The Shelters of Stone

by Jean M. Auel

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. I love you, Ayla. I just want to take care of you and your baby,” he said. He reached to enfold her in his arms.

  “Our baby, Jondalar. Our baby,” she said, putting her arms around him and clinging to his bare chest. He felt her bare breasts and the bulge of her stomach, and was glad for both.

  “All right, Ayla. Our baby,” he said. He wanted to believe it.

  There was a noticeable nip in the air as they stepped out of the lodge. The leaves on the trees in the small woods were turning shades of yellow and an occasional red, and the grasses and herbs that were not trampled into dust around the encampment were brown and shriveled. Every bit of fallen wood or dry brush in the area had long since been burned, and the woods had been thinned out considerably.

  Jondalar picked up the packs that had been lying on the ground near the opening of the lodge. “The horses with the pole drags are going to be a big help carrying back the winter food stores. It’s been a good season.”

  Wolf raced up to them, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. One ear drooped slightly and had a ragged edge, giving him a raffish air. “I think he knows we’re leaving,” Ayla said. “I’m so glad he came back and stayed with us, even if he was hurt. I would have missed him. I’m looking forward to returning to the Ninth Cave, but I’ll always remember this Summer Meeting. This is the Meeting we were mated.”

  “I enjoyed this Summer Meeting, too, I haven’t been to one in so long, but now that we’re leaving, I’m anxious to get back,” Jondalar said, then smiled. He was thinking of the surprise that he knew was waiting for Ayla. She noticed a difference in his expression. His smile was more a delighted grin, and he projected a sense of expectation. She had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her, but she had no idea what it could be.

  “I’m glad the Lanzadonii came. It’s a long way for them to travel, but Dalanar got the donier he wanted,” he continued, “and Joplaya and Echozar are properly mated. The Lanzadonii are a small people yet, but it won’t be long before there’s a second Cave. They have a lot of young ones, and they’ve been lucky. Most have survived.”

  “I’m pleased that Joplaya is pregnant,” Ayla said. “She was Blessed before they were joined, but I don’t think many people heard that during the Matrimonial.”

  “Some people had other things on their minds, but I’m glad for them. Joplaya seems different, somehow, sadder. Maybe all she needs is a baby,” Jondalar said.

  “We’d better hurry. Joharran said he wanted to leave early,” Ayla said.

  She didn’t want to talk about Joplaya’s sadness because she knew the reason, and she didn’t want to mention the long conversation she’d had with Jerika. Joplaya’s mother had wanted some specific information from her. She told Ayla about her own difficulty in giving birth and wanted to know everything Ayla could tell her that might make a potentially difficult delivery easier. She also wanted to know about her medicine that could prevent conception, and ways to bring on a miscarriage if that didn’t work. She feared for the life of her only child and would have been satisfied with no grandchildren rather than lose her daughter. But since she was already pregnant, and determined to have this baby, if she survived the delivery, Jerika was determined to make sure there would be no more pregnancies.

  The Eleventh Cave had brought all their rafts upriver, and Joharran arranged to send some things back that way, but River Place only had so many rafts and all the Caves wanted to use them. The Ninth Cave loaded as many rawhide packages of dried meat and baskets of gathered foods on the travoises and the backs of Whinney and Racer as they could. The lodges that had been their homes for the summer were taken down, and the parts that could be salvaged and reused were also loaded on the horses. Each person also carried a full backpack, and some people, seeing the pole drags of the horses, fashioned a similar device for themselves to drag. Ayla thought about making one for Wolf, but she hadn’t trained him to pull one yet. Perhaps next year he would have a load, too.

