The Land of Painted Caves: Earth's Children, Book Six
Jean M. Auel
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In this, the extraordinary conclusion of the ice-age epic series, Earth’s Children®, Ayla, Jondalar, and their infant daughter, Jonayla, are living with the Zelandonii in the Ninth Cave. Ayla has been chosen as an acolyte to a spiritual leader and begins arduous training tasks.
Whatever obstacles she faces, Ayla finds inventive ways to lessen the difficulties of daily life, searching for wild edibles to make meals and experimenting with techniques to ease the long journeys the Zelandonii must take while honing her skills as a healer and a leader. And there are the Sacred Caves that Ayla’s mentor takes her to see. They are filled with remarkable paintings of mammoths, lions, and bears, and their mystical aura at times overwhelms Ayla.
But all the time Ayla has spent in training rituals has caused Jondalar to drift away from her. The rituals themselves bring her close to death, but through them Ayla gains A Gift of Knowledge so important that it will change her world.
Sixth in the acclaimed Earth’s Children® series
Gone, the Mother was spent, To pass on Life’s Spirit had been Her intent. She caused all of Her children to create life anew, And Woman was blessed to bring forth life, too. But Woman was lonely. She was the only. The Mother remembered Her own loneliness, The love of Her friend and his hovering caress. With the last spark remaining, Her labor began, To share life with Woman, She created First Man. Again She was giving. One more was living. Both Zelandoni and Ayla looked at Jondalar.
Make one of those round bowl boats that the Mamutoi used to make. We made one on our Journey here. It held a lot of things when we attached it to Whinney’s pole-drag, especially when we had to cross rivers.” Then she frowned. “But sometimes Zelandoni might need me.” “I know,” he said. “If you can help me, I’d appreciate it, but don’t worry about it. Maybe I can get my apprentices to help. The bowl boats can be useful, but I think I’ll try to make one of those small Sharamudoi boats first. It.
Rushemar said. “Salova has finished the last of the baskets she wanted to take with her. We haven’t packed, but I have everything ready.” “I’m still sorting through my handles,” Solaban said. “Marsheval came by yesterday to talk about what he should bring. He seems to have a talent for working with ivory, too, and is gaining skill,” he added with a smile. Solaban’s craft was making handles, mostly for knives, chisels, and other tools. Though he could make handles out of antler and wood, he.
The sleeping furs beside her under the circumstances. He didn’t even know if she would let him. He was certain he had lost her, but was afraid to find out for sure. He thought he had managed to find a plausible excuse for not returning to their camp another night, when Proleva asked him about it. He had actually slept near the horse enclosure, using horse blankets, and the ground covering he and Marona had used at the swimming place for bedding, to keep warm, but he didn’t think he could.
Jolts of fire rising through her. Almost too soon he felt a spurt of fluid, tasted her, and his urge to let himself go was so strong, he very nearly couldn’t hold back. He raised up, found her opening with his swollen manhood, and pushed in, grateful that he didn’t have to fear that he would hurt her, that she could take him all, that he fit so well. She cried out again, and again each time he pulled out and moved in. And then he was there. With a groaning shout that he seldom expressed when.