"He knows how to gather food with the women," Mardena said.

"Yes, and that is a worthwhile contribution, but he should learn some other skills. At least he should try," Ayla said.

"I suppose you're right, but what can he do? I'm not sure he could really hunt," Lanidar's mother said.can often learn to imitate the sounds that animals make. If he can, then he could learn to be a Caller, and entice them to where the hunters are wait- ing. You don't need arms for that, but he would need to be where animals are so he could hear them, and learn how they sound."

"It's true, he is a good whistler," Mardena said, considering something she hadn't thought of. "Do you really think he could do something with that?"

Lanidar had been listening to the discussion with keen interest. "She whistles, mother. She can whistle like birds," he interjected. "And she whis- tles to call her horses, but she can imitate a horse, and she sounds just like one when she does."

"Is that true? Can you make the sound of a horse?" the mother asked.

"Why don't you and Lanidar come and visit the camp of the Ninth Cave tomorrow morning, Mardena," Ayla said. She was sure the woman was going to ask her to demonstrate, and she didn't really want to make a loud horse neigh with so many people around. They would all turn and stare at her.Ayla watched the boy and his mother walk away together. Before she turned to join the women and Wolf, she saw Lanidar look back at her with an absolutely grateful smile.

"Here's your bird," Folara said as she approached, holding out the wil- low grouse with the small spear still sticking out of it. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Well, since I just invited some people to share a meal tomorrow morn- ing, I think I will end up cooking it for them," Ayla said.

"Whom did you invite?" Marthona asked.

"That woman I was talking to," Ayla said.

"Mardena?" Folara said with surprise.

"And her son, and her mother."

"No one invites them, except to community feasts, of course," Folara said.ing a mate. Mothers will be afraid that he'll bring crippling spirits with him to a mating."

"And she always drags her boy around wherever she goes," Folara said.

"I think she's afraid the other boys will pick on him if she lets him go any- where alone. They probably would. I don't think he has any friends. She doesn't give him any opportunities."

"I wondered about that," Ayla said. "She seemed very protective of him.

Too much, I think. She thinks his crippled arm limits his abilities, but I think his biggest limitation is not his arm, it's his mother. She's afraid to let him try, but he has to grow up sometime."

"Why did you pick him to throw a spear, Ayla? It seemed like you knew him," Marthona asked.

"Someone told him there were horses where we're camped-the Upper Meadow, he called it-and he came to see them. I happened to be there when he came. I think he was trying to get away from the crowd, or his mother, but whoever told him didn't say anything about us camping there. I know Jondalar and Joharran have been passing the word for people to stayAyla smiled back. "Well, maybe not everyone, but I think if people have a chance to get to know them, they'll know they are special and won't be tempted to hunt them."

"You are probably right," Marthona said, "The horses seemed to take to him, and he learned my whistle for them right away, so I asked Lanidar if he would check on the horses when I'm not around. I didn't think that his mother might object," Ayla said.

"Not many mothers would object to letting a son who will soon be able to count twelve years learn more about horses, or any animal," Marthona said.

"That many years? I would have thought he was a nine- or maybe a ten- year. He talked about Jondalar's spear-throwing demonstration, but he said he didn't want to go because he couldn't throw a spear. He seemed to think it was beyond him, but there is nothing wrong with his left arm, and I had my spear-thrower with me, so I showed him how to use it. After talking to Mardena, I know where he got the idea, but at his years he should bethe man of his hearth left. Most people think it was because he was embar- rassed to call Lanidar the son of his hearth, but I think at least part of it was Mardena. She didn't want anybody to see the baby, not even her mate. She tried to hide him, and kept his arm covered, and got very protective of him."

"That's his problem, she still is. When I told her that I asked him to check on the horses when I'm not there, Mardena didn't want to let him. I wasn't asking for something he couldn't do. I just want someone to make sure they are all right, and to come and get me if there is a problem," Ayla said. "That's why she's coming over tomorrow, so I can try to persuade her that the horses won't hurt him. And I've promised to teach him to hunt, or at least to throw a spear. I'm not sure how it all happened, but somehow the more she objected to him even trying to learn, the more determined I be- came to teach him."

