Joharran was all over the campsite, urging people to hurry, offering suggestions, making sure everything was in readiness. When he was sure the Ninth Cave was packed and ready to go, he started out ahead of the rest, his spear held loosely, but it was more symbolic than necessary. They were traveling in the daytime with a large group, and as long as they stayed together, no four-legged hunter would come near them. Nonetheless, at the first sign of danger, Joharran could have his spear mounted in his spear-thrower and ready to fling in an instant. He had practiced with the weapon over the summer, and had gained some skill with it. There were half a dozen others designated to guard the flanks, with Solaban and Rushemar bringing up the rear. The job of guarding would be rotated among several others, who were, at the moment, helping to carry a rich summer bounty back to the Ninth Cave.
Ayla looked out over the camp of the Summer Meeting one last time before they left. Piles of bones and trash littered the small valley. Several of the Caves had already departed, leaving large empty spaces between the campsites of those that remained, with poles and log frames left standing, and black circles and rectangles that showed where sustaining fires had been. A tent that was too worn for further use had been left behind, and a torn edge of leather no longer attached to a pole was flapping in the wind, which was also blowing an old basket around. As she watched, another Cave's lodges were being torn down. The Summer Meeting camp had a desolate, abandoned look to it.
But the litter was of the earth and would soon decompose. By the next spring there would be little evidence remaining of the Caves that had summered here. The earth would heal from the invasion.
The trip back was arduous. The heavily loaded people trudged under their burdens and dropped into their beds exhausted at night.
Joharran set a brisk pace in the beginning, but slowed as they progressed to enable the weakest to keep up. But they all looked forward to going home and their spirits were high. The loads they carried represented survival during the harsh winter months ahead.
As they neared the abri of the Ninth Cave, the familiar landscape encouraged the people to hurry. They were eager to reach the shelter under the overhanging ledge of stone, and they pushed themselves so they would not have to spend another night outside. The first evening stars were winking on in the sky as the familiar cliff with the Falling Stone came into view. They crossed Wood River on the stepping-stones with some difficulty under the failing light with their cumbersome loads, then followed the path up to the front porch of their abri. When they finally reached the stone porch in front of the opening under the protecting shelf, it was nearly dark.
It was Joharran's job to make the first fire and light a torch to carry into the abri, and he was glad for the firestones. The fire was quickly started and the torch lit, then people waited impatiently while Zelandoni removed the small female figurine that had been set in front of their shelter to protect it. After they thanked the Great Mother for watching over their home in their absence, several more torches were lit. The Cave formed a procession behind the large woman as she put the donii back in its place behind the large hearth at the rear of the protected space, then everyone scattered to their own dwellings to gratefully drop off their loads.
The inevitable first chore was to inspect any damage that might have been wrought by marauding creatures while they were gone. There were a few animal droppings, some hearthstones had been disturbed, a basket or two had been knocked over, but the damage was minimal. Fires were lighted in the hearths inside, and provisions and stores were brought in. Sleeping furs were spread out on familiar sleeping benches. The Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii had returned home.
Ayla started toward Marthona's home, but Jondalar led her off in a different direction. Wolf followed. Holding a torch in one hand and her hand with the other, he guided her farther back into the abri toward another structure, one she didn't remember being there. Jondalar stopped in front of it, pulled aside the flap that covered the entrance, and motioned to her to go inside. "You sleep in your own dwelling tonight, Ayla," he said.
"My own dwelling?" she said, so overwhelmed that she could hardly speak. As she entered the dark interior, the wolf slipped in with her. Jondalar followed, holding up a torch so she could see.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
Ayla looked around. The inside was essentially bare, but there were shelves against one wall adjacent to the entrance and a platform built up at one end for sleeping furs. The floor was paved with smooth, flat sections of limestone from the nearby cliff, with hardened river clay between the spaces. A hearth was set up, and the niche directly opposite the entrance held a small fat female figure.
"My own home." She twirled around in the middle of the empty structure, her eyes sparkling. "A dwelling just for the two of us?" The wolf sat on his haunches and looked at her. This was a new place, but wherever Ayla was was home to him.
Jondalar's face was split by a ridiculous grin. "Or maybe the three of us," he said, patting her belly. "This place is still sort of empty."
"I love it. I just love it. It's beautiful, Jondalar."
He was so pleased by her delight, he felt tears welling up and had to do something to fend them off. He handed her the torch he still held. "Then you have to light the lamp, Ayla. It means you accept it. I have some rendered fat here. I carried it all the way from our last camp."
He reached under his tunic and withdrew a small pouch, warmed by his body heat, made of the cured bladder of a deer, encased in a slightly larger pouch made of its hide, with the fur side in. The bladder was nearly waterproof, although it did seep slightly over time, especially when warm. The second pouch was to absorb the minimal seepage, the fur adding an extra layer to soak up any grease that might permeate. The top of the bladder had been tied with sinew from a leg tendon around a vertebra from the spine of the deer, shaved of extraneous bone to a circular shape. The natural hole, which had once held a spinal cord, served as a pouring hole. It was stoppered by a leather thong tied several times into a knot that fit the hole.
Jondalar pulled the end of the thong to release the knot and poured some of the liquefied fat into a new stone lamp. He dipped one end of an absorbent wick made of lichen taken from the branches of trees at the Summer Meeting camp and placed it into the oil, then held a torch to it. It flared up instantly. When the fat was fully melted and hot, he took out a leaf-wrapped package of wicks that came from a porous fungus that had been cut into strips and dried. He liked using fungus wicks, with their capacity to burn longer and warmer illumination. He laid the wick from the middle of the shallow bowl to the rim and extended it a bit farther over the edge. Then he added a second and a third wick to the same lamp, so that one lamp could give the light of three.
Then he filled a second lamp and gave the torch to Ayla. She held the fire to the wick. It caught, sputtered, then settled down into a glowing light. He carried the lamp to the niche that held the donii and placed it front of the female figure. Ayla followed him. When he turned around, she looked up at the tall man.
"This dwelling is now yours, Ayla. If you allow me to light my hearth within it," Jondalar said, "any children born here will be born to my hearth. Will you allow it?"
"Yes. Of course," she said.
He took the torch from her and strode to the fireplace area, which was outlined with a circle of stones. Within it, wood had been set up, ready to light. He held the torch to the kindling and watched until the small wood set the larger pieces aflame. He did not want to take any chances that the fire would go out before it was well established. When he looked up, Ayla was looking at him with love in her eyes. He stood up and took her in his arms.