The Boy of the Painted Cave by Justin Denzel Read Free Book Online

Ram, he felt his images were good.
    Down near the glades a big glacier lake extended a long blue finger into the Slough. It was a place of beauty, a place where Tao could always find something new and surprising, and it soon became one of his favorite haunts. Here he saw the tall white cranes stalking through the reeds, jabbing for minnows and crayfish. He watched the screaming fish-eagles swoop down to snatch squirming eels and perch out of the glistening waters.
    One day, as the lake lay steaming in the early morning sun, he and Ram walked around the marshy shoreline, hunting for duck eggs. They had just come through a stand of reed grass when Tao saw an animal, the size of a large horse, feeding in the shallows. The boy drew in his breath. It was a giant deer. He had heard about such creatures, but they were rare and only a few hunters had ever seen one.
    Unaware of danger, the deer stood in the knee-deep water, raking up strings of water lilies. Its huge rack of antlers spread out from its head like two great hands with the palms up and the sharp prongs or fingers curving inward.
    Tao watched as the deer came closer. He kept his hand on Ram’s shoulder to hold him back. The wolf was eager to begin the chase, and Tao could feel the tension in its body. “No, Ram,” he whispered. “You are no match for the great deer. In the water you would have no chance.”
    Tao knew the big deer could not outrun the wolf, but with its massive spread of antlers it could be dangerous.
    Boy and wolf stood on the edge of the lake, watching quietly. They were so taken up with the sight of the huge animal that they failed to hear the footsteps of the stranger as he came up behind them.
    It was an old man, thin and gaunt, with squint creases at the corners of his deep-blue eyes. His face was covered with a long, almost white beard and he carried a long wooden spear and a deerskin bag slung over his left shoulder.
    He stopped a short distance away and watched them for a while. Then, as if not to startle them, he coughed lightly.
    Ram spun around, snarling, the hair along the back of his neck bristling with anger.
    The big deer stopped feeding. It threw up its head and splashed away across the shallows.
    Still standing at the water’s edge, Tao turned to face the hunter. His heart was pounding. He had broken many taboos—he walked on forbidden land, he made images on cave walls and he hunted with a wolf dog. Now this stranger would be a witness.
    Tao placed his hand on Ram’s shoulder and ordered him to stay. Then he limped slowly toward the man, trying to act unafraid.
    The old man looked down at him from under bushy eyebrows. There was no anger in his face, only a touch of mild surprise. He saw the bad foot and the air of boyish defiance. “You are Tao of the Valley People,” he said.
    â€œYou know my name?” asked Tao, startled.
    â€œYes,” said the old man. “I travel far to paint images in the secret caverns, and I hear much.”
    Tao gasped. He felt a mixture of dismay and awe. The stranger standing before him was Graybeard, the Cave Painter, the shaman of all the clans. Never did he think he would meet such a great one.
    â€œI also know you hunt on forbidden land,” said Graybeard.
    The boy winced and shifted from one foot to the other. “It is forbidden only because of the demons and evil spirits,” he said, his voice cracking.
    â€œAnd you are not afraid of demons?”
    â€œI have heard the wailing screams and the wild howls, but they are the cries of the eagle-owl and the loons. If there are other demons I have never seen one.
    The old man leaned on his spear. “You also hunt with a wolf dog. That too is taboo in your clan.”
    For a moment Tao was quiet. Then he swallowed hard and said, “The people of my clan are starving. The Slough is full of game. With the wolf dog I bring them much food.”
    Graybeard nodded. “You are not afraid of