The Land of Painted Caves (46 page)

They turned around a bend and the raft suddenly slowed, though the river spilled just as rapidly down around them, as the bottom of the watercraft scraped along a section of the river that flowed downhill across the smooth stone of barely submerged solid rock. This was the most difficult part of the river to navigate on their return, having to pole up the shallow, steep riverbed. Sometimes they got out of the river and carried the raft around the place. Coming off the rock, they skidded down through a small waterfall at the side and ended up in a notch in the rock wall to the left, a backflowing eddy holding them in place. They were floating but they were trapped, unable to continue downstream.

“This happens sometimes, though it hasn’t for a while,” said the woman controlling the rudder. Shenora was holding it up out of the water now, and had been since they started round the bend. “We have to push away from the wall, but it can be difficult. It’s hard to swim out of here, too. If you got off the raft now, the water could grab you and pull you down. We need to get out of this back eddy. The second raft will be here soon, and they could help us, but they might run into us and get caught, too.”

The man with the pole put his bare feet into the cracks between the logs of the raft for traction, to keep them from slipping, then pushed at the cliff wall with his pole, straining to make the raft move. The one with the oar was also trying to help push against the wall, although the handles of the paddles were shorter and not as strong. They could bend or break at the connection between the antler paddle and the wood handle.

“I think you need another pole or two,” Willamar said, moving toward the poler with a long, thin log from one of Ayla’s pole-drags. Jonokol was behind him with another.

Even with three men pushing, it took some effort to get them away from the back-eddy trap, but eventually they were into the current again. Once they were floating freely, the poler guided them to a jutting rock, and with him using his pole and the others using the paddle and rudder, they held the raft in place. “I think we should wait here and see how the second raft comes through,” he said. This is more treacherous than usual.”

“Good idea,” Willamar said. “I’ve got a couple of young traders on that raft, whom I’d rather not lose.”

As they spoke, the second raft appeared around the bend, and was slowed down by the submerged rock riverbed as the first raft had been, but the current had pushed them a little farther out from the wall and they managed to avoid getting caught in the back eddy. Once they saw that the second raft was clear, the first raft started out again. There was still some rough water ahead, and in one place the raft behind them bumped into a jutting rock and started into a spin, but they managed to get out of it.

Zelandoni held on to her rope handles again as she felt the raft lift on a surging wave and then dive down into rushing water. It happened a few more times before they came to another bend in the river. Beyond that, suddenly, The River was calm, and on the left bank was a nice sandy level beach and a small dock of sorts. The raft headed toward it, and when they got close, one of the paddlers threw a loop of rope that was attached to the raft around a pole anchored sturdily into the ground at the edge of the river. The second paddler threw another rope, and between them they pulled the raft up close to the small dock at the shore.

“We should get off here and wait for the others. Besides, I need a rest,” the man with the pole said.

“Yes, you do, we all do,” the First said.

The second raft appeared as the ones who arrived first got off. The people from the first raft helped to tie the second log platform to the small dock and its passengers gladly got off to take a rest. A little later, Ayla and Jondalar and their menagerie came around the back edge of the cliff they had just passed. Getting caught in the backwater eddy had slowed the rafts down, giving the horses time to catch up.

They all greeted each other enthusiastically, glad to see that everyone was safe. Then a man of the Eleventh Cave started a fire in a pit that had obviously been used before. Rocks that were smooth and rounded from being tumbled around by The River had been collected earlier and piled near the edge of the stream to dry out. Dry rocks heated faster when put in the fire, and were less dangerous. Moisture trapped within rocks could cause them to explode when exposed to the heat of a fire. Water was drawn from The River and put in two cooking bowls and a kerfed box. When the hot cobbles were added to the water they produced a cloud of steam amid a welling up of bubbles. Additional rocks brought the water to cooking temperature.

Traveling by water was much faster, but they weren’t able to forage for food along the way when they were on The River, so they used the food they brought with them. Various leaves for tea went into the kerfed box; dried meat made a flavorful base for soup and it went into one large bowl, along with dried vegetables and some of the roasted megaceros from the night before. In the second bowl, dried fruits were added to the hot water to soften them. It was a quick lunch so they could get back on the rafts and finish their water journey before it got dark.

