Cave Interlude #4

It had been a beautiful early summer day high in the mountains, but now it looked as if it might rain.  Fawn glanced up at the gray clouds that seemed to gather on the edges of the mountains the way that deer hair collected on a scraping tool.  Her full name was She-Who-Steps-Timidly-Like-A-Fawn, but everyone called her simply “Fawn,” especially when the women were away from the village and its prideful, ridiculous men.  Their small group had been sojourning for three days already, officially on a mission to gather medicinal herbs and plants that bloomed in the mountains.  Unofficially, they were all waiting for Fawn to become a woman; to welcome her into the universal circle of feminine creative mythology.

Her mother accompanied her of course – the one who gave birth to her, and whose unconditional love and generosity had graciously filled her days for as long as she could remember.  The short, stout woman was busy grinding the last of the precious acorns they had brought from their dwindling stores back at the village.  They were certain the Harvest Moons would bring more, but for now it was a special treat.  Fawn’s older sister, Preening-Robin-Woman, lounged in the shade and tried to admire her reflection in the water, frowning because it was getting distorted as the wind riffled its dull surface.  Her aunties were somewhere above the lake, but not too far; as Fawn could still hear them laughing and chatting like sassy little birds.  Robin decided to take a bath before it got too cold, and slipped out of her buckskin dress.  Fawn again felt a twinge of jealousy at her sister’s beauty, which was legendary among her tribe, but most profoundly in the mind of the owner of the dress that now lay on a bush.  Robin waded delicately into the shallows, holding her long, thick hair as if it were a baby that couldn’t swim.  The sun shone brightly through the clouds onto the rocks above the lake, and caused her skin to glow amber and glint off the wavelets.

“Your time will come,” her mother would always tell her whenever she was overly concerned about Robin’s extraordinary loveliness.  “You will be the most beautiful of all.”  As if reading her thoughts in the moment, her mother looked at her fondly from the grinding rock, and Fawn blushed despite herself.

Robin was gliding dramatically into the water without a sound, and her hair began to spread on the surface like a web.  The marriage-age princess was finally starting to relax.  She usually acted as though men were watching, even when alone with her sister, or her friends.  Robin smiled radiantly from the sincere luxury of the enveloping embrace of still water, and was uncharacteristically oblivious of her appearance to others.  She beamed across the surface of the water to Fawn, and beckoned.  They often swam together in the deeper holes in the river, but this was the first time they might share a dip in a lake.  Fern awkwardly tugged off her clothing – which was getting quite small – and slipped in the unfamiliar lake bed, splashing and plopping, arms waving wildly to keep her balance.  Soon they were treading water next to each other, eyes locked in the familiar emotional dance of sisterhood.

Her aunties came back, gaily laughing and trying to wave at the girls, but their arms were full of strange plants and long, leafy branches.  They kept dropping something and picking it up, and dropping something else, and were greatly amused at their own foolishness.  They chattered away ceaselessly, as if making up for the dour decorum and deferential silences back at the village.  They busied themselves building a fire, and a drying rack, and happily criticizing everything the other one did.  Her mother had collected the ground acorns into her leaching basket, and was digging a hole in the shallow skin of earth next to the lake.  There would be acorn pinole on this, their last night of freedom before heading back down to the village, gathering the bundles of dried herbs they had cached on their way up to the lakes.  Fawn felt hungry, and tried to look down into the dark, colder green depths beneath her, as if she might catch a fat trout for supper with her toes.  The water was making her stomach hurt, so she paddled for shore.

Walking out of this high lake into the alpine breezes was much colder than back at the river, and her teeth chattered.  A creeping feeling of warmth made her look down, and there was a small streak of blood on her leg!  She gave out a squeal of alarm, and the older women immediately stopped what they were doing and fell silent.  Three anxious faces peered intently at the skinny girl, who was now trying to act as though nothing was happening, and fumbling with a stubborn buckskin dress that would not go back on her wet body.  Her mother and aunties rose as one spirit, and approached her solicitously, smoothing her wet hair, shaking out her dress, and laying it on the soft grass.  Their smiling faces locked with hers, not looking down, and bringing her back to calmness and acceptance.  They laid her down with what seemed like a hundred gentle hands, so that only her back was on her dress, and her knees were in the air.  Her bottom lay on the grass, and her mother was proudly unwrapping the special herbs and mosses she had brought for this event.  They ministered to her lovingly with soothing words and touches, all the time cooing like doves.  Robin had come out of the water and was walking over excitedly, twisting her hair in an artful spiral to dry it as best as she could.  All at once, Fawn lost her childlike distortions and considered the reality of what was happening.

