Free The Shelters of Stone by Jean M. Auel Page B

wood around, to make a snowshoe, or tongs, or any other object that required bent wood. They were different aspects of the same skill.
    The sturdy, foot-long handle of the tool was carved with symbols and with the animals and plants of spring. The carvings represented many things, depending on the context; carvings and paintings were always much more complex than they seemed. All such depictions honored the Great Earth Mother, and in that sense the designs on Thonolan’s straightener were made so that She would allow the spirits of the animals to be drawn to the spears made with the tool. There was also a seasonal element represented that was part of an esoteric spiritual aspect. The beautifully made depictions were not simply representations, but, Jondalar knew, his brother had liked the carvings because they were beautiful.
    Willamar seemed to focus on the pierced antler tool, then he reached for it. “This was Thonolan’s,” he said.
    “Yes,” Marthona said. “Do you remember when Thonolan bent the wood to make the support for this table with that tool?” She touched the low, stone-slab platform in front of her.
    “Thonolan was good at his craft,” Willamar said, his voice still strange, distant.
    “Yes, he was,” Jondalar said. “I think part of the reason he felt so comfortable with the Sharamudoi was that they did things with wood that he never imagined could be done. They bent wood to make boats. They would shape and hollow out â log to make a canoe, a kind of boat, then bend the sides to widen it. They could make it bigger by adding strakes—long planks—along the sides, bending them to follow the shape of the boat, and fastening them together. The Ramudoi were very skilled at handling boats in the water, but both the Shamudoi and Ramudoi worked together to make them.
    “I considered staying with them. They are wonderful people. When Ayla and I stopped to visit with them on the way back, they wanted both of us to stay. If I had, I think I would have chosen the Ramudoi half. And there was a youngster there that was really interested in learning flint-knapping.”
    Jondalar knew he was babbling, but he was at a loss ofwhat to do or say, and was trying to fill the emptiness. He had never seen Willamar so shaken.
    There was a tapping at the entrance, but without waiting for an invitation, Zelandoni pushed the drape aside and came in. Folara followed her, and Ayla realized the young woman had slipped out and summoned the woman. She nodded approval to herself; it was the right thing to do. Jondalar’s sister was a wise young woman.
    It had worried Folara to see Willamar so upset. She had no idea what to do except to get help. And Zelandoni was the donier: the giver of Doni’s Gifts, the one who acted äs the intermediary of the Great Earth Mother to Her children, the dispenser of assistance and medication, the one you went to for help.
    Folara had told the powerful woman the essence of the problem; Zelandoni glanced around and took in the situation quickly. She turned and spoke quietly to the young woman, who immediately headed for the cooking area and started blowing on the coals in the fireplace to get them started again. But the fire was dead. Marthona had spread the embers to cook the meat evenly and hadn’t gotten back to rekindle and bank the fire to keep it alive.
    Here was something Ayla could do to help. She left the scene of grief and quickly went to her pack near the entrance. She knew exactly where her tinder kit was, and as she snatched it and headed for the cooking area, she thought of Barzec, the Mamutoi man who made it for her after she had given each hearth of the Lion Camp a firestone.
    “Let me help you make a fire,” she said.
    Folara smiled. She knew how to make fire, but it was upsetting to see the man of her hearth so distressed, and she was pleased to have someone there with her. Willamar had always been so strong, so steady, so self-possessed.
    “If you get some kindling,