I had never thought of myself as spiritually inclined. But I began to think about all the things that we take for granted. I wished that I had paid more heed to things that Old Mamut said. We--all of the Mamutoi--lost a great deal of wisdom when that ancient man left us. Sharnev, who came to serve us in Mut's name until someone could be found to take the position permanently, is very dedicated and devout. He did his best to console me, and gradually the truth of his words began to sink in. I looked inside myself as he advised. At first, there was only emptiness.
All around me lay the vast, windblown steppe. Here and there the land was broken by hills and weathered outcroppings of rock, or dipped into low swales or narrow valleys cut by streams and rivers. Like the face of a old woman, that of the Mother is worn by time and weather. I trod upon it beneath Her smiling blue sky, half lost in my thoughts yet with an ingrained awareness that kept me from making fatal missteps. Of course I paid attention to landmarks as well, since I wanted to be able to find my way back.
The pride of cave lions gave me fair warning of its presence; I heard the mighty roar of the male from far off. I approached within seeing distance, however, before altering my course. They were clustered about the remains of an aurochs. Their den must have been somewhere near in the craggy rocks beyond. I gave them plenty of space, and it looked as if they would ignore me. Then the male rose and made as if to follow. My heart sunk, and suddenly I realized how badly I wanted to return to my children. What price would they pay for my curiosity?
He only watched me for a while, pacing along parallel to my track. At last he gave a roar that faded into a series of grunts, and turned away to rejoin his pride. I walked on, not daring to stop lest my legs start to shake.
That lion was the biggest I had ever seen. Not only that, but I was fairly certain I had seen him before. The size and the reddish mane, along with the rather unusual behavior, made me think that it must be Ayla's lion. He must have returned to his old territory. I had no desire to make any closer aquaintance with him!
The afternoon of that day was growing old when I beheld a refreshing sight: a lush valley nestled between cliffs cut from the sloping edge of a broad, low plateau. Above, the dry steppes fading already toward summer's gold; below, a sparkling river flanked by trees that grew to an impressive height in the shelter of the cliffs. It was Ayla's valley.
I walked along the cliff hoping to find a way down before it got too dark. When most of the Lion Camp visited this place on a search for firestones, we took the easy way around the cliffs, but I knew that there were a number of possible routes. I removed my backpack and let it down with my rope passed through a strap and doubled. It reached far enough to let the pack rest on a ledge while I pulled the rope back. I tied the coiled rope to my belt, and clambered down a rough ladder of cracked stone, half wedged into a vertical gap for most of the way. When I got to my pack, I again lowered it with the rope. Mut knows I had no idea that the rope would ever be useful on my journey, but Tornec had insisted that I take it. I owed him for that.
I had barely started the second leg of the climb when I heard a horrid sound--the whooping call of a hyena. The insane laughter echoed from side to side of the valley until I had no idea where it came from. My spears were tied to my pack--I hastened down as best I could without risking my life in a fall.
There was some other predator involved; a wolf, I thought, by the yelps and snarls. Because of the echoes it was hard to tell how many of anything there was. Now that I had my feet on solid--though uneven and brushy--ground and could concentrate, I could tell that the din came from upstream, somewhere in the vicinity of the cave. Leaving my pack hung as high as I could reach on one of the dead lower limbs of a pine tree, I slung a quiver of spears over my shoulder and headed that way.
The furious melee spun in and out of the mouth of the cave that had once been Ayla's home. At first I only caught glimpses of the battling creatures. Heedless of my clothing, I waded into the river to get a better view and aim. My first spear struck one of the hyenas nearly dead center, causing it to spin about, biting vainly at the spear. The second throw only grazed one of them, but my third spear flew true, entering the ribcage from behind. The hyena leaped and staggered, blood suddenly spewing from its mouth.
There was at least one more of the filthy things alive. I could hear it battling with the other animal. The river was no higher than my hips here, so I continued across. Both of the hyenas I had speared well were dead by the time I got to the path up to the ledge. Spring rains had washed out part of the gravelly slope, but it was still easy enough for an unburdened man to climb. No more sound came from inside the cave. I approached cautiosly.
