The Land of Painted Caves

He had a good voice, but he didn't sing except when others did. Then with the voices making a background chorus that resonated inside the stone cave that was so beautifully decorated, the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother began where she had left off with the Mother's Song.

And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,The thief who held captive the child of Her breast.Together they fought for the son She adored.Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored.His energy burned. His brilliance returned. But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat.The Mother defended and would not retreat.The whirlwind pulled hard, She refused to let go.She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe.She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away. When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee,The light from Her son glowed with vitality.When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway,And darkness returned at the end of the day.She felt warmth from Her son. But neither had won. The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,That She and Her son were forever apart.She ached for the child that had been denied,So She quickened once more from the life force inside.She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child.When She was ready, Her waters of birth,Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth.And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled,Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled.Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen.With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,And from the great cave that opened deep under,She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb.From the Mother forlorn, more children were born. Each child was different, some were large and some small,Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl.But each form was perfect, each spirit complete,Each one was a model whose shape could repeat.The Mother was willing. The green earth was filling. All the birds and the fish and the animals born,Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn.Each kind would live near the place of its birth,And share the expanse of the Great Mother Earth.Close to Her they would stay. They could not run away. They all were her children, they filled Her with prideBut they used up the life force She carried inside.She had enough left for a last innovation,A child who'd remember Who made the creation.A child who'd respect. And learn to protect. First Woman was born full grown and alive,And given the Gifts she would need to survive.Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,She woke to herself knowing life had great worth.First Woman defined. The first of her kind. Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning,The desire to know, the Gift of Discerning.First Woman was given the knowledge within,That would help her to live, and pass on to her kin.First Woman would know, How to learn, how to grow. Her life force near gone, The Mother was spent,To pass on Life's Spirit had been Her intent.She caused all of Her children to create life anew,And Woman was blessed to bring forth life, too.But Woman was lonely. She was the only.The Mother remembered Her own loneliness,The love of Her friend and his hovering caress.With the last spark remaining, Her labour began,To share life with Woman, She created First Man.Again She was giving. One more was living. To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,The water, the land, and all Her creation.To use them with care was their obligation.It was their home to use, But not to abuse. For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing,That honours the Mother with the joy of their pairing.The Gifts are well earned, When honour's returned. The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,She taught them to love and to care when they mated.She made them desire to join with each other,The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.Before She was through, Her children loved too.Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.

The silence was profound when they finished. Each person standing there felt the power of the Mother and the Mother's Song, more than they ever had. They looked at the paintings again and were more conscious of the animals that seemed to be emerging from the cracks and shadows of the cave, as though the Mother was creating them, giving birth to them, bringing them from the Other World, the spirit world, the Mother's great underworld.

Then they heard a sound that sent a chill through them, the mewling of a lion cub. It changed to the sounds a young lion made when it called for its mother, then to the first attempts of a young male lion trying to roar, and finally the huffing and grunting that led up to a full blown roar of a male lion claiming his own.

'How does she do that?' the Watcher asked. 'It sounds like a lion going through stages of growth. How does she know that?'

'She raised a lion, took care of him when he was growing up, and taught him to hunt with her,' Jondalar said, 'and roared with him.'

'Did she tell you that?' the Watcher asked, a hint of doubt in her tone.

'Well, yes, sort of. He came back to visit her when I was healing in her valley, but he didn't like seeing me there, and attacked. Ayla stepped in front of me and he twisted himself around and stopped cold. Then she rolled around on the ground and hugged him, and got on his back and rode him, like she does Whinney. Except I don't think he would go where she wanted, only where he wanted to take her. He did bring her back, though. Then, after I asked her, she told me,' Jondalar said.

His story was straightforward enough to be convincing. The Watcher just shook her head. 'I think we should all light new torches,' she said. 'There should be at least one left for each of us, and I have some lamps, too.'

'I think we should wait with the torches until we all get back out of this corridor,' Willamar said.

'Yes, you're right,' Jonokol said. 'Will you hold mine?' he said to the Watcher.

Jonokol, Jondalar, Ayla, and Willamar literally lifted the First up some of the bigger drops, while the Watcher held up the torches to light the way. She threw one that had burned to almost nothing into one of the hearths that were lined up against the walls. When they reached the painted horses, everyone took a new torch. The Watcher stubbed out the ones that were partially burned and put them back in her backframe; then they started back the way they had come. No one said much, just looked again at the animals as they passed by. Before they reached the entrance they noticed how much light found its way deeper into the cave.

At the entrance, Jonokol stopped. 'Will you take me back into the large area in that other room?'

'Of course,' she said without asking why. She knew.

'I'd like to go with you, Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave,' Ayla said.

'I'm glad. I'd like you to. You can hold my torch,' he said with a grin.

She was the one who found the White Cave, and he was the first one she showed it to. She knew he was going to paint on those beautiful walls, although he might want some helpers. The three of them went back into the second room of the Bear Cave while the rest went out. The Watcher took them in a shorter way, and she knew where to take him, to the place where he had looked when they first went into this part of the cave. He found the secluded recess, and the ancient concretion he had seen before.

Taking out a flint knife, he went to the basin-topped stalagmite and in its base, in one accomplished movement, he carved the forehead, nose, mouth, jaw, and cheek, then two stronger lines for the mane and back of a horse. He looked at it a moment, then engraved the head of a second horse facing the opposite way on top of the first one. The stone of this one was a little harder to cut through, and the forehead line was not as precise, but he went back and cut individual hairs of a stand-up mane spaced at consistent intervals. Then he stepped back and looked.

'I wanted to add to this cave, but I wasn't sure if I should until after the First sang the Mother's Song deep in this cave,' the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii said.

'I told you it was the Mother's choice, and you would know. Now I know. It was appropriate,' the Watcher said.

'It was the right thing to do,' Ayla said. 'Perhaps it is time for me to stop calling you Jonokol and start referring to you as the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth.'

'Perhaps in public, but between us I hope I will always be Jonokol and you will be Ayla,' he said.

'I would like that,' Ayla said; then she turned to the Watcher. 'In my mind I think of your name as the Watcher, as the one who watches over, but if you don't mind, I would like to know the name you were born with.'

'I was called Dominica,' she said, 'and I will always think of you as Ayla no matter what happens, even if you become the First.'

Ayla shook her head. 'That is not likely. I am a foreigner with a strange accent.'

'It doesn't matter,' Dominica said. 'We acknowledge the First, even if we don't know her or him. And I like your accent. I think it makes you stand out, as the One Who Is First should.' Then she led them back out of the cave.

All that evening Ayla thought about the remarkable cave. There had been so much to see, to take in, it made her wish she could see it again. People were talking that evening about what to do with Gahaynar, and she kept