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

She stopped and looked down at the damp clay floor of the cave. All the people with their flickering torches were gathered together in one place. The pool of light didn’t spread very far and the animals painted on the walls were just hints in the darkness, more like the fleeting glimpses that most people saw in the world outside.

“On this trip, and before, we have seen other paintings and drawings that were beautiful, and some that were not so beautiful, but remarkable just the same. I don’t know how people do this, and I can’t begin to know why. I think it’s done to please the Mother and I’m sure it must, and maybe to tell Her story, or some other stories. Maybe people do it just because they can. Like Jonokol, he thinks of something to paint, and he can do it, so he does it. It’s the same when you sing, Zelandoni. Most people can sing, more or less, but no one can sing like you. When you sing, I don’t want to do anything but listen. It makes me feel good inside. That’s how I feel when I look at these painted caves. It’s how I feel when Jondalar looks at me with his eyes full of love. It feels like the ones who made these images are looking at me with eyes full of love.”

She looked down at the floor because she was fighting back tears. She could usually control her tears, but she was having trouble this time.

“I think that’s how the Mother must feel, too,” Ayla finished, her eyes glistening in the flickering light.

Now I know why she’s mated, the Watcher thought. She’s going to be a remarkable Zelandoni; she already is, but she couldn’t do it without him. Maybe that’s what the Mother meant him to do. Then she started to hum. Jonokol joined her. His singing always seemed to make others’ songs sound better. Then Willamar joined in just singing syllables. His voice was adequate, but it added to the music they sang together. Then Jondalar joined them. He had a good voice, but he didn’t sing except when others did. Then with the voices making a background chorus that resonated inside the stone cave that was so beautifully decorated, the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother began where she had left off with the Mother’s Song.

And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,

The thief who held captive the child of Her breast.

Together they fought for the son She adored.

Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored.

His energy burned. His brilliance returned.

But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat.

The Mother defended and would not retreat.

The whirlwind pulled hard, She refused to let go.

She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe.

She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away.

When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee,

The light from Her son glowed with vitality.

When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway,

And darkness returned at the end of the day.

She felt warmth from Her son. But neither had won.

The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,

That She and Her son were forever apart.

She ached for the child that had been denied,

So She quickened once more from the life force inside.

She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child.

When She was ready, Her waters of birth,

Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth.

And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled,

Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled.

Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen.