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

sleep. Wolf had gone out earlier, probably to hunt or explore. She had just spread out their traveling sleeping roll to see what repairs it might need when she heard a tapping on the post beside the drape that closed the entrance to their dwelling. Her home was located near the back of the protected space, but closer to the southwestern, downriver end of the living area, since it was one of the newer constructions. She got up and pulled aside the drape and was pleased to see the One Who Was First standing there.
    “How nice to see you, Zelandoni,” she said, smiling. “Come in.”
    After the woman entered, Ayla caught a sense of movement outside and glanced up at another construction that she and Jondalar had made somewhat farther on across the vacant space as a place for the horses to shelter when the weather was especially disagreeable. She noticed that Whinney and Gray had just come up from the grassy edge of The River.
    “I was going to make some tea for myself—can I make some for you?”
    “Thank you, yes,” the large woman said as she headed for a block of limestone with a large cushion on top that had been brought inside especially for her to use as a seat. It was sturdy and comfortable.
    Ayla busied herself placing some cooking stones on the hot coals she had stirred up in the fireplace, and adding more wood. Then she poured water from the waterbag—the cleaned stomach of an aurochs bulging with fullness—into a tightly woven basket, and added some broken pieces of bone to protect the cooking basket from the sizzling-hot cooking stones.
    “Is there a particular tea you’d like?” she asked.
    “It doesn’t matter. You choose—something calming would be nice,” Zelandoni replied.
    The padded rock had appeared in their dwelling shortly after they returned from the Summer Meeting the year before. The First had not asked for it, and she wasn’t sure whether it was Ayla’s idea or Jondalar’s, but she knew it was meant for her and she appreciated it. Zelandoni had two stone seats of her own, one in her dwelling and one near the back of the exterior common work area. In addition, Joharran and Proleva provided her a solid place to sit comfortably in their dwelling. Though she could still get down on the floor if it was necessary, as time went on and she continued to grow fatter, she was finding it harder to get up. She assumed that since she was chosen to be First by the Great Earth Mother, She had a reason for making her look more like Her every year. Not every Zelandoni who had become First was fat, but she knew most people liked seeing her that way. Her size seemed to lend presence and authority. A little less mobility was a small price to pay.
    With wooden tongs Ayla picked up a hot stone. The tongs were made from a thin piece of wood from just under the bark of a living tree, peeled in a long strip, the top and bottom cut, then bent around with steam. Fresh wood kept its springiness longer, but to keep the tree from dying, it was best if taken from only one side. She tapped the cooking stone against one of the rocks that circled the firepit to shake off the ashes, then dropped it into the water amid a cloud of steam. A second hot stone brought the water to the boil, though it settled down quickly. The pieces of bone kept the hot rocks from scorching the bottom of the basket, giving the fiber cooking pot a longer life.
    Ayla looked through her supply of dried and drying herbs. Chamomile was always calming, but it was so commonplace, she wanted something more. She noticed a plant she had picked recently and smiled to herself. The lemon balm wasn’t entirely dry yet, but she decided it didn’t matter. It was entirely usable for tea. A little added to the chamomile along with some linden for a bit of sweetening would make a nice calming infusion. She put the chamomile leaves, the lemon balm, and linden into the water and let it steep a while, then poured two cups and brought one to the Donier.
    The woman