The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

As both pairs of hands rubbed the slippery liquid with bits of root on the baby, she sat still, but with a little frown on her face. It was a new but not totally unpleasant sensation. “Now we need to wash her hair,” Ayla said, thinking this might be more difficult. “We’ll start by rubbing some soaproot on the back of her head. You can wash her ears and neck, too.”

She watched the girl and noticed that she handled the baby with calm assurance and seemed to be getting more comfortable with the process of bathing her. Ayla stopped for a moment with a sudden realization. I wasn’t much older than Lanoga when I had Durc! Perhaps I could count a year or two more, that’s all. Of course, I had Iza to teach me how to take care of him, but I learned.

“Next, lay her on her back, support her with one hand, don’t let her face get in the water, and wash the top of her hair with your other hand,” Ayla told her. She helped Lanoga ease the baby back. Lorala resisted somewhat, but the girl’s hands were sure now, and the child didn’t object to the warmish water once she was in it, secure in her sister’s arms. Ayla helped wash her hair, and then with her hands still soapy, she washed the baby’s legs and bottom. They had been soaking in the water, which in itself was getting a bit slick.

“Now wash her face, very carefully, just using your hands and the water. Don’t let anything get in her eyes. It won’t hurt, but it may make her uncomfortable,” Ayla said.

When they were through, they sat the baby up again. The woman pulled a very soft, pliable yellowish hide out of her pack, laid it out, lifted the baby out of the water, and wrapped her in it. She gave the baby to Lanoga. “Here she is, all clean and fresh.” She noticed the girl rubbing the soft suede-leather of the drying blanket. “It is nice and soft, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lanoga said, looking up at the woman.

“That was given to me as a gift by some people I met on our Journey. They were called Sharamudoi, and they were known for making the skins of chamois soft like that. Chamois are animals that live in the mountains near their home. They are something like mountain goats, but they are smaller than ibex. Do you know if there are chamois around here, Lanoga?”

“Yes,” the girl said. Ayla waited, smiling encouragingly. She had discovered that Lanoga responded to questions or direct commands, but didn’t seem to know how to engage in conversation. She didn’t know how to talk to people. Ayla kept smiling, waiting. Lanoga frowned, then finally said, “Some hunters brought one.”

She can talk! She volunteered a statement, Ayla thought, feeling pleased. She just needed some encouragement. “You can keep that hide, if you want,” she said.

Lanoga’s face showed a range of expressions the woman didn’t expect. First her eyes lit up, then showed

doubt, and then fear. Then she frowned and shook her head. “No. Can’t.”

“Do you want the hide?”

The girl looked down. “Yes.”

“Then why can’t you keep it?”

“Can’t keep it,” the girl said, then hesitated. “Won’t let me. Someone will take it.”

Ayla began to understand. “All right, let’s do it this way. You keep it for me. Then you will have it when you want to use it.”

“Someone will take it,” Lanoga repeated.

“Tell me if someone takes it, then I will go and take it back,” Ayla said.

Lanoga started to smile, then frowned and shook her head again. “Someone will get mad.”

Ayla nodded. “I understand. I will keep it, then, but remember, any time you want to use it, for Lorala or for you, you can come and borrow it. If someone wants to take it, tell them it belongs to me.”

Lanoga took the soft hide off the baby and put her down on a patch of grass. She gave the hide to the woman. “She’ll mess it,” she said.

“That wouldn’t be so bad. We’d just have to wash it. Let’s put her on it. It’s softer than the grass,” Ayla said. She spread it out and laid the baby on it, noticing that it still retained a slight, but pleasant, smoky odor.

After a hide was cleaned and scraped, it was processed, often with the brains of the animal, then worked and stretched while it dried to a beautiful soft, napped finish. The nearly white hide was then tanned over a smoky fire. The wood and other fuel that was burned determined the color of the hide, usually tan with a brownish or yellowish hue, and, to a slight degree, the texture of the finished piece. The tanning wasn’t done primarily for the color, however, it was done to maintain elasticity. While a hide might be soft before tanning, if it got wet and wasn’t worked and stretched again, it would dry stiff and hard. But once the smoke coated the collagen fibers, a change took place that kept the leather soft even through a washing. Smoke tanning was what made animal hides truly usable.

Ayla noticed that Lorala’s eyes were closing. Wolf had finished with his bone and had moved closer while they were washing the baby, too curious to stay away. Ayla had glanced up and seen him. Now she signaled him to come closer, and he ran toward them.

“It’s our turn to bathe,” Ayla said. She looked at the animal. “Wolf, watch Lorala, watch the baby.” Her hand signals told him the same thing. It wasn’t the first time the wolf had been left to guard a sleeping child. Lanoga had a slight frown of concern. “He’ll stay right here and make sure nothing harms her, and he’ll let us know if she wakes up. We will be right over there in that pond behind the stone dam. You will be able to see them. We’re going to wash ourselves the same way we washed Lorala, but our water will be colder,” Ayla added with a smile.

The woman picked up her haversack and the basket of soaking soaproot on their way to the pond. She took off her clothes and stepped in first. She demonstrated how to clean herself and helped Lanoga wash her hair, then took out two more pieces of the hide toweling and a long-toothed comb she had gotten from Marthona. After they dried, she worked the snarls and tangles out of Lanoga’s hair and, with a second comb, did her own.

Then, from the bottom of the carrying pack, she took out a tunic. Though it had been used, it was not worn. It looked new and had a simple decoration of fringes and some bead-work. Lanoga looked at it with longing and then touched it softly. She smiled when Ayla told her to put it on.

“I want you to wear this when we go to see the women,” Ayla said. Lanoga did not object, did not say a word, in fact, and did not hesitate to put it on. “We should go now. It is getting late. They are probably waiting for us.”

They followed the path back up to the stone terrace and started toward the living section and Proleva’s dwelling. Wolf fell back, and as Ayla turned to find him, she noticed he was looking back the way they had come. She followed his gaze and saw a woman and a man some distance behind. The woman weaved and stumbled as she walked. The man stayed beside her, but not very close, though one time he caught her when she almost fell down. When the woman turned toward Laramar’s living space, Ayla realized she was Lanoga and Lorala’s mother, Tremeda.

For a moment, Ayla wondered if she should try to bring her to the meeting with the women, but she decided against it. The women were likely to be much more sympathetic toward a pretty girl carrying a clean baby than they would be if a woman who had probably drunk too much barma was with them. Ayla started to go on, but her eye was caught by the man. He did not turn in with the woman, but kept on coming.