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

The wolf dashed into the grassy field again and Ayla followed after him. Jondalar followed her. Before long another grouse flew up and although it was some distance away, Jondalar launched a spear with his thrower and managed to bring it down. Then, while Jondalar was looking for the one he killed, a lek of four males took to the sky, identified by black and brown with white markings on tail and wing plumage and the yellows and reds of the beaks and combs. Ayla got two more with stones from her sling; she

seldom missed. Jondalar had not seen the fly-up, though he heard it, and was late getting his spear-thrower armed. He wounded one, and heard it squawk.

“That should be enough,” Ayla said, “even if we let Wolf have that last one.”

With Wolf’s help, they found and gathered up seven birds. The last had a broken wing but was still alive. Ayla wrung the bird’s neck and extracted the small spear, then signaled the wolf that he could have it. Wolf picked it up in his mouth and carried it out of sight into the field. Using tough grass as cordage, they tied the rest of the grouse together by their feet in pairs and strolled back to where the horses were grazing. She wrapped her sling around her head again as they walked toward the horses.

When they returned to camp, the hunters were talking about finding the bison while they were shaving the spear staffs smooth. Jondalar joined them to finish making the many spears they needed. After he knapped flint into points, they would attach them to the shafts and fletch them with the red grouse feathers she would provide. In the meantime, Ayla got the antler shovel that was used by everyone to clear the hearth of ashes and various other tasks. But the broad, flat shovel was not a spade for digging holes. For that she used a kind of awl, a sturdy flint pointed blade attached to the end of a wooden handle that could be used to break up the ground. The shovel was then used to remove the broken earth. She found a place off to the side near the sandy beach and dug a fairly deep hole in the sandy soil, built a fire nearby and placed several good-sized stones in it to heat them up, then started pulling the feathers out of her grouse.

Most of the others came to help. The large, strong feathers were given to the spear-makers, but Ayla wanted to keep the rest of them, too. Beladora had a pouch that she emptied of some implements and offered it to her for the feathers. They all helped to eviscerate and clean the six grouse, saving the edible innards like the hearts, gizzards, and livers. Ayla wrapped them in fresh hay from the field and put them back inside each bird and then wrapped the birds in more hay.

By then the stones were hot, and using bentwood tongs, Ayla placed the stones in the bottom and along the sides of the pit. She then covered them with dirt from the hole, and added green grass and leaves, which the children had helped to gather. The birds were placed on top of the greenery. Next, Ayla added vegetables—the lower stems of reeds and some ground nuts, good starchy roots that the other women had found—wrapped in edible green leaves, and put on top of the birds. These were covered by more green grass and leaves, another layer of dirt, then more hot stones. A last layer of dirt went on top to seal it off. It would all be left to cook undisturbed until time for the evening meal.

Ayla went to see how the spear-making was coming along. When she got there, some people were carving indentations in the butt ends of the shafts that would be placed against the hook at the back of the spear-thrower; others were gluing on the feathers with heated pitch from pine trees. The feathers were held in place with thin strings of sinew, which they had brought with them. Jonokol was grinding up charcoal that was added along with hot water to a chunk of warm pitch and stirred together. Then he dipped a stick in the thick black liquid and with it painted designs, abelans, on several spear shafts. An abelan signified both a person and his or her name, it meant the name of a life spirit, it was a personal symbol mark that was given to an infant shortly after birth by a Zelandoni. It wasn’t writing, but it was a symbolic use of marks.

Jondalar had made spears for Ayla as well as himself, and gave them to her to mark with her own abelan. She counted them; there were twice ten, twenty. She made four lines close together on each of the shafts. That was her personal symbol mark. Since she wasn’t born to the Zelandonii, she had chosen her own abelan and picked marks that matched the scars on her leg given to her by a cave lion when she was a little girl. It was how Creb had decided that the Cave Lion was her totem.

The marks would be used later to identify which hunter had slain a particular animal so the attribution of the kill could be made and the distribution of the meat would be equitable. It wasn’t that the person who killed the animal got all the meat, but he or she would have first choice of the select parts and was credited with providing meat to the ones who were given a share, which could be even more important. It meant praise, recognition, and an obligation owed. The best hunters often gave most of their meat away just to acquire the credit, sometimes to the dismay of their mates, but it was expected of them.

Levela considered going on the hunt, and Beladora and Amelana said they would be happy to watch Jonlevan along with Jonayla, but in the end Levela decided not to go. She had only recently started weaning Jonlevan, and was still nursing him occasionally. She hadn’t hunted since her son was born, and felt out of practice. She thought she might be more hindrance than help.

By the time the spears were completed, Jondalar had used up nearly all the flint he had found for the points, the best of the feathers were gone, applied to the spear shafts to help the weapons fly true, and it was nearly time to have the meal that Ayla had started. Several people had picked many more bilberries, most of which were drying on woven mats. The balance were being cooked into a sauce in a sturdy new bowl woven out of cattail leaves mixed with stems of rush plants that grew in a marsh near the lake, using stones heated in the fire. The only sweetening for the sauce came from the fruit itself, but flavorings from the flowers, leaves, and barks of various plants were often added. In this case Ayla had found meadowsweet, whose tiny flowers made a creamy, foaming display with a honey-sweet fragrance; the intensely aromatic blue flowers of hyssop, which was also a good cough remedy; and the leaves and scarlet flowers of bergamot. Rendered fat was added for a touch of richness.

The meal was pronounced a delicious success, almost a feast. The grouse provided a different meat, a new flavor, a change from the dried meat they so often had, and cooking in the ground oven had tenderized the birds, even the tough old males. The grass they were wrapped in had contributed its own flavor, and the fruit sauce added an agreeable piquant taste. There wasn’t as much left over as usual for the morning meal, but enough, especially with the addition of the tender lower stems and rootstalks of cattails.

People were also excited about the hunt planned for the next day. Jondalar and Willamar started talking about it with the others, but until they saw exactly where the bison were, they couldn’t decide what specific strategy to use. They would have to wait until they found the bovids. Since it was still daylight, Jondalar decided on the spur of the moment to follow the trail again to see if he could still find the herd. He didn’t know how much they might have moved. Ayla and Jonayla went with him on their horses, just to give the animals a run. They did find the bison, but not in quite the same place. Jondalar was glad he had decided to track them again, so he could lead the hunters directly to them.

There was always a little chill in the air in the early morning, even in the middle of summer. When Ayla stepped outside the tent the air felt fresh and damp. A cool mist hugged the ground and a layer of fog hung over the lake. Beladora and Levela were up already tending a new fire. Their children were up as well and Jonayla was with them. Ayla hadn’t heard her get up, but the child could be very quiet when she wanted to be. When she spied her mother, she came running over.

“You’re finally up, mother,” she said, as Ayla reached down to pick her up and give her a hug. Ayla doubted that her daughter had been awake very long, but she knew that a child’s sense of time was different from that of adults.

After she passed her water, Ayla decided to take a bathing swim in the lake before she went back into the tent. She emerged not long after dressed in her hunting outfit. Her activities woke Jondalar, who was content to lie in his bedroll and watch her; he had been well satisfied the night before. The sleeveless vest didn’t offer much warmth, but the hunters didn’t want to overdress since they knew the temperature would rise later. On cool mornings they tended to stay close to the fire and drink hot tea. Their activity would warm them once they s

tarted out. The grouse tasted just as good cold as a morning meal as it did the night before. Once again Gray was left behind with Jonayla, but the child didn’t want to stay.

“Mother, can’t I go with you, please? You know I can ride Gray,” the girl implored.

“No, Jonayla. It would be too dangerous for you. Things can happen that you don’t expect, and sometimes you have to get your horse out of the way. And you don’t know how to hunt yet,” Ayla said.

“But when will I learn?” she said with great yearning.

Ayla remembered when she was eager to learn, even though women of the Clan weren’t supposed to hunt. She’d had to teach herself, in secret. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” she said. “I’ll ask Jondy to make a spear-thrower for you, a small one that is your size, so you can begin practicing with it.”

“Will you, mother? Promise?” the child said.

“Yes, I promise.”

Jondalar and Ayla led their horses rather than riding them to make it easier for the rest to keep up. He found the huge ancient bison—six feet tall at the shoulder with gigantic horns, and with a coat that was a solid dark brown color—not far from where he had last seen them. It was a medium-size herd, but they didn’t want the whole herd. They were a small group and only needed a few animals.

There was some discussion about the best way to hunt the bison and it was decided to walk around the herd, carefully so as not to disturb them, and see what the nearby lay of the land was like. There were no convenient blind canyons to drive them into, but there was a dry riverbed with fairly high banks on both sides in one place.

“This could work,” Jondalar said, “if we build a fire at the lower end, but not until we drive them up close to it. So we’d have to get the fire ready to go and probably light it with a torch. Then we have to drive them this way.”

“Do you really think that would work? How are we going to get them going?”

“With the horses and Wolf, we can drive them,” Jondalar said. “Soon as they start into the narrow place, someone can start a fire at the end to slow them down. Others can wait on the high banks—probably best if you lie down on the ground—and when they’re in front of you, jump up and use your spear-throwers. We should all gather some wood and pile it up at the end. Then get some tinder and other quick-burning fire-starting material.”

“Sounds like you have it all worked out,” Tivonan said.