Both women were smiling and nodding with understanding.

"Will you tell Proleva that we are having visitors in the morning?" Ayla said. "And that I'll cook this grouse?""A morning feast coming out of a ground oven-food is always so ten- der when it's cooked that way," Folara said. "I can hardly wait."

"Folara, I think we'd better plan to help," Marthona said. "If Ayla is going to cook, I think everyone will be curious and want a taste. Oh, I nearly for- got. I was told to tell you, Ayla, there will be a gathering tomorrow in the afternoon of all the women who are to be mated, and their mothers, in the zelandonia lodge."

"I have no mother to bring," Ayla said, frowning. She didn't want to be the only one there without a mother, if one was expected.

"Generally it is not the place of the man's mother to go, but since the woman you were born to can't be here, if you want, I would be willing to go in her place," Jondalar's mother said.

"Would you really?" Ayla said, feeling overwhelmed by the offer. "I would be very grateful."

A meeting of the women who will be mating soon, Ayla thought. Soon I will be Jondalar's mate. How I wish Iza could be here. She's the motherasked. "Right now I'm going to look for something else to cook with the morning meal."

Behind and toward the right of the main Summer Meeting camp, the limestone hills formed the general shape of a large scooped-out shallow bowl curving around on the sides, but open in front. The base of the curved slopes converged to a small, relatively level field, which had been evened out with stones and packed earth over them any years the location had been used for meetings. The grass-covered hillsides within the partial bowl depression rose up in a gradual, irregular slope with dips and hills, less steep areas that had been made more level to provide places for family groups or even some entire Caves to sit together with a good view of the open space below. The sloped area was sufficiently large to hold the entire Summer Meeting camp of more than two thousand people.

In a wooded copse near the rugged crest of the slope, a spring rose that filled a small pool, then spilled down the middle of the bowl-shaped slope, through the flattened area at the bottom, and eventually into the larger stream of the camp. The spring-fed creek was so small that people stepped over it easily, but the clear, cold pool at the top provided a constant source of clean drinking water.Her attention was caught by the sound that funneled up the rounded in- cline from the camp. It was a sound unlike anything she had ever heard: the combined voices of a large camp full of people, talking, channeled into one sound. The merging of the babble of voices was like a muted roar punctuated by occasional outcries, calls, and whoops. It was not the same, but it reminded her of a large hive of bees or a bawling herd of aurochs in the distance, and she was rather glad to be alone for the moment.

Well, not entirely alone. She watched Wolf poking his nose into every little crack and cranny, and smiled. Ayla was glad he was with her. Al- though she was unaccustomed to so many people, especially all at one time and in one place, she didn't really want to be alone. She'd had her fill of that in the valley she found after she left the Clan, and she wasn't sure she could have stood it if she hadn't had Whinney and, later, Baby for com- pany. Even with them it had been lonely, but she knew how to obtain food and make the things she needed, and she had learned the joy of utter free- dom-and its consequences. For the first time, she could do whatever she wanted, even adopt a baby horse or lion. Living alone, dependent entirely on herself, had taught her that one person could live, for a while, in reason- able comfort if she was young, and healthy, and strong. It was only whenthe wishes and desires of individuals were important, limited individual freedom, because the needs of the community were equally important.

Survival depended upon a cooperative unit, a Clan or a Camp or a Cave, a group who would work together and help each other. There was always a struggle between the individual and the group, and finding a workable bal- ance was a constant challenge, but not without benefits.