The sun, low in the west, threw good light into the cave. Blood was spattered everywhere. One small blood-soaked corpse lay at my feet--a very young wolf cub. Farther back, something moved slightly and whimpered.
I held a spear in either hand. There was too little space in this cave to throw if anything attacked. But the last hyena was dead too. It lay in a pool of its own blood and that of the wolf that had given her life in vain to save her cubs. Another little wolf struggled feebly to breathe, its ribs crushed by hyena jaws. Part of yet another lay nearby. I felt devastated, as if I had somehow let them down by arriving too late. The wolf mother must have been a loner, with no other pack members to help her guard her young. Only their late birth had allowed her to keep them in good condition until this tragic end, I supposed.
There was nothing to do but clean out the cave. It was a special place to all of us who knew Ayla. I couldn't allow it to be defiled by the rotting bodies of hyenas. The wolves, I considered burying--after knowing Ayla's friend, who had put his trust in me even when I was so unworthy, it was hard not to think of them as almost human.
First, though, I wanted to get my pack before some hungry wolverine found it. Once I had made my camp on the beach a short way upstream and gathered a good quantity of extra firewood, I went back to the cave with one lit torch and an armload of spares.
In the end, I decided that it was best to consign the bodies to the river. The water spirits would sort things out. It was a sad task. Tomorrow I would try to clean out the cave more thoroughly. Before leaving it, I decided to use up my last torch taking a look into the farthest back part of the cave. I leaned into the deep niche that the wolf had used as a temporary den, once the home of Baby, the cave lion.
There were still old bones back there, and some blood shed by the wolf near the entrance. I thought I saw something move. My torch was nearly spent.
I was tired and needed to bathe, but I went back to my camp, added wood to the fire, and prepared another hand of torches. On my return to the deep niche, I felt foolish. I paused of the broad ledge in front of the cave and looked up at the stars. So many hearths. If the hearths of the unborn are there as well as those of our ancestors, there must be many generations yet unborn. The Earth would endure for an unimaginably long time. Now I felt not only foolish, but very small and ephemeral. Go ahead, laugh at me, you uncountable spirits...
My tired eyes raked the small back cave. Nothing but bones, and old dirt freshly scuffled by wolf-paws. No! Something glinted behind a lion skull. A shiny stone? But when I moved the torch there was no sparkle there. Maybe I was seeing things, but I had to know. "Mut guard me," I whispered, and crawled through the gap.
There was nothing behind the lion skull, but I heard a whisper of movement and a clatter of bone falling off to my left. Lighting another torch, I crept slowly in that direction. There it was--a frightened bundle of grey fluff with blue baby eyes. One cub lived after all. Blood stained its fur; I couldn't tell whether it was injured or had been stained with its mother's blood.
"Ah now, little one, don't be afraid," I said, speaking softly and steadily. I kept talking, moving slowly. Then it occurred to me that the torch must be frightening it even more than me. I set that torch and another freshly lit one among the bones, propping them upright, and went back to stalking my infant prey.
With a great deal of faking and feinting, I bluffed the tiny predator into a corner where it couldn't scuttle away from my hands. I grasped it gently--too gently at first, it wriggled and bit me with sharp little teeth, nearly escaping. But I persisted, and finally held it against my chest. With my arms around it, the little wolf seemed to feel more secure, or else it was just too tired to fight any more. It lay still while I walked out of the cave into the starlit night.
Making my way with great care down the washed-out path, I took the wolf to my camp and brought it inside my tent. Now... it would want something to hide in. If it felt safe, it wouldn't run out and get lost... My pack would do. Keeping the wolf cub snuggled in the crook of my left arm, I yanked the pack open and made a den of it. Then I held the wolf by the opening. It went in.
I considered trying to tie the pack shut so that the little one could not escape, but it was not made for that sort of thing. I decided to trust in fate for a while. Sweat of travel overlaid with blood and filth covered me. A quick dip in the river, and then I would see what could be done about feeding my little friend.
"You stay here now," I said to the hiding cub as if it could understand me. "I'll be back very soon."