The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [118]
“I’m sure you were. I would have been, too. I think my day was much less exciting than yours,” Jondalar said as they began skinning the wolverine. He made a cut through the pelt down the left hind leg to the belly cut Ayla had made earlier.
“Did you find flint in the cave today?” Ayla asked, making a similar cut down the left foreleg.
“There’s a lot there. It’s not the finest quality, but it’s serviceable, especially for practice,” Jondalar said. “Do you remember Matagan? The boy who was gored in the leg by the rhino last year? The one whose leg you fixed?”
“Yes. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, but I saw him. He walks with a limp, but he seems to get around fine,” she said, making a cut in the right front leg, while Jondalar worked on the right hind leg.
“I talked to him and to his mother and her mate, and some others from their cave. If it’s agreeable to Joharran and the Cave—and I can’t imagine why anyone would object—he’s going to come and live at the Ninth Cave at the end of summer. I’m going to show him how to knap flint, and see if he has any talent or inclination for it,” Jondalar said. Then, looking up, “Do you want to save the feet?”
“Those are sharp claws, but I don’t know what I’d use them for,” Ayla said.
“You can always trade them. I’m sure they’d make good decorations, for a necklace, or sewn on a tunic. The teeth, too, for that matter. And what do you want to do with this gorgeous tail?” Jondalar said.
“I think I’ll keep the tail along with the pelt,” Ayla said, “but I may trade the claws and the teeth … or maybe I could use a claw as a hole-maker.”
They cut off the feet, breaking through the joints and cutting the tendons, then pulled the furry skin off the right side to the backbone, using their hands to tear it off more than their knives. They balled up fists to break through the membrane between the body and the hide as they got to the meatier part of the legs. Then they turned it over and started on the left side.
Talking as they worked, they continued separating the hide from the carcass by pulling and tearing, wanting to make as few cuts in the skin as possible. “Where will Matagan stay? Does he have any family at the Ninth Cave?” Ayla asked.
“No, he doesn’t. We haven’t decided yet where he should stay.”
“He’ll miss his home, especially at first. We have a lot of room, Jondalar; he could stay with us,” Ayla said.
“I was thinking of that, and was going to ask if you’d mind. We’d have to rearrange some things, give him his own sleeping space, but that might be the best place for him. I could work with him, watch what he does, see how much interest he shows. No point in making him work at it if he doesn’t like it, but I wouldn’t mind having an apprentice,” Jondalar said. “And with his bad leg, it would be a good skill for him to learn.”
They had to use their knives more to release the skin from the backbone and around the shoulders, where it was tight and the membrane between the meat and the skin was not as defined. Then they had to remove the head. With Jondalar holding the animal taut, Ayla found where the head met the neck and swiveled easily, then cut through the meat to the bone. With a twist, a quick break, and a cut through membranes and tendons, the head was off, and the pelt was free.
Jondalar held up the luxuriant hide, and they admired the thick, beautiful fur. With his help, skinning the wolverine had been short work. Ayla recalled the first time that he had helped her cut up a kill, when they were living in the valley where she found her horse, and he was still recovering from being mauled by the lion. It had come as a surprise to her not only that he was willing, but that he was able. Men of the Clan didn’t do that kind of work, they