She was now a woman!

They left her mostly alone after that, as the storm was gathering strength on the ridges of the peak they called “The Chieftain’s House” to the north, and there was still plenty of work to do.  From time to time, one of them would check on her, speaking softly and making soothing noises with their tongue like a mother quail.  She lay there on the soft grass, looking up at the grey clouds that scudded across the sky, forming upside-down ripples similar to the river mud back home.  Funny, she didn’t feel all that different — except for the dull ache in her stomach – but the earth and all its creations seemed strangely new; yet deeply familiar.  

The first few spatters of rain forced them to coordinate their actions, and Fawn stood up, unashamed of her nakedness, tugging her tight dress over her skinny shoulders.  Her aunties were just finishing a cache of dried herbs, and helping her mother gather the baskets and food.  Robin had their leather bags and poles ready, and they hurried up the shallow wash to where her aunties said there was shelter.  The tumbled boulders amongst the trees were surprisingly large, and appeared out of place in the gentle forest.  They bivouacked under a huge granite overhang shaped like the shield of a great stone warrior, and waited for Sore-Tooth-Bear (that’s what the men called her oldest auntie).  Being the most experienced in such matters, she was scouting the cave for any unexpected inhabitants.  There might be an entire family of Humpback Bears living in the cave, but they would flee in trembling terror before the legendary temper of her auntie!  Once again, Fawn reflected on the remarkable change in Bear’s character during this trip as she returned, laughing and lightly dodging raindrops, chattering like a chipmunk and gaily pointing that the cave was all clear.

They had to climb over some of the scattered rocks to reach the opening.  Fawn bumped her head on the entrance, and it made her see moving stars all around her for a few strange moments.  She crawled in on all fours, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden darkness.  It was much smaller than she imagined, and the floor was rocky and uneven.  Once they had cleared the flattest part and were all settled in, and she was able to see better, she decided it was big enough to get out of the rain for a while.  There were old bones and skulls scattered about, but that didn’t bother her in the least.  In her culture, these were just symbols of the passing of the seasons; no different than falling leaves or rotting logs.  Her mother was busy trying to build a fire in the wall, probably because there was no room on the floor with all their things.  Robin was daintily arranging the skulls and bones on a big sloping rock, to try and give them more room.  She kept brushing off her new buckskin dress, as if trying to keep it clean. Fawn snorted and thought, it’s a little late for that.

After they had heated some stones in the wall to cook their pinole, and had eaten their fill of the nourishing mush that seemed to soak into their marrow, they moved into sleeping positions, curling around their happy bellies.  The sounds of a gentle rain could be heard outside the cave.  Orange feathers of reflected firelight caressed the roof of the cave, and it was Raccoon-Who-Hears-Only-Her-Own-Voice (who else) that first felt compelled to fill the emptiness with a story of the First Woman.  Fawn was too sleepy to remember the details, but it was something about being formed from a river, and all life on earth flowing from her legs… or something like that.  The warmth of family and fire blanketed her with dreams of the stars, and she slept.

She awoke to almost complete darkness.  A dull orange glow was all that was left of the fire, but Bear’s loud snoring told her all was well.  As she lay awake, she thought about the pomp and ceremony that would surely accompany her return home.  Robin’s official acceptance into womanhood was burned in her memory, having been replayed in her mind a thousand times.  The entire village would come out to meet her, and feast in her honor, before singing her back to her mother’s hut.  Of course, Walks-Too-Much-Wolverine would be there, and she pulled her knees up to her chest thinking about him.  The raindrops had slowed down to almost nothing, and the sound of random drops from the trees filtered in through the cave opening.  In the dim glow of elemental fire, she looked into the hollow eye sockets of the skulls of Those Who Had Walked Before, and she imagined the wrinkled face of her maternal grandmother, reassuring her that all was right with the world.