning than Willamar's — warm, open, and friendly — qualities no one could resist, and he had the same love of travel. I doubt that you would ever have gone on such a long Journey if not for him, Jondalar.'

'You're right. I never thought of making a Journey until he decided to go. Visiting the Lanzadonii was far enough for me.'

'Why did you decide to go with him?' Zelandoni asked.

'I don't know if I can explain it,' Jondalar said. 'He was always fun to be around, so I knew it would be easy travelling with him, and he did make the trip sound exciting, but I didn't think we'd go as far as we did. I think part of it was that sometimes he could be a little reckless and I felt a need to look out for him. He was my brother and I think I loved him more than anyone I knew. I knew I'd come home someday, if it was possible, and I felt that if I was with him, he'd come back home with me, eventually. I don't know … something was pulling me,' Jondalar said. He glanced at Ayla, who had been listening even more intently than Zelandoni.

He didn't know it, but my totem and maybe the Mother pulled him, Ayla thought. He had to come and find me.

'What about Marona? Obviously you didn't feel enough for her to make you want to stay. Did she have anything to do with your decision to go?' the First asked. This was the first time since his return that the Donier had an opportunity to really talk to him about why he took his long Journey, and she was going to take advantage of it. 'What would you have done if Thonolan had not decided to make a Journey?'

'I guess I would have gone to the Summer Meeting and probably mated Marona,' Jondalar said. 'Everyone expected it, and there wasn't anyone I cared for more, at that time.' He looked up and smiled at Ayla. 'But to be honest, I wasn't thinking about her when I decided to go, I was worried about mother. I think she guessed Thonolan might not return, and I was afraid she might worry that I wouldn't either. I did plan to come back, but you never know. Anything can happen on a Journey, and many things did, but I knew Willamar wouldn't be going away, and she had Folara and Joharran.'

'What makes you think Marthona did not expect Thonolan to return?' the First asked.

'It was something that she said to us when we left to go visit Dalanar. Thonolan was the one who noticed it. Mother said "Good journey" to him, not "Until you return", as she did to me. And remember when we first told mother and Willamar about Thonolan? Willamar said that mother never expected him to return, and as I feared, she was afraid I wouldn't come back either when she found out I had gone with him. She said she was afraid she had lost two sons,' Jondalar said.

That was why he couldn't stay with the Sharamudoi when Tholie and Markeno asked us to, Ayla thought. They were so welcoming and I had grown so fond of them during our visit, I wanted to stay, but Jondalar couldn't. Now I know why, and I'm glad we came all the way back. Marthona treats me like a daughter and a friend, and so does Zelandoni. I really like Folara, and Proleva and Joharran, and many others. Not everyone, but most people have been nice.

'Marthona was right,' Zelandoni said. 'Thonolan was favoured with many Gifts, and he was greatly loved. Many people used to say he was a favourite of the Mother. I never like it when people say that, but in his case it was prophetic. The other side of being one of Her favourites is that She can't stand to be separated from them for too long and tends to take Her favourites back early, when they are still young. You were gone so long, I wondered if you were a little too favoured, also.'

'I didn't think I'd be gone five years,' Jondalar said.

'Most people doubted that you or Thonolan would ever return after you were gone two years. Occasionally someone would mention that you and Thonolan had gone on a Journey, but they were already starting to forget you. I wonder if you know how stunned people were when you returned. It wasn't only that you appeared with a foreign woman, and those horses and a wolf,' Zelandoni said, and smiled wryly. 'It was that you came back at all.'