The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [130]
While everyone was quietly eating, Ayla found herself paying attention to her surroundings, using all her senses. The light from their lamps illuminated only a limited area around them. The rest of the cave was black, a rich, all-encompassing darkness that was never found outside even in the deepest gloom of night, but while she could not see beyond the glow of the small double fires in each of their lamps, if she tried she could hear the the soft mutterings of the cave.
She had seen that in some areas the ground and stones were fairly dry. Others glistened with shimmering wetness as water from rain and snow and melting runoff seeped slowly, with inestimable patience, through earth and limestone, accumulating calcareous residue on its way, and depositing it drop by drop to create the stone icicles above them and the rounded stumps of stone below. She could hear faint soft drips, both nearby and farther away. After time beyond measure, they joined into the pillars and walls and draperies that shaped the inside of the cave.
There were tiny scrabblings and chitterings of minute creatures, and an almost undetectable movement of air, a muted soughing that she had to strain to perceive. It was almost drowned out by the noise of the breathing of the five living beings who had entered the silent space. She tried to smell the air and opened her mouth to sample it. It felt moist with a slight decaying taste of raw earth and ancient seashells compressed into limestone.
After their meal, Zelandoni said, “There is something I’d like you to see in this small tunnel. We can leave the packs here and pick them up on the way back, but each of us should carry a lamp.”
They all found a private corner to pass water and relieve themselves first. Ayla held the baby out to let her pass her wastes as well and cleaned her with some soft fresh moss she had brought with her. Then she used the carrying blanket to hold Jonayla on her hip, picked up one of the limestone lamps, and followed Zelandoni into the passageway that split off toward the left. The woman started singing again. Both Ayla and Jondalar were becoming familiar with the echoing timbre of the tone that informed them they were near a sacred site, a place that was closer to the Other World.
When Zelandoni stopped, she was looking at the right wall. They followed her gaze and saw two mammoths facing each other. Ayla thought they were particularly remarkable, and wondered what all the different placements of mammoths in this cave meant. Since they were created so long ago that no one knew who made them, or even the Cave or the People to whom the artists belonged, it wasn’t likely that anyone would know, but she couldn’t resist asking.
“Do you know why the mammoths are facing each other, Zelandoni?”
“Some people think they are fighting,” the woman said. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think so,” Ayla said.
“Why not?” the First said.
“They don’t look fierce or angry. They seem to be having a meeting,” Ayla said.
“What do you think, Jondalar?” Zelandoni asked.
“I don’t think they are fighting, or planning to fight,” he said. “Maybe they just happened to meet.”
“Do you think whoever put them there would go to the trouble if they just happened to meet?” the First asked.
“No, probably not,” he said.
“Maybe each mammoth represents the leader of a group of people who are coming together to make a decision about something important,” Ayla said. “Or perhaps they have made the decision and this commemorates it.”
“That’s one of the more interesting ideas