The Shelters of Stone

by Jean M. Auel

  “Their Zelandoni is a good artist,” Jondalar said. “In one of the shelters, she has engraved animals on the walls, maybe we’ll have time to visit her. She makes small carvings to carry, too. But we’ll be back here for the nut harvest, anyway.”

  Joharran returned with three young men and one young woman who had volunteered to walk behind the travois and lift the poles out of the water when they crossed rivers. They all seemed rather pleased to have been chosen to perform the task. Joharran had no trouble finding people who were willing, the problem was making the selection. Many people wanted to get closer to the horses, and the wolf, and learn more about the foreign woman. It would give them something interesting to talk about at the Summer Meeting.

  On the more level terrain, except during the actual water crossings, Jondalar and Ayla were able to walk side by side, leading the horses. Wolf, as usual, did not follow as closely. He liked to explore when he traveled, running ahead and falling behind, following his curiosity and the scents his sensitive nose detected. Jondalar used the opportunity to tell Ayla more about the people they would be staying with and their territory.

  He talked about the large tributary coming down from the north, called North River, that joined The River on the right bank. The northern side of the grassy floodplain was enlarged by North River’s valley as well as by the continually expanding upstream valley of The River itself. Jutting out between the valleys of the tributary and the primary was the oldest living site of the community, the northern settlement, formally the North Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, but referred to as South Face. To reach it from Summer Camp, he told her, they used a path that led to stepping-stones across the tributary, but now they were approaching it along The River.

  Ahead, on a hill overlooking the open landscape, was a triangular-shaped cliff that held three south-facing terraces arranged like steps, one over the other. Though it was within a mile and a half of all the living sites that made up the Three Rocks community, several auxiliary sites were much closer and now considered themselves part of the North Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave.

  He explained that a well-used trail traversed easily up the hillside in two switchbacks to the middle level, which was the main living site of South Face. The upper small abri, which overlooked much of the large valley, was used as a lookout and was usually referred to as the South Face Overlook, or simply the Overlook. The lowest level was semisubterranean and used more for storage than everyday living. Among other food and supplies, the nuts collected at Summer Camp were kept there. Some of the other abris that were part of the South Face settlement complex had their own descriptive names, such as Long Rock, Deep Bank, and Good Spring, referring to the natural spring that welled up nearby.

  “Even the storage area has a name,” he said. “It’s called Bare Rock. The old people tell the story that was told to them when they were young. It’s part of the Histories. It’s about a very hard winter and a cold, wet spring when they ran out of all their stored food—the lower rock storage area was Bare Rock. Then the last gasp of winter howled in with a driving blizzard. Everyone went hungry for a while. The only thing that saved them from starvation was a large cache of pine nuts stored by squirrels in the lower rock shelter that a young girl happened to find. It’s amazing how much those little nut chasers can pile up.

  “But even when the weather cleared enough to hunt, the deer and horses they managed to kill had been starving, too,” Jondalar continued. “The meat was lean and tough, and it was a long time before the first greens and roots of spring. The next fall, the whole community gathered many more of the nuts from the stone pines as a hedge against future hard winters and hungry springs, and started the tradition of collecting them.”

  The young people who had helped them keep the food dry while crossing rivers crowded in close so they could hear Jondalar as he talked about their closest neighbor to the north. They didn’t know that much about them, either, and listened with interest.

  About a mile and a half away, and across The River, they could see the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, the largest and most unusual cliff in the region. Though north-facing sites were seldom utilized as living places, this one on the south side of The River was too inviting to be ignored. The cliff face, a half mile in length, rose vertically two hundred fifty feet from The River in five levels and held nearly a hundred caves and cavities, plus overhanging rock shelters and terraces.

  Grand views of the valley could be seen from all the terraces, so a specific shelter or cave to use as a lookout was not needed. But the cliff did offer a different, unique view. In one section of a lower terrace that projected over a quiet backwater of the moving stream, it was possible to look down and see one’s reflection in the still water.

  “It’s not named for its size, as you might think,” Jondalar said. “It’s named for that unusual view. It is called Reflection Rock.”

  The cliff was so huge that most of the possible living sites were not even occupied—it would have been as crowded as a marmot mound if they had been. The natural resources of the surrounding area would not have supported so many people. They would have depleted whole herds and stripped the landscape of vegetation. But the huge cliff was an exceptional place, and those who lived there knew that the mere sight of their home left strangers and first-time visitors gaping with awe.

  It could even dazzle those who were familiar with it, Jondalar realized as he looked at the extraordinary natural formation. The Ninth Cave, with its magnificent overhanging stone shelf sheltering a spacious and comfortable area, was certainly remarkable in its own right, and in most ways offered more livability—that it primarily faced south was a tremendous advantage—but he had to admit that the extensive and imposing cliff ahead was impressive.