   Toward the mouth of The River, many small tributaries were adding to the size of the stream, and to the turbulence, but the water was never again as rough as it had been going through the whitewater rapids. They followed the left bank south until they came in sight of Big River; then as The River delta widened at the mouth, the Eleventh Cave river rafters kept the craft toward the middle of the waterway until it carried them into Big River. The conflicting currents of the two rivers had built up a bar, a ridge of sand and silt, that added another precarious aspect to their ride when they crossed over it. Then, suddenly they were in a much larger body of water, with a strong current carrying them toward the Great Waters. The pole was of little value now. The man using it picked up a second oar that had been tied down near the edge. The two men with oars of megaceros antlers and Shenora, the woman who controlled the rudder, had the job of getting them across the fast-flowing river. She pulled the rudder over as far as it would go to steer it toward the opposite shore, while the rowers worked to guide the lumbering craft. The second raft followed them.

The horses and wolf swam across somewhat more directly. They continued along the shore, keeping the raft in sight as it angled toward land. As they rode downstream, Jondalar remembered with fondness the boats used by the Sharamudoi who lived beside the Great Mother River. They lived so far downstream of the long and significant watercourse that it had become quite wide and swift, but the boats they used skimmed across the water. Small ones could be controlled by a single person using a double-ended paddle. Jondalar had learned to use one, though he’d had a mishap or two in the process. Large ones could be used to carry goods and people, though they also needed more than one person using oars to propel them, but they had much greater control.

He thought about how the boats were made. They started with a large log, dug out the center, using hot coals and stone knives, shaped both ends into a point, and stretched the log with steam to make it wider in the middle. Then planks, known as strakes, were added to the sides to enlarge the watercraft, attached with wooden pegs and leather ties. He had helped them build such a boat when he and Thonolan were living with them.

“Ayla, remember the boats of the Sharamudoi?” Jondalar said. “I think we could make one—at least I’d like to try—a small one, to show the Eleventh Cave. I have tried to explain the boats to them, but it’s hard to make it clear. I think if I made a small boat, they’d get the idea.”

“If you want me to help you, I’ll be happy to,” Ayla said. “We could also make one of those round bowl boats that the Mamutoi used to make. We made one on our Journey here. It held a lot of things when we attached it to Whinney’s pole-drag, especially when we had to cross rivers.” Then she frowned. “But sometimes Zelandoni might need me.”

“I know,” he said. “If you can help me, I’d appreciate it, but don’t worry about it. Maybe I can get my apprentices to help. The bowl boats can be useful, but I think I’ll try to make one of those small Sharamudoi boats first. It will take longer, but it’ll be easier to control, and it would give us an opportunity to develop effective knives to make those kinds of boats. If the Eleventh Cave likes it as well as I think they will, I’m sure I can trade the boat for a future use of their rafts, and if they decide to make more boats, they might want to use knives especially designed for carving out the inside of logs, and I could make future trades for many trips on the river.”

Ayla thought about the way Jondalar’s mind worked, the way he was always thinking ahead, especially to gain some benefit for the future. She knew he was very conscientious about taking care of her and Jonayla, and she knew the Zelandonii concept of status was also involved in some way. It was important to him and he was very aware of what needed to be done in any given situation to achieve it. His mother, Marthona, was like that too, and he had obviously learned from her. Ayla understood the notion of status; it had been perhaps of even greater consequence to the Clan, but to her it didn’t seem so crucial. Though she had gained status among various people, it always seemed to be something that came to her; she had never had to strive for it, and she wasn’t sure if she would know how to.

The current carried the rafts quite some distance downstream before they were able to reach the other side. By then the sun was getting low in the west, and everyone was relieved when both rafts reached the far shore. While camp was being set up, Willamar’s two young apprentice traders, along with Jondalar and Wolf, left to see if they could find anything to hunt. They still had some venison from the megaceros, but it wouldn’t last too much longer and they wanted to look for fresh meat.