The cooperation of the group provided more than essentials for indi- viduals. It also granted leisure time to devote to more enjoyable tasks, which among the Others allowed an aesthetic sense to bloom. The art they created wasn't so much art for itself as it was an inherent part of living, part of their daily existence. Nearly every member of a Zelandonii Cave enjoyed pride of workmanship and, in varying degrees, appreciated the results of one another's skills. From the time they were young, each child was al- lowed to experiment to find the area in which they excelled, and practical crafts were not considered more important than artistic talents.

Ayla remembered that Shevonar, the man who died during the bison hunt, had been a spear-maker. He was not the only person of the Ninth Cave who could make a spear, but specialization of a craft developed greater skill, which gave status to the individual who made it, often eco-was made or done had value, even though its practical worth was not al- ways obvious. The value was generally agreed upon by consensus or indi- vidual bargaining. The result was that truly fine workmanship was rewarded over and above the ordinary, partly because people preferred it, which cre- ated demand, and partly because it often took longer to make or do some- thing well. Both talent and workmanship were highly valued, and most members of a Cave had a well-developed aesthetic sense within their own canon.

A well-made spear that was beautifully decorated had more value than an equally well-made spear that was only functional, but that had infinitely more value than a poorly made spear. A basket that was clumsily woven might serve as well as a basket that was carefully made with subtle tex- tures and patterns or colored in various tones, but it was not nearly as de- sirable. The barely serviceable one might be used for roots just dug from the ground, but once the roots were cleaned or dried, a more beautiful bas- ket might be preferred to store them. Expedient tools and objects that served an immediate need were often made and then discarded, while one that was beautiful and well made was usually kept.particularly enjoyed the retelling of stories they knew.

The Others also liked hearing the stories retold, but they liked novelty, too. Riddles and word games were enthusiastically played by young and old alike. Visitors were welcomed, if only because they usually brought new stories. They were urged to tell about their lives and adventures, whether or not they had dramatic narration skills, because it added a measure of inter- est and gave people something to discuss for long hours as they sat around winter fires. Although almost anyone could weave an interesting tale, those who showed a real talent for it were urged, coaxed, and cajoled to pay visits to neighboring Caves, which was the impetus that gave rise to the traveling Story-Tellers. Some of them spent their lives, or at least sev- eral years, traveling from Cave to Cave, carrying news, bringing messages, and telling stories. No one was more welcomed.

Most people could be quickly identified by the designs on their clothing, and the necklaces and other jewelry they wore, but over time the Story- Tellers had adopted a distinctive style of clothing and design that an- nounced their profession. Even young children knew when they arrived, and almost all other activities stopped when one or more of the traveling entertainers made an appearance. Even planned hunting trips were oftenand occasionally tightened strings that were struck or plucked. A local Cave's musicians, singers, dancers, and those who had stories to tell and liked to tell them often participated as well. Stories were often dramatized as well as narrated, but no matter how it was expressed, the story and the teller were always the focal point.

Stories could be anything: myths, legends, histories, personal adven- tures, or descriptions of far-off or imaginary places, people, or animals. A part of every Story-Teller's repertoire, because it was always in demand, were the personal happenings of neighboring Caves, gossip, whether funny, serious, sad, real, or invented. Everything and anything was fair game, as long as it was well told. The traveling Story-Tellers also carried private messages, from a person to a friend or relative, from a leader to a leader, from one Zelandoni to another, although such private communica- tion could be very sensitive. A Story-Teller had to prove very trustworthy before being entrusted with particularly confidential or esoteric messages between leaders or the zelandonia, and not all were.

Beyond the crest, which was a high point of the area for some distance around, the land dropped down, then leveled out. Ayla climbed over the top ridge and started down, traversing at an angle along a faint trail that hadsmell. They started up the rocky riverbed that had cut through the lime- stone in the days when water rushed along it, then he bounded ahead and disappeared behind a hill of rubble. Ayla expected him to reappear any moment, but after what seemed to be an unusually long time, she became concerned. She stood near the mound of rocks, looked all around, and finally whistled the sharp, distinctive tones that she had specifically devel- oped to call the wolf. Then she waited. It was some time before she saw the overgrown brambles behind the mound moving and heard him scrab- bling out from under the thorny briar.