  But the people who were standing on the lowest-level terrace were feeling a touch of awe themselves at the sight that was approaching them. The welcoming gesture of the woman who was standing somewhat ahead of the others was more tentative than usual. She was holding her hand up with her palm facing her, but her beckoning motion was not very vigorous. She had heard of the return of Marthona’s wandering second son and the foreign woman he brought back. She had even heard that they had horses and a wolf with them, but hearing it was not the same as seeing it, and seeing two horses walking calmly amid the people of the Ninth Cave, behind a wolf—a big wolf—a tall, blond, unfamiliar woman and the man she knew as Jondalar was unnerving, at the very least.

  Joharran looked aside to cover up a smile he couldn’t help making when he saw the woman’s expression, though he understood entirely how she felt. It wasn’t so long ago that he had experienced the same frisson of fear at the same uncanny sight. He was amazed, when he thought about it, how quickly he had gotten used to it. So quickly that he hadn’t anticipated the reaction of his neighbors, and he knew he should have. He was glad they had stopped. It gave him a hint of the effect they would very likely have on people when they reached the Summer Meeting.

  22

  If Joharran hadn’t decided to set up the tent in the field, I think I would have stayed out anyway,” Ayla said. “I want to be close to Whinney and Racer while we’re traveling, and I didn’t want to bring them up on that cliff. They wouldn’t have liked it.”

  “I don’t think Denanna would have liked it much, either,” Jondalar said. “She seemed exceptionally nervous around the animals.”

  They were riding upstream through the valley of the tributary called North River, giving the animals, and themselves, a break from the close association of so many people. They had gone through the formality of meeting all the leaders, and Ayla was still trying to sort them out. Denanna, who was the leader of Reflection Rock, the South Holding, was the acknowledged leader of the Twenty-ninth Cave, but Summer Camp and South Face, the West and North Holdings, also had leaders. Whenever there were decisions to make that concerned all of Three Rocks, the three leaders worked together to reach a consensus, but it was p
resented by Denanna, because the rest of the Zelandonii leaders insisted that if the Twenty-ninth Cave was going to call itself one Cave, they should have just one leader to speak for them.

  The zelandonia had a slightly different set of requirements. West, North, and South Holdings each had their own Zelandoni. but the Zelandonia of the three holdings were assistants to a fourth donier, who was the Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth. Because there was a great enough distance between the holdings, it was reasonable that each would want its own Zelandoni, and one who was a good healer, especially during the seasons of cold and stormy weather, but the primary relationship of any individual Zelandoni was to the zelandonia as a whole, although the Cave they served was of almost equal, and in some ways greater, importance.

  The Zelandoni of Reflection Rock was such a good healer that even women during childbirth were glad to have him assist. The Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth, who also lived at Reflection Rock to be close to the nominal leader, was not a particularly good healer, but she was a good mediator who could work diplomatically with the three other Zelandonia and the three leaders, and soothe the sometimes prickly feelings of all of them. Some people felt that if it were not for Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth, the whole complex arrangement called the Twenty-ninth Cave would not hold together.

  Ayla was happy to have the excuse of the horses needing care and attention to get away from the rest of the formal greetings, feasting, and other rituals. She had spoken to Joharran and Proleva before meeting their neighbors of the next Cave to the north, and told them it was essential for the well-being of Whinney and Racer that she and Jondalar tend to them. The leader said he would make their excuses, and the leader’s mate promised to save some food for them.

  Ayla was conscious of being watched while they unhitched the pole drags and removed the rest of the loads, and when she examined both horses carefully to make sure they had not sustained any injuries or developed any sores. They rubbed down and combed both animals, then Jondalar suggested that they take Whinney and Racer out and let them run after the day of slow and careful walking. Ayla’s beautiful smile of gratitude made him glad he had. Wolf leaped ahead when he saw them heading out; he seemed pleased, too.

  Joharran was among those who watched them with the horses. He had often seen them doing the same thing before, but this time he understood it as one more element of the care they required. Horses obviously didn’t need that kind of attention when they were living with their herds, but when they did the work that people wanted, perhaps they did. Yes, the potential benefit of using horses to help in various ways was there, but was it worth the amount of work they required? It was a question he was pondering while he watched Ayla and his brother ride off.

  Ayla felt herself relax almost as soon as they left. There was a sense of release, of freedom, to riding away by themselves. They had grown accustomed to traveling together with just the animals on their long Journey, and they both found respite in returning to their habit. When they reached North River Valley and saw the long open grassland ahead, they looked at each other simultaneously, grinned, then urged the horses on until they were galloping across the field full-tilt. They didn’t notice when they passed a couple of people returning to the Twenty-ninth Cave from a quick trip to the site of the Summer Meeting, but the people noticed them. They stared with mouths agape at a sight they had never seen before and weren’t sure they wanted to see again. People racing along on the backs of horses left them uneasy.

  Ayla stopped beside a small creek, Jondalar pulled up at the next step. With tacit agreement, they both turned and followed it. The source was a spring-fed pool with a large willow hovering over it, as though protecting its birthright of water for itself and its offspring: a collection of smaller willows crowding close to the large, overflowing basin. They dismounted, took the riding blankets off the horses, and spread them out on the ground.