Soon after they started out, they saw a lone bull bison, but it saw them first and ran off too quickly for them to follow. Wolf flushed out a couple of nesting ptarmigans, resplendent in summer plumage. Jondalar got one with his spear-thrower, Tivonan missed with his spear-thrower, and Palidar didn’t get his set up fast enough. One ptarmigan wasn’t going to feed many people, but Jondalar retrieved it. It was going to be dark soon; they didn’t have much time to look for anything else, so they headed back toward camp.

Then Jondalar heard a yelp and quickly turned to see Wolf trying to hold a young bull bison at bay. It was smaller than the one they had first seen, and it was likely that it had only recently left the maternal herd to roam with the bachelors, which grouped in looser, smaller herds at this time of year. Jondalar’s spear was in his thrower in an instant, and Palidar was more ready this time. As the men closed in for the kill, Tivonan managed to get his spear-thrower armed as well.

The inexperienced young bison had been concentrating on the wolf, whom he instinctively feared, and wasn’t paying much attention to the bipedal predators, for whom he had no instinctive sense, and no familiarity, but with three of them closing in, he had little chance. Jondalar, who was the most proficient spear-thrower, cast his spear the instant after it was mounted on the thrower. The other two men took a little more time to aim. Palidar cast the lightweight spear with the thrower next, quickly followed by Tivonan. All three spears hit their mark and brought the animal down. The young men let out a whoop; then each of the young traders grabbed a front leg by the hoof, and began skidding the bison toward camp. He would supply enough meat for several meals for all fourteen adults, plus the wolf, who certainly deserved a share for his part in hunting the animal.

“That wolf can be a real help sometimes,” Palidar said, smiling at the wolf with the ear that was cocked at an odd angle. It made Wolf recognizable, distinguished him from any wild canines that happened to be in his area, but Palidar knew why it was that way and it hadn’t been an occasion to smile. He was the one who had come upon the site of the wolf fight, which included a lot of blood, a badly torn-up dead female, and the body of one animal that Wolf had managed to kill. Palidar skinned it, thinking he could use the fur to decorate a carrying pouch or spear quiver, but when he went to visit his friend Tivonan to show him his find, Wolf picked up the scent of the wolf and attacked the young man. Even Ayla had trouble getting the four-legged hunter away from Palidar; the fact that Wolf was still weak from his injuries helped.

The Ninth Cave had never seen Wolf attack a person, and it came as a surprise to them, but Ayla noticed the piece of wolf fur sewn onto Palidar’s spear-holder, and when he told her where he obtained it, she put the story together. She asked him for the piece of fur and gave it to Wolf, who bit and tore and shook the thing until it was shredded to bits. It was almost funny to watch him, but not to Palidar, who was glad he hadn’t come upon Wolf when he was alone. He took Ayla to the place where he found the fur, which was much farther than she had imagined. She was surprised at the distance Wolf had dragged himself to reach her, but she was grateful that he had.

She told Palidar what she thought had happened. She knew Wolf had found a lone female wolf companion and guessed they were trying to cut out a piece of territory for themselves, but obviously the local pack was too big and too well entrenched, and Wolf and his she-wolf too young. Wolf had another disadvantage. He had never play-fought with litter mates and, beyond instinct, he didn’t know how to fight wolves.

Wolf’s mother was a female who had come into heat at the wrong time of year and was driven out of her pack by the alpha female. She happened to meet an elderly male who had left his pack, not able to keep up anymore. He felt invigorated for a while, having a young female to himself, but he died before the winter was out, leaving her to raise her litter alone when most mother wolves would have had the help of a whole pack.

When Ayla had rescued him, Wolf was barely four weeks old and the last survivor of her litter, but that was the age when a mother wolf would normally have brought her cubs out of their birthing den to imprint on the wolf pack. Instead Wolf imprinted on the human pack of Mamutoi, with Ayla as his alpha mother. He didn’t know his canine siblings—he wasn’t raised with other wolf cubs. He was raised by Ayla along with the children of the Lion Camp. Since a wolf pack and a human family group have many characteristics in common, he adapted to living with people.