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

“Did you notice that all the animals are going out of the room, except for the mammoth?” Jonokol said. “It’s as if they are coming into this world from the place of the spirit world.”

The Watcher stood just outside the room they had been in and started humming again, but this time it was similar to the melody of the music of the Mother’s Song the way the First sang it. Every Cave of the Zelandonii sang or recited the Mother’s Song. It told the story of their beginnings, of the origin of the people, and while they were all similar and told the same story, each Cave’s version was not exactly the same. That was especially true if they sang it. The melodies of the songs were often quite different, sometimes depending on who did the singing. Because she had been endowed with such an extraordinary voice, the First had composed her own unique way of singing it.

As if on signal, the First picked up the next verse of the Mother’s Song from where she left off. Both Jonokol and Ayla refrained from joining in, and just enjoyed listening.

In violent labor spewing fire and strife,

She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.

Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochered soil,

But the radiant child made it all worth the toil.

The Mother’s great joy. A bright shining boy.

Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests,

She nurtured Her son from Her mountainous breasts.

He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high,

The Mother’s hot milk laid a path through the sky.

His life had begun. She nourished Her son.

He laughed and he played, and he grew big and bright.

He lit up the darkness, the Mother’s delight.

She lavished Her love, he grew bright and strong,

But soon he matured, not a child for long.

Her son was near grown. His mind was his own.

She took from the source for the life She’d begun.

Now the cold empty void was enticing Her son.

The Mother gave love, but the youth longed for more,

For knowledge, excitement, to travel, explore.

Chaos was Her foe. But Her son yearned to go.

He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,

While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.

With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled.

Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child.

The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one.

The Mother’s bright child, at first overjoyed,

Was soon overwhelmed by the bleak frigid void.