The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [273]
As she drew closer and looked at the cave bear skull perched on the flat stone, with its two huge canine teeth extended over the edge, in her heart she believed that the Ancient who had put it there belonged to the Clan. Jondalar had seen her shake, and walked toward the center of the space. When he reached the stone, and saw the cave bear skull on the rock, he understood her reaction.
“Are you all right, Ayla?” he asked.
“This cave would have meant so much to the Clan,” she said. “I can’t help but think they knew about it. With their memories, maybe they still do.”
The rest of them were now crowded around the stone with the skull.
“I see you have found the skull. I was going to show it to you,” the Watcher said.
“Do any of the people of the Clan come here?” Ayla asked.
“The people of the Clan?” the Watcher said, shaking her head.
“The ones you call Flatheads. The other people,” Ayla said.
“It’s strange that you should ask,” the Watcher said. “We do see Flatheads around here, but only at certain times of year, usually. They frighten the children, but we have come to a kind of understanding, if you can reach an understanding with animals. They stay away from us, and we don’t bother them if all they want is to go into the cave.”
“First I should tell you, they aren’t animals; they are people. The cave bear is their primary totem—they call themselves the Clan of the Cave Bear,” Ayla said.
“How can they call themselves anything? They don’t talk,” the Watcher said.
“They talk. They just don’t talk the way we do. They use some words, but mostly they talk with their hands,” Ayla said.
“How does one talk with hands?”
“They make gestures, motions with their hands and with their bodies,” Ayla said.
“I don’t understand,” the Watcher said.
“I’ll show you,” Ayla said, handing her torch to Jondalar. “The next time you see a person of the Clan who wants to go into this cave, you could say this.” Then she said the words as she made the gestures. “I would greet you, and I would tell you that you are welcome to visit this cave that is home to cave bears.”
“Those motions, those hand wavings, they mean what you just said?” the Watcher asked.
“I’ve been teaching the Ninth Cave and our zelandonia, and anyone else who wants to learn,” Ayla said, “how to make a few basic signs, so if they meet some people of the Clan when they are traveling, they can communicate, at least a little. I’ll be happy to show you some signs, too, but it would probably be better if we wait until we get out of the cave where there is more light.”
“I would like to see more, but how do you know so much?” the Watcher asked.
“I lived with them. They raised me. My mother, and whoever she was with—my people, I suppose—died in an earthquake. I was left alone. I wandered by myself until a clan found me and took me in. They took care of me, loved me, and I loved them back,” Ayla said.
“You don’t know who your people are?” the Watcher said.
“My people are the Zelandonii, now. Before that, my people were the Mamutoi, the mammoth hunters, and before that, my people were the Clan, but I don’t remember the people I was born to,” Ayla explained.
“I see,” the Watcher said. “I would like to know more, but now we still have more of this cave to see.”
“You are right,” the First said. Once it came up, she had been interested in how this Zelandoni would react to the information that Ayla brought. “Let’s continue.”
While Ayla had been thinking about the bear skull on the stone, the Watcher had shown the others more of the section they were in. Ayla noticed