"Where have you been, Wolf?" she said as she bent down to look into his eyes. "What is under all these berry vines that it took you so long to get here?"

She decided to try to find out and took off her pack to get out the small axe Jondalar had made for her. She found it at the bottom of the pack. It was not the most effective tool for hacking through the long woody stems full of thorns, but she managed to create an opening that allowed her to see, not the ground, as she had expected, but a dark, empty space. Now, she was curious.larger area. She looked around, then made a decision and headed back outside.

"I wonder how many people know about this cave, Wolf?"

She used her axe to widen the opening a little more, then went out and scanned the area. A short distance away, but surrounded by prickly briars, was a pine tree with needles that were brown. It appeared to be dead. With the small stone axe, she hacked her way through the tough woody vines a short distance, then tested a low branch to see if it was brittle enough to break. Though she'd had to hang on it with all her weight, she finally man- aged to snap off a section of a branch. Her hand felt sticky, and she smiled when she looked at the branch and saw some dark blobs of pitch. The pitchy branch would make a good enough torch without additional materi- als, once she got it lit.

She collected some dry twigs and bark from the dead pine, then walked to the middle of the rocky dry streambed. She got her fire kit out of her backpack and, using the crushed bark and twigs as tinder, and her firestone and a striking flint, she soon had a little fire started. From it, she lit the pine branch torch. Wolf watched her, and when he saw her headingmade. With the light from the flickering torch, she proceeded down the rather slick ramp of moist sandy-clay soil, again naming her steps with the counting words. This time it took only twenty-eight steps before the ground leveled out; with a torch to show the way, her stride was longer. The wide entry gallery opened onto a large, roundish, U-shaped room. She held the torch high, looked up, and caught her breath.

The walls, glinting with crystallized calcite, were nearly white, a pure, clean, resplendent surface. As she moved slowly into the cave, the light from the flickering torch sent animated shadows of the natural relief chas- ing each other over the walls as though they were alive and breathing. She walked closer to the white walls, which started a little below her chin- about five feet up from ground level-with a rounded ledge of brownish stone, and extended up in a curve that arced inward to the roof. She would not have thought of it before her visit to the deep cave of Fountain Rocks, but she could imagine what an artist like Jonokol might do in a cave like this.

Ayla walked around the room next to the wall, very carefully. The floor was muddy and uneven, and slippery. At the bottom of the U, where it curved around there was a narrow entrance to another gallery. She held the torch up and looked inside. The upper walls were white and curved, butcorresponding deposits of stalagmites growing to meet them from the floors, but she had never seen a cave like this. Although it was a limestone cave, a layer of impermeable marl had formed that blocked the calcium carbonate-saturated drops of water and kept them from seeping through to form stalactites and stalagmites. Instead the walls were covered with cal- cite crystals, which grow very little, leaving large panels of white covering the bumps and dips of the natural relief of the stone. It was a rare and beautiful place, the most beautiful cave she had ever seen.

She noticed the light of her torch dimming. It was building up an accu- mulation of charcoal near the end, stifling the flame. In most caves she would have simply knocked it against any wall to dislodge the burned wood and refresh the fire, but that usually left a black mark. In this place she felt constrained to be careful; she couldn't just knock off the charcoal and mar the unblemished white walls. She chose a place in the darker stone area, lower down. Some of the charcoal dropped on the ground when she rapped the torch against the stone, and she had a momentary urge to clean it up.

There was a sacred quality to this place; it felt spiritual, otherworldly, and she didn't want to desecrate it in any way.and noticed several people were hauling away dirt from a pit oven that had just been dug and several others were preparing food to go into it, that she remembered she had invited some people over the following morning. She had planned to forage for food to cook, to find an animal to hunt or some edible plant food, and in her excitement over the cave she had forgotten all about it. She noticed that Marthona, Folara, and Proleva had taken out an entire haunch of a bison from the cold storage pit.

