The Land of Painted Caves by Jean M. Auel Page A

you learn from a cave lion?”
    “How to face my fears, for one thing,” she said. “I think you have learned to do the same. Your Wolf totem may have helped you without your knowing it.”
    “Perhaps, but how would you know if you have been helped by a totem? Has a Cave Lion Spirit really helped you?” Sergenor asked.
    “More than once. The four marks that the lion’s claw left on my leg, that is a Clan totem mark for a Cave Lion. Usually it is only a man who is given such a strong totem, but they were so clearly Clan marks, the leader accepted me even though I was born to the Others—that’s their name for people like us. I was very young when I lost my people. If the Clan hadn’t taken me in and raised me, I would not be alive now,” Ayla explained.
    “Interesting, but you said ‘more than once,’ ” Sergenor reminded her.
    “Another time, after I became a woman and the new young leader forced me to leave, I walked for a long time looking for the Others as my Clan mother, Iza, had told me to do before she died. But when I couldn’t find them, and I had to find a place to stay before winter came, my totem sent a pride of lions to make me change my direction, which led me to find a valley where I could survive. It was even my cave lion who led me to Jondalar,” Ayla said.
    The people who were standing around listening were fascinated with her story. Even Jondalar had never heard her explain her totem in quite that way. One of them spoke out.
    “And these people who took you in, the ones you call the Clan, are they really Flatheads?”
    “That’s your name for them. They call themselves the Clan, the Clan of the Cave Bear, because they all venerate the Spirit of the Cave Bear. He is the totem of all of them, the Clan totem,” Ayla said.
    “I think it’s time to let these travelers know where they can put down their sleeping rolls and get settled so they can share a meal with us,” said a woman who had just arrived. She was a pleasantly round, attractive woman with the glint of intelligence and spirit in her eyes.
    Sergenor smiled with warm affection. “This is my mate, Jayvena of the Seventh Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said to Ayla. “Jayvena, this is Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. She has many more names and ties, but I’ll let her tell you.”
    “But not now,” Jayvena said. “In the name of the Mother, welcome, Ayla of the Ninth Cave. I’m sure you would rather get settled now than recite names and ties.”
    As they were starting to leave, Sergenor touched Ayla’s arm and looked at her, then said, quietly, “I sometimes dream of wolves.” She smiled.
    As they were leaving, a voluptuous young woman with dark brown hair approached, holding two children in her arms, a dark-haired boy and a blond girl. She smiled at Kimeran, who lightly brushed her cheek with his, then turned to the visitors. “You met my mate, Beladora, last summer, didn’t you?” he said, adding in a voice filled with pride, “and her son and daughter, the children of my hearth?”
    Ayla recalled meeting the woman briefly the summer before, though she hadn’t had a chance to get to know her. She knew that Beladora had given birth to her two-born-together at the Summer Meeting around the time of the First Matrimonial, when she and Jondalar were mated. Everyone had been talking about it. That meant the two would soon be able to count one year, she thought.
    “Yes, of course,” Jondalar said, bestowing a smile on the woman and her twins, then without really being aware of it, paying closer attention to the attractive young mother, his vivid blue eyes full of appreciation. She smiled back. Kimeran moved closer and put an arm around her waist.
    Ayla was adept at reading body language, but she thought anyone could have understood what had just transpired. Jondalar found Beladora attractive, and couldn’t help showing it, just as she couldn’t help responding to him. Jondalar was unaware of his own charisma,