  The horses drank from the creek, then both of them decided it was a good time for a roll. The young couple couldn’t help laughing at the animals squirming on their backs with their legs in the air, feeling comfortable and safe enough to enjoy a good back scratch.

  Suddenly Ayla reached for the sling wrapped around her head, unwrapped it quickly, and glanced down toward the pool for stones. She grabbed a couple of rounded pebbles, fit one into the pocket of the hurling weapon, and let fly. Without looking, she grabbed the leather strap again, pulled it through her hand to the end, brought both ends together, and had another stone ready to go just as a second bird was taking to the air. She brought it down, then went to retrieve her two willow ptarmigan.

  “If it was just the two of us, and we were going to set up camp here, we’d have our evening meal,” Ayla said, holding up her trophies.

  “But it’s not just the two of us, so what are you going to do with them?” Jondalar said.

  “Well, the feathers of ptarmigan are the warmest and lightest, and the feather markings are rather nice this time of year. I could make something for the baby,” she said. “But I’ll have time to make baby things later. I think I’ll give these to Denanna. After all, this is their territory, and she seems so anxious about Whinney and Racer, and Wolf, that I think she wishes we hadn’t come. Maybe a gift will make her feel better.”

  “Where did you learn to be so wise, Ayla?” Jondalar said, looking at her with love and warmth.

  “That’s not wisdom, that’s just sense, Jondalar.” She looked up and felt herself become lost in the magic of his eyes. The only place she had ever seen such a rich blue color was in the deep pools of glaciers, but his eyes were not icy They were warm and filli of love.

  He put his arms around her, and she dropped the brace of birds to reach up and kiss him. It seemed like a long time since he had held her like this, then she realized it had been a long time. Not since he had kissed her, but since they had been alone in an open field, with the horses grazing contentedly and Wolf poking his inquiring nose into every bush and hole in the ground, and no one else around. Soon they would have to go back and continue the trek to the Summer Meeting, and who knew when they would have a moment like this again? When Jondalar began nuzzling her neck, Ayla responded eagerly.

  His warm breath and moist tongue sent shivers through her and she gave herself to them, letting the sensation overcome her. He blew in her ear and nibbled her lobe, then pulled his hands forward to hold the fullness of her breasts. Even more full now, he thought, reminding him that she was carrying new life inside her, new life that she said was as much his as hers. At the least, the life had to be of his spirit, of that he felt sure. For most of their Journey, he had been the only man around for the Mother to take an elan from.

  She untied her waist thong, from which hung various objects and pouches that were secured by loops or strings, and laid it down beside the riding blanket, making sure all the things that were attached to it stayed in place. He sat down on the edge of the leather covering that smelled strongly, though not unpleasantly, of horse. It was a smell he was used to and that carried with it enjoyable associations. Quickly, he began untying and unwrapping the thongs of his foot coverings from around his legs, then stood up and untied the waistband that held closed the overlapping front of his leggings and pulled them off.

  When he looked up, Ayla had done the same. He looked at her and liked what he saw. Her shape was more full, not only her breasts, but her stomach, which was rounder, starting to show the new life growing. He felt his manhood respond, snatched off his tunic, then helped Ayla with hers. He felt a cool breeze on his bare skin, saw chill bumps raise on hers, and took her in his arms, feeling her warmth and trying to keep her that way.

  “I’m going to wash in the pool,” she said.

  He smiled, feeling that it was an invitation for him to Pleasure her the way he liked. “You don’t have to,” he said.

  “I know, but I want to. All the walking and climbing made me sweaty,” she said, walking toward the pond.

  It was cold, but she usually washed in cold water
and found the chill, tingling sensation stimulating, most of the rime. In the mornings, it woke her up. It was a shallow pond except for the end near the spring. There, she found it dropped off quickly until her feet no longer touched the rocky, silty bottom. She treaded water, moving out of the deep part and back toward the stony bank.

  Jondalar followed her in, though he liked cold water far less than she did. He was up to his thighs, and when she got close, he splashed her. She squealed and sloshed the water around, roiling it up, and with both hands splashed a wave toward him that caught him in the face and soaked him from the shoulders down.

  “I wasn’t ready for that,” he said, sputtering with a sudden shiver, and slapped the water back at her. The horses looked up at the commotion they were making in the water. She grinned at him, he reached for her, and the noisy water play stopped as they stood together with arms entwined and lips pressed together.

  “Maybe I should help you wash,” he murmured in her ear as he reached between her legs and felt himself respond.

  “Maybe I should help you,” she said, reaching for his hard erect member, and with the water, she rubbed her hand up and down, exposing the head from the foreskin. The cold liquid ought to have cooled his ardor, he thought, but her cool hand on his warm organ was strangely, intensely stimulating. Then she knelt down and when she took the head of his manhood in her mouth, it felt hot. He moaned as she moved back and forth, working her tongue around the head, and he felt such urgency, it caught him by surprise. Suddenly, before he could control it, he felt his ardor rise and burst forth as waves of release washed through him.