The Land of Painted Caves (Earth's Children 6)

The women spent the afternoon pulling and digging up plants from the muddy edge of the lake: the tall phragmite reeds, whose plume-like tops towered over both Jondalar and Kimeran, and slightly shorter cattails, whose spikes were fruiting with edible pollen. The fresh rootstalks and lower stems of both plants could also be eaten either raw or cooked, as well as the little bulblets that grew from the cattail rhizomes. Later the dried old stringy roots could be pounded into flour for making a kind of bread, especially good when mixed with the rich yellow pollen from the cattail spikes, but equally important were the nonedible parts.

The soft, hollow stems of the tall reeds could be woven into large baskets, or made into soft, springy bed mats, more comfortable to sleep on than fur bedrolls when it was warm, and into a ground mat for the furs when it was cold. The cattail leaves were also made into mats used for various purposes, including bedding and pads to kneel or sit upon. Besides being twined into baskets, they could be woven into dividing panels, waterproof coverings for dwellings, and rain cloaks and hats for people. The solid cattail stalk, when it became dry, made an e

xcellent firedrill. The brown “cat tail” tops would become fuzz that made good tinder, or stuffing for bedding, pads, and pillows, or absorbent material for babies’ waste, or women’s moontimes. They had found a veritable market of produce and products in the plants that grew so abundantly at the water’s edge.

For the rest of the afternoon the women wove berry-picking baskets. The men spent the afternoon discussing hunting and collecting the straight new-growths of young trees to make the dart-spears for the spear-throwers to replace those that had been lost or broken. Jondalar took off on Racer to follow the tracks and see if he could locate the herd that had made them. While he was at it, he looked for outcrops of flint, which he was sure could be found in this area. Ayla had seen him go and guessed he was looking for the herd, and for a brief moment considered going with him, but she was involved in making baskets and didn’t want to interrupt her task.

Though Jondalar hadn’t returned yet, they stopped for an evening meal and shared their plans. They were all laughing and talking when Jondalar rode into camp with a big grin.

“I found them, a sizable herd of bison,” he said, “and I found some fresh flint that looks to be of good quality, for new spears.”

He dismounted and took several large gray stones from the carrying baskets that were tied onto Racer’s back on each side for balance. Everybody clustered around him as he removed the carrying baskets, riding blanket, and halter from the stallion, then faced him toward the water, and slapped his rump. The brown horse waded into the lake and drank some water, then walked back out and on the sandy bank dropped down and rolled on his back, on one side, then the other. The people watching chuckled. It was amusing to watch the horse kicking his legs up in the air, obviously enjoying the good scratching he was giving himself.

Jondalar joined them around the fire and Ayla gave him a bowl of food that consisted of reconstituted dried meat, the lower stems and roots of cattail, and the budding tops of cattails, all cooked in the meat-flavored broth.

He smiled at Ayla. “And I also saw a covey of red grouse. That’s the bird I told you about that looks like a ptarmigan except it doesn’t turn white in winter. If we hunt them, we could use the feathers for the spears.”

Ayla smiled back. “And I can make Creb’s favorite dish.”

“Do you want to hunt them tomorrow morning?” Jondalar said.

“Yes …,” Ayla said, then frowned. “Well, I was going to pick berries.”

“Go ahead and hunt your grouse,” Zelandoni said. “We have enough people picking.”

“And I’ll watch Jonayla, if you want,” Levela said.

“You finish eating, Jondalar. I saw some nice round stones for my sling in that dry creek bed. I want to get them before it gets too dark,” Ayla said, musing. “I should bring my spear-thrower, too. I have some spears left.”

The next morning, instead of the usual dress, she put on a pair of soft buckskin leggings, which were similar to boy’s winter underwear, then foot-coverings that consisted of a moccasin foot part that was attached to a soft upper that wrapped around the ankle. She finished with a sleeveless vest-like top made of the same material as the leggings and tied the lacings tightly closed in front; it offered some support for her breasts. Then she quickly braided her hair to get it out of her way, and wrapped her sling around her head. She put the holder for her spear-thrower and spears on her back, then tied on her waist thong, to which were attached a good knife in its sheath, a pouch that she filled with the stones she had collected, another pouch that held a few implements including her personal drinking cup, and finally a small medicine bag with a few emergency supplies.

She dressed quickly, feeling some excitement. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to go hunting. She picked up her riding blanket, stepped out of the tent, and whistled for Whinney, and with a different trill, whistled for Wolf, then walked to where the horses were grazing. Gray had a halter with a long lead that was attached to a peg pounded into the ground so she wouldn’t stray too far; she had a tendency to wander off. She knew Whinney wouldn’t go far from the younger mare. Jondalar had left Racer in the same area. She put the riding blanket on the dun-yellow horse and taking Gray’s and Racer’s lead ropes, she jumped on her mare and rode to the campfire. She lifted her leg over, slid down from the back of the horse, and went to her daughter, who was sitting beside Levela.

“Jonayla, hold on to Gray. She may want to follow us,” Ayla said as she handed the lead to the girl. “We won’t be gone too long.” When she turned and looked up, she saw Wolf racing toward her. “There you are,” she said.

While Ayla embraced her daughter, Jondalar pushed a last bite of cattail root in his mouth, and got a gleam in his eye when he looked at the woman so full of excitement dressed to go riding and hunting. She looks so fine, he thought. He went to the large waterbag, filled up smaller pouches with water to take with them, then poured some in his cup and drank it. He brought the rest to Ayla and gave her a small waterbag and put the cup back in his carrying pouch. They said a few parting words to the people around the fire, and both mounted their horses.

“I hope you find your ptarmigan,” Beladora said, “or grouse.”

“Yes, good hunting,” Willamar said.

“In any case, have a good ride,” the First added.

As the people watched the couple leave, each had their own thoughts and feelings about them. Willamar looked on Jondalar and his mate as Marthona’s children, and therefore his, and felt the warmth of familial love. The First had a special feeling for Jondalar as a man she had once loved and still did in a way, though now it was as a friend and something more, almost as a son. She appreciated Ayla’s many Gifts, loved her as a friend, and was glad to have a colleague whom she considered an equal. She was also glad that Jondalar had found a woman worthy of his love. Beladora and Levela had also grown to love Ayla as a good friend, though there were times when they felt a certain awe toward her. They understood the magnetism of Jondalar’s appeal, but now that they both had mates and children whom they loved, they were not as overwhelmed and instead appreciated him as a caring friend who was willing to help whenever they asked.

Jonokol and the two young traders, and even Kimeran and Jondecam, appreciated Jondalar’s skills especially with flint and the spear-thrower, and rather envied him. His mate was attractive and accomplished in so many ways, yet so devoted to him that even during Mother Festivals, she chose only him, but he had always been known to have his pick of women. Many women still found him almost irresistibly charismatic, though he did not encourage their advances.

Amelana was still in awe of Ayla and found it difficult to think of her as just a woman who could be a friend, but she admired her intensely, and wished she could be like her. The young woman was also one who found Jondalar tremendously attractive, and had tried on occasion to entice him, but he seemed not to notice. Every other man Amelana had met on this trip gave her at least an appreciative glance, but she never managed to get more than a friendly but detached smile from him and didn’t know why. Actually, Jondalar was fully aware of her interest. In his younger days, more than one young woman with whom he had shared First Rites had tried to retain his interest afterward, though he was not allowed to have any further relations with them for a year. He had learned how to discourage such interest.

The two rode off on their horses, with Wolf following along. Jondalar led them west until he came to an area that looked familiar to him. He pulled up and showed her where he had found the flint, then looked around and started in a different direction. They came to an area of moorland, a tract of land covered with bracken, heather—the preferred food plant of red grouse—and coarse grasses with a few clumps of brush and brambles, not far from the western edge of the oxbow lake. Ayla smiled. It was similar to the tundra of ptarmigan habitat, and she could easily imagine that a southern variety of the birds could live in this region. They left the horses near a stand of hazelnut brush spreading out from a large center tree.

She could see that Wolf had taken notice of something ahead. He was alert, focused, and whining softly. “Go ahead, Wolf. Find them,” Ayla said.

As he dashed off, Ayla slipped her sling off her head, reached in her pouch for two stones, set one in the soft cup of her sling, and gathered up both ends. She didn’t have to wait long. With a sudden flurry of wings Wolf flushed out five red grouse. The birds lived close to the ground but could fly up in a burst of speed and then glide long. They resembled plump chickens with camouflage, brown and black flecked with white. Ayla hurled a stone the moment she saw the first bird, and delivered the second stone before the first one hit the ground. She heard a swoosh then saw Jondalar’s spear pierce a third.

If it had been just the two of them traveling together, the way it was on their Journey, that would have been enough, but the travelers numbered sixteen in all, including four children. Because of the way Ayla cooked the birds, everyone always wanted a taste, and though they were of a decent size—a live weight of twelve or thirteen pounds full grown—three birds would hardly feed sixteen people. She wished it were the right season for eggs; she liked to stuff the birds with eggs and roast them together. The nests usually consisted of a depression on the ground lined with grass or leaves, but there were no eggs to find at this time of year.

Ayla whistled again for Wolf. He came bounding back. It seemed obvious that he was having fun chasing birds. “Maybe he can find some more,” Ayla said, then looked at the four-legged hunter. “Wolf, find them. Find the birds.”