  Joharran was all over the campsite, urging people to hurry, offering suggestions, making sure everything was in readiness. When he was sure the Ninth Cave was packed and ready to go, he started out ahead of the rest, his spear held loosely, but it was more symbolic than necessary. They were traveling in the daytime with a large group, and as long as they stayed together, no four-legged hunter would come near them. Nonetheless, at the first sign of danger, Joharran could have his spear mounted in his spear-thrower and ready to fling in an instant. He had practiced with the weapon over the summer, and had gained some skill with it. There were half a dozen others designated to guard the flanks, with Solaban and Rushemar bringing up the rear. The job of guarding would be rotated among several others, who were, at the moment, helping to carry a rich summer bounty back to the Ninth Cave.

  Ayla looked out over the camp of the Summer Meeting one last time before they left. Piles of bones and trash littered the small valley. Several of the Caves had already departed, leaving large empty spaces between the campsites of those that remained, with poles and log frames left standing, and black circles and rectangles that showed where sustaining fires had been. A tent that was too worn for further use had been left behind, and a torn edge of leather no longer attached to a pole was flapping in the wind, which was also blowing an old basket around. As she watched, another Cave’s lodges were being torn down. The Summer Meeting camp had a desolate, abandoned look to it.

  But the litter was of the earth and would soon decompose. By the next spring there would be little evidence remaining of the Caves that had summered here. The earth would heal from the invasion.

  The trip back was arduous. The heavily loaded people trudged under their burdens and dropped into their beds exhausted at night. Joharran set a brisk pace in the beginning, but slowed as they progressed to enable the weakest to keep up. But they all looked forward to going home and their spirits were high. The loads they carried represented survival during the harsh winter months ahead.

  As they neared the abri of the Ninth Cave, the familiar landscape encouraged the people to hurry. They were eager to reach the shelter under the overhanging ledge of stone, and they pushed themselves so they would not have to spend another night outside. The first evening stars were winking on in the sky as the familiar cliff with the Falling Stone came into view. They crossed Wood River on the stepping-stones with some difficulty under the failing light with their cumbersome loads, then followed the path up to the front porch of their abri. When they finally reached the stone porch in front of the opening under the protecting shelf, it was nearly dark.

  It was Joharran’s job to make the first fire and light a torch to carry into the abri, and he was glad for the firestones. The fire was quickly started and the torch lit, then people waited impatiently while Zelandoni removed the small female figurine that had been set in front of their shelter to protect it. After they thanked the Great Mother for watching over their home in their absence, several more torches were lit. The Cave formed a procession behind the large woman as she put the donii back in its place behind the large hearth at the rear of the protected space, then everyone scattered to their own dwellings to gratefully drop off their loads.

  The inevitable first chore was to inspect any damage that might have been wrought by marauding creatures while they were gone. There were a few animal droppings, some hearthstones had been disturbed, a basket or two had been knocked over, but the damage was minimal. Fires were lighted in the hearths inside, and provisions and stores were brought in. Sleeping furs were spread out on familiar sleeping benches. The Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii had returned home.

  Ayla started toward Marthona’s home, but Jondalar led her off in a different direction. Wolf followed. Holding a torch in one hand and her hand with the other, he guided her farther back into the abri toward another structure, one she didn’t remember being there. Jondalar stopped in front of it, pulled aside the flap that covered the entrance, and motioned to her to go inside. “
You sleep in your own dwelling tonight, Ayla,” he said.

  “My own dwelling?” she said, so overwhelmed that she could hardly speak. As she entered the dark interior, the wolf slipped in with her. Jondalar followed, holding up a torch so she could see.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  Ayla looked around. The inside was essentially bare, but there were shelves against one wall adjacent to the entrance and a platform built up at one end for sleeping furs. The floor was paved with smooth, flat sections of limestone from the nearby cliff, with hardened river clay between the spaces. A hearth was set up, and the niche directly opposite the entrance held a small fat female figure.

  “My own home.” She twirled around in the middle of the empty structure, her eyes sparkling. “A dwelling just for the two of us?” The wolf sat on his haunches and looked at her. This was a new place, but wherever Ayla was was home to him.

  Jondalar’s face was split by a ridiculous grin. Or maybe the three of us,” he said, patting her belly. “This place is still sort of empty.”

  “I love it. I just love it. It’s beautiful, Jondalar.”

  He was so pleased by her delight, he felt tears welling up and had to do something to fend them off. He handed her the torch he still held. “Then you have to light the lamp, Ayla. It means you accept it. I have some rendered fat here. I carried it all the way from our last camp.”

  He reached under his tunic and withdrew a small pouch, warmed by his body heat, made of the cured bladder of a deer, encased in a slightly larger pouch made of its hide, with the fur side in. The bladder was nearly waterproof, although it did seep slightly over time, especially when warm. The second pouch was to absorb the minimal seepage, the fur adding an extra layer to soak up any grease that might permeate. The top of the bladder had been tied with sinew from a leg tendon around a vertebra from the spine of the deer, shaved of extraneous bone to a circular shape. The natural hole, which had once held a spinal cord, served as a pouring hole. It was stoppered by a leather thong tied several times into a knot that fit the hole.

  Jondalar pulled the end of the thong to release the knot and poured some of the liquefied fat into a new stone lamp. He dipped one end of an absorbent wick made of lichen taken from the branches of trees at the Summer Meeting camp and placed it into the oil, then held a torch to it. It flared up instandy. When the fat was fully melted and hot, he took out a leaf-wrapped package of wicks that came from a porous fungus that had been cut into strips and dried. He liked using fungus wicks, with their capacity to burn longer and warmer illumination. He laid the wick from the middle of the shallow bowl to the rim and extended it a bit farther over the edge. Then he added a second and a third wick to the same lamp, so that one lamp could give the light of three.

  Then he filled a second lamp and gave the torch to Ayla. She held the fire to the wick. It caught, sputtered, then settled down into a glowing light. He carried the lamp to the niche that held the donii and placed it in front of the female figure. Ayla followed him. When he turned around, she looked up at the tall man.

  “This dwelling is now yours, Ayla. If you allow me to light my hearth within it,” Jondalar said, “any children born here will be born to my hearth. Will you allow it?”

  “Yes. Of course,” she said.

  He took the torch from her and strode to the fireplace area, which was outlined with a circle of stones. Within it, wood had been set up, ready to light. He held the torch to the kindling and watched until the small wood set the larger pieces aflame. He did not want to take any chances that the fire would go out before it was well established. When he looked up, Ayla was looking at him with love in her eyes. He stood up and took her in his arms.

  “Jondalar, I’m so happy,” she said, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes.

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m so happy,” she said, clinging to him. “I never dreamed I would ever be so happy. I am going to live in this beautiful home, and the Zelandonii are my people, and I’m going to have a baby, and I’m mated to you. Mostly because I’m mated to you. I love you, Jondalar. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, Ayla. That’s why I built this dwelling for you,” he said, bending his head to reach her lips, which were straining to reach his. He tasted the salt from her tears.

  “But, when did you do it?” she asked when they finally parted. “How? We were at the Meeting all summer.”

  “Do you remember that hunting trip I went on with Joharran and the rest? It wasn’t only a hunting trip. We came back here and built this,” Jondalar said.

  “You came all the way back here to build a dwelling? Why didn’t you tell me?” she said.

  “I wanted to surprise you. You are not the only one who can plan surprises, “Jondalar said, still pleased at her happily shocked response.

  “It’s the best surprise I ever had,” she said, tears threatening to well up again.

  “You know, Ayla,” he said, suddenly looking serious, “if you ever throw out the stones of my hearth, I will have to return to my mother’s dwelling, or go someplace else. It would mean that you want to sever the knot of our joining.”

  “How can you even say that, Jondalar? I would never want to do that!” she said, looking appalled.

  “If you had been born a Zelandonii, I wouldn’t have to say it. You would know. I just want to make sure you understand. This dwelling is yours, and your children’s, Ayla. Only the hearth is mine,” Jondalar explained.