The first day they arrived, most of the Ninth Cave had worked to dig the large pit all the way down to the level of the permafrost to preserve the part of the meat, which they had hunted before they left, that had not been dried. The land of the Zelandonii was close enough to the northern glacier for permafrost conditions to prevail, but that did not mean the ground was permanently frozen year-round. In winter the soil became as hard as ice, frozen solid all the way to the surface, but in summer a layer on top thawed to varying depths from a few inches to several feet depending on the sur- face cover and the amount of sun or shade it received. Storing meat in a hole that was dug down to the frost kept it fresh longer, though most people didn't mind if meat aged a little, and some people preferred the flavor of meat that was quite high."It's just down the other side of that slope at the back of the main camp,"

Ayla explained.

"That's where we go to gather blackberries in late summer," Proleva said. "There is no cave there." Several other people had heard Ayla and had gathered around, Jondalar and Joharran among them.

"She's right," Joharran said. "I never heard of a cave there."

"It was hidden by the canebrake, and a big pile of rubble in front of it,"

Ayla said. "Wolf actually found it. He was sniffing around under the bram- bles and disappeared. When I whistled for him, it took him a long time to get back, so I wondered where he went. I hacked my way through and found a cave."

"It can't be very big, can it?" Jondalar asked.

"It's inside that hill, and it's a big cave, Jondalar, and very unusual."

"Can you show us?" he said."I invite people here to share a meal, and everyone else has done all the work. I should at least have helped dig the roasting pit," Ayla said, feel- ing embarrassed. It seemed to her that she had shirked the hard work.

"Don't worry about it, Ayla. We were going to dig one anyway," Proleva said. "And a lot of people were still here. Most of them have gone to the main camp now, but it's always easier when everybody does it together.

This just gave us a reason."

"Let's go see your cave," Jondalar said.

"You know, if we all go there together, the whole camp will follow us,"

Willamar said.

"We could all go up separately, and meet at the spring," Rushemar said.

He was one who had helped dig the roasting pit and was waiting for Salova to finish feeding Marsola before going to the main camp. Salova, who was nearby, smiled at him. Her mate was not one to say much, but when he did, it usually showed his intelligence, she thought. She looked around for Mar- sola, who was sitting on the ground nearby. She'd have to get the baby's"That's perfect! Let's go," Folara said.

"I would like to show it to Zelandoni and Jonokol, too," Ayla said.

"And since this is their territory, I think it would be appropriate to ask Tormaden, the leader of the Nineteenth Cave, to join us," Marthona added.

"You're right, of course, mother. By all rights, they should explore it first,"

Joharran said. "But since they never found it in all the time they've lived here, I think we can make it a joint adventure. I'll go ask Tormaden to come with us." The leader smiled. "But I won't tell him why. I'll just tell him Ayla found something and wants to show it to us."

"Why don't I come with you, Joharran, and stop by the zelandonia lodge and ask Zelandoni and Jonokol to join us," Ayla said.

"How many want to go?" Joharran asked. Everyone who was there indi- cated their interest, but since most of the two hundred or so people who belonged to the Ninth Cave were in the main camp area, it wasn't as huge a crowd as it might have been. Using the counting words, he estimatedZelandoni and several of the zelandonia, including some new acolytes, were in the middle of preparing for the meeting with the women who were about to be mated; The One Who Was First was always busy at Summer Meetings. But when Ayla asked to speak to her privately, she sensed from the young woman's demeanor that it could be important. Ayla told her about the cave and mentioned that several people from the Ninth Cave were going to be meeting behind the spring as soon as they could get there to go to see it. When the woman hesitated, Ayla insisted that Jonokol had to come, if no one else. That piqued the curiosity of the First, and she de- cided that perhaps she should go after all.

"Zelandoni of the Fourteenth, will you take charge of this gathering?" the First Donier said to the one who had always wanted to be First. "I have to attend to a Ninth Cave matter."

