The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [169]
Some things were still around. Ayla found a log with a trough dug out of it that had obviously been used to hold liquid, but she decided to use their own utensils to make tea and soup. She gathered some wood and, using an existing black depression filled with charcoal, started a fire and added cooking stones to heat water. Some logs and chunks of limestone had been dragged close to the fireplace by previous occupants, and Zelandoni took the stuffed pads from her travois and placed them around to make the seating more comfortable. Ayla nursed, then put Jonayla down on her blanket on the grass while she ate, and watched the baby fall asleep.
“Do you want to come along, Jondalar?” Zelandoni asked when they had finished. “You probably haven’t seen it since you were a boy and made your mark inside.”
“Yes, I think I will,” he said.
Nearly everyone made a mark on the walls of this cave at some time, occasionally more than once, although the males of the community were usually children or young adolescents when they made theirs. He remembered the first time he went inside by himself. It was a simple cave with no passages leading off to get lost in, and youngsters were allowed to find their own way. Generally, they went in alone or at most in pairs to make their own private marks, whistling or humming or chanting along the way until the walls seemed to answer back. The marks and engravings did not symbolize or represent names; they were a way that people told the Great Earth Mother about themselves, how they defined themselves to Her. Often they only made finger tracings. It was enough.
After they finished their meal, Ayla wrapped her infant securely to her back and they each lit a lamp and started into the cave, Zelandoni in front and Wolf bringing up the rear. Jondalar recalled that the left cave felt exceedingly long—it was more than eight hundred feet deep, winding through the limestone—and that the beginning of the fissure was fairly easy to enter, and unremarkable. Only a few markings on the walls near the entrance indicated that someone had been there before.
“Why don’t you use your bird whistles to speak to the Mother, Ayla,” the First said.
Ayla had heard the woman humming, not loudly but very melodically, and hadn’t expected to be asked. “If you would like me to,” she said, and began a series of bird calls, the ones she thought of as softer evening sounds.
About four hundred feet from the entrance, halfway in, the cave narrowed and the sounds resonated differently. That was where the drawings started. From this point on, the walls were covered with drawings of every kind. The two walls of the winding subterranean passage were marked with almost uncountable, often undecipherably superimposed and intermingled engravings. Some were isolated and many that could be interpreted were very well made. Adult women frequented the cave most often and, consequently, the more accomplished, refined engravings were usually made by them.
Horses predominated, shown at rest and with lively movement, even galloping. Bison were also very prevalent, but there were many other animals: reindeer, mammoths, ibex, bears, cats, wild asses, deer, woolly rhinoceroses, wolves, foxes, and at least one saiga antelope, hundreds of engravings in all. Some were very unusual, like the mammoth with its trunk curled back; the head of a lion that utilized a naturally embedded stone for the eye was strikingly rendered; and a reindeer bending down to drink was outstanding for its beauty and realism, as were the two reindeer facing each other. The walls were fragile and didn’t lend themselves well to painting, but were easy to mark and engrave, even with fingers.
There were also many parts of human figures, including