The Boy of the Painted Cave Read Free

and kindling and piled them up near the sandy embankment. He set them afire and threw on more sticks and logs until the yellow tongues of flame licked high into the darkness.
    Except for a few grubs and a handful of dried berries, he had not eaten since early morning, and he felt a dull emptiness in his stomach. Holding his torch high, he searched about under a group of oak trees, looking for acorns. But it was late in the season and the ground had already been picked over by marmots and pigs.
    Just then the gliding shadow of a flying squirrel swooped down from an old dead willow at the top of the embankment. Tao looked up and saw a hole in the scarred white trunk and he knew where he might find a meal. Broken limbs jutted out from the old tree, and it was an easy climb.
    Tao reached into the hole, his fingers groping through the warm nest of leaves and fluff. He brought out handfuls of acorns. Back on the ground, he sat on his heels and cracked them open with a handy stone and picked out the bits of meat with his fingertips. The acorns were dry and tasteless, but they helped to take the edge off his hunger. Next he gathered bunches of dried meadowgrass and spread them out on the sand to make a bed. With the embankment at his back and the warm fire in front, he felt safe from the hyenas and prowling leopards.
    The night air was cool and still. He lay back on his bed of straw, feeling the prickling stems against his back and smelling the sweet odor of the new grass. Except for the short coughing roar of a cave lion far out in the valley and the hiss and sputter of the fire, the night was quiet.
    For a long while he lay awake thinking about his quarrel with Volt and the others over the missing rabbit. The punishment did not bother him, for he had been out alone in the bush many times before and he was not afraid.
    At times like this he often thought of his mother, whom he had never seen, and he wondered what she was like. He closed his eyes and saw a picture of a young girl, with hair the color of honey and a round, smiling face. He reached out as if to touch her, then withdrew his hand. It was only a vision. He wished he could draw her as he imagined her to be, but this would be taboo. Most of all, it was against the laws of the clan to make an image of a person. It would offend the evil spirits.
    Tao shook his head as he huddled down in the loose straw. Why are all these things bad? he wondered. Why is it wrong to draw in the sand, to make a picture on a stone, to be born with a lame foot? Is there nothing good, nothing right? Is this why Volt is always angry? Everything he sees is bad. Kala said she has never seen an evil spirit. If they are real, where do they stay, where do they hide? In the forest, behind the mountains and boulders?
    Just then Tao heard a movement in the tall grass. He jumped up quickly and pulled a flaming torch from the fire. As he looked into the darkness he saw only the moving shadows of the stunted willows. Then, just outside of the glare of his torch, he made out a pair of gleaming eyes. Tao froze and gripped his spear tighter. It could be a prowling cave lion or a leopard. If it was bold enough to come within the light of the fire, he would have little chance.
    He watched cautiously, waiting for the beast to show itself. Slowly he lifted his spear, ready to throw as the yellow eyes came closer. Then he stopped. Fear left him as he made out the thin gray shape of the little wolf.
    The animal cringed and crept up through the grass. Little by little it came into the light of the fire, whining softly. Tao leaned down, clicking his tongue. The animal seemed to be begging for help.
    He had heard about wolf dogs before, that sometimes during bad seasons when they are hungry and half starved they hang about the camps looking for a bone or a scrap of meat, or to lick at the hearth rocks where the fat drips. This one was young and thin as a shadow. If it didn’t find something to eat soon it would