  “But you were the one who made it. How can it be mine?”

  “If I want your children to be born to my hearth, it is my responsibility to provide a place for you and your children to live. A place that will be yours no matter what happens,” he said.

  “You mean you were required to make a dwelling for me?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. I am required to make sure you have a place to live, but I wanted to give you your own home. We could have stayed with my mother. It’s not unusual when young men are first mated. Or if you were Zelandonii, we could have arranged to stay with your mother, or some other of your kin, until I could provide you with a place of your own. In that case, I would be obligated to your kin, of course.”

  “I didn’t understand that you would be taking on so much obligation for me when we joined,” Ayla said.

  “It’s not just for a woman, it’s for the children. They can’t take care of themselves, they must be provided for. Some people live with kin all their lives, often with a woman’s mother. When the mother dies, her home belongs to her children, but if one has been living with her, that one has first claim. If a mother’s home becomes her daughter’s, her mate doesn’t have to provide one, but he may be obligated to his mate’s siblings. If the home becomes a son’s, he may owe his own siblings.”

  “I think I still have a lot to learn about the Zelandonii,” Ayla said, frowning at the thought.

  “And I still have a lot to learn about you, Ayla,” he said, reaching for her again. She was more than willing. He could feel himself wanting her as they kissed and could sense her responding to him.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  He went out and returned with their sleeping furs. He untied the rolls and spread them out on the platform. Wolf watched from the middle of the empty main room, then lifted his head and howled.

  “I think he’s feeling unsettled. He wants to know where he is supposed to sleep,” Ayla said.

  “I think I’d better go to my mother’s dwelling and get his bedding. Don’t go away,” Jondalar said, smiling at her. He returned quickly and set Ayla’s old clothing that was Wolf’s bedding and his feeding bowl by the entrance. The wolf sniffed at them, then circled around and curled up on them.

  Jondalar went to the woman who was still waiting by the fire, picked her up and carried her to the sleeping platform, and put her down on top of the furs. He began to slowly undress her, and she started to untie a cord to help.

  “No. I want to do it, Ayla. It would p
lease me,” he said.

  She put her hand down. He continued undressing her slowly, tenderly, then removed his own clothing and crawled in beside her. And gently, with exquisite tenderness, he made love to her half the night.

  The Cave quickly settled down into their usual routine. It was a glorious autumn. The grasses of the fields rippled in golden waves in the brisk wind, and trees near The River blazed with brilliant shades of yellows and reds. Bushes were heavy with ripe berries, apples were rosy but tart, waiting for the first frost to turn sweet, nuts were dropping from the trees. While the weather held, the days were filled with gathering the season’s bounty of fruits, nuts, berries, roots, and herbs. After the temperatures at night dropped below freezing, hunting parties went out regularly to stock up on a supply of fresh meat to supplement the dried meat from the summer hunting.

  During the warm days shortly after their return, storage pits were checked and new ones dug into the summer-softened soil so that they would be below the usual permafrost level, and lined with stones. The meat of fresh kills was cut up and left out overnight high on platforms, and away from prowling animals, to freeze. In the mornings it was put into the deep pits, which kept it from thawing out as the day warmed. Several such cold cellars were located near the Ninth Cave. Shallower root cellars, which kept fruit and vegetables cold but not frozen during the early part of the season, were dug as well. Later, as the freezing glacial winter progressed and the ground froze solid, the produce would be moved to the back of the abri.

  Salmon, making their way upstream, were netted and smoke-dried or frozen, as well as other varieties of fish caught by a method new to Ayla: the fish traps of the Fourteenth Cave. She had visited Little Valley while the fish were running, and Brameval had explained how the woven traps, which were weighted down, allowed fish to easily swim in them, but not back out. He had always been very friendly and pleasant to her. She was pleased to see Tishona and Marsheval, too. Though she hadn’t had the chance to get to know them as well during the Matrimonial, they still felt the tie of having mated at the same time.