The Boy of the Painted Cave Read Free Page A

die.
    Tao squatted down, talking to the animal softly. “You come back when I have nothing to give you, no food, no meat.”
    The wolf remained silent, watching Tao intently.
    â€œYou must learn to hunt on your own,” said Tao, creeping closer but still not touching the animal. “There is food in the fields and in the woods, voles and mice under the grass, ground squirrels in the meadow. You must sniff them out and catch them.”
    The sound of Tao’s voice seemed to quiet the animal. It whimpered softly and began to creep up on its belly until its coal-black nose was only an arm’s length away. Tao reached out to touch the soft muzzle, but the animal pulled back and bared its fangs. The boy tried again. Once again the young wolf shied away and would not allow itself to be touched.
    Tao sat still, watching, as the animal edged closer. The wolf dog’s ears were laid back, its ribs showed through the ragged gray fur. Tao saw the hunger in the yellow eyes. He saw it in the lean face and in the pale tongue that darted out to lick the thin lips.
    Then, in the flickering light of the fire, Tao saw something else, something glistening white sticking out of the wolf’s mouth. It was not a fang, not a flash of white tooth, but a long sliver of bone jammed deeply into its upper jaw.
    Now Tao understood why the animal refused to eat, why it was so thin and weak. Somehow, in fighting for its food, in pulling or tugging on a piece of meat, a splinter of bone had become lodged in its jaw. Now it could not feed. It could not even hunt.
    Tao crept closer, inching nearer and nearer, reaching out slowly, his hand almost touching the wolf’s muzzle. The little animal did not move. Its yellow eyes caught the firelight and again its lips pulled back in a low snarl. Tao waited, his heart beating fast. Then, with a sudden lunge, he sprang forward and grasped the wolf’s head with one hand and the splinter of bone between the fingers of his other hand.
    The little animal jumped back, yelping and crying. But Tao hung on. Boy and wolf twisted and turned, tumbling across the sandbank. The wolf shook his head, violently opening and closing his jaws, trying to escape. Still Tao held on tight, floundering across the sand as the wolf continued to yelp and thrash about. Suddenly the sliver of bone came loose in Tao’s fingers. The wolf was free. He ran about in circles, whining, rubbing his bloody muzzle in the damp earth.
    â€œBe quiet,” said the boy. He held up the long splinter of bone, blood-smeared, glistening red in the firelight. “Your demon of pain is gone. Now you can eat again.”
    The wolf dog picked himself up, weaving back and forth on unsteady legs. For a long moment he stared at Tao, his yellow slitted eyes shining, his pink tongue licking at the bleeding wound.
    â€œGo,” said Tao. “Go back to your pack and hunt with your friends. You will soon grow strong again.”
    The little wolf hesitated. Tao saw it look back once or twice. There was a soft rustling of grass as the animal disappeared into the night.
    Tao smiled, but after the wolf dog was gone he felt a sense of emptiness. He was alone again.
    He got up and threw more dried willow branches and a log of birch wood on the fire, enough to last through most of the night. Then he lay down again. He heard the whooping laugh of the hyenas far out on the grassland and he knew they were hungry too. His hand reached out and his fingers closed around the spear lying beside him. He was tired and there was a weariness in his bones and he fell asleep quickly.
    As he slept, Tao drifted off into a narrow tunnel that led into a large cave. On the floor were shells and hollow stones filled with black, yellow and red paints. The walls were smooth and unmarked, waiting for the hand of the painter.
    Tao picked up the red shell and dipped his finger into the oily color. With wild sweeps of his hand he began to paint. His arm moved