"Of course," the older woman said. She was curious-they all were- about what could be so important that the First would leave in the middle of a significant meeting, but she was also pleased that she had been called upon to fill in for her. Perhaps the First was beginning to appreciate her."Ayla found something that we think you should know about, since it's your territory," Joharran told him. "Several people from the Ninth Cave are already aware of it-they were there when she told me about it-but I think you should know before the whole Summer Meeting does. You know how fast word can get out."

"You really think it's that important?" Tormaden said.

"I wouldn't ask you if I didn't," Joharran said.

Going to see the cave Ayla found had become a Ninth Cave adventure, and some people wanted to bring food or gathering baskets as well as torches and make an outing of it. Most of them felt lucky that they had still been at their camp when Ayla came and told them about it, and were therefore able to get a first look at a new cave, one that the interesting woman that Jondalar had brought home with him claimed was so beautiful.

They assumed the beauty would be in the stalactitic formations, that it would be another cave like the one named Pretty Hollow that was near the Ninth Cave.After short courtesy greetings were exchanged-Ayla had formally met Tormaden and the Nineteenth Cave soon after they arrived-she and Wolf started traversing down the trail through the hillside of blackberry vines full of ripening berries, leading the rest, with the wolf at her heel. She had sig- naled the animal to stay close, and he seemed to prefer it. With so many people, Wolf was feeling protective of her, and she didn't want the large carnivore to alarm anyone, although most of the Ninth Cave were getting quite used to him.

They loved the reaction he caused in the rest of the people at the Meeting, and the inevitable attention they received because of him.

At the bottom, she turned toward the dry streambed. When they arrived, they first saw the remains of her fire, but soon noticed the hole cut through the thick, woody, running vines. Rushemar, Solaban, and Tormaden imme- diately set to work enlarging the hole, while Jondalar quickly started a fire.

They were all getting more curious about the cave, Jondalar in particular.

Once they got a few torches lit, they all tromped toward the dark hole that had been cut through the greenery."What made you decide to cut through the brambles here, Ayla?" Tor- maden asked as they started into the dark hole.

"Wolf did," she said, looking down at him. "He is the one who found it. I was out looking for something for a morning meal tomorrow, perhaps a hare or a grouse. Wolf often helps me hunt, he has a good nose. He disap- peared behind this pile of rubble and under the vines and was a long time coming out. I wondered what was there. I cut through and discovered it was a cave, then came out and lit a torch and went back in."

"I thought there had to be a reason," he said, aware of both her unusual way of speaking and her. She was a beautiful woman, especially when she smiled.

With Ayla and the wolf in the lead, and Tormaden behind her, each holding a torch, they started into the opening one at a time. Zelandoni and Jonokol were behind him, followed by Joharran, Marthona, and Jondalar.

Ayla realized that the people had intuitively ranked themselves in the order that they used for very special or formal occasions, like a funeral, except that she had ended up in front, which made her a bit uneasy. She didn't think she deserved to be first in such a line.them brag about their babies, had begun to talk a little about Lorala's ac- complishments.

"The floor is slippery, so be careful," Ayla said as she started out, lead- ing the group underground. With several torches, it was easier to see that the entrance gallery widened as the floor sloped down. She became aware of the cool dampness of the cave, the earthy smell of wet clay, a muffled sound of dripping water, and the breathing of the people behind her, but no one really spoke. The cave seemed to inspire silence, an expectant hush even from the babies.

When she felt the floor level out, she slowed and lowered her torch. The others did the same, watching their feet and where they were going. When all of them had reached the level area, Ayla lifted her torch and held it high.

As the rest of them did the same, first there were involuntary sounds of surprise, ooohs and aaahs, and then stunned silence as the people were truly overcome by the glorious white walls of crystallized calcite molded to the shape of the rock, shimmeringly alive in the torchlight. The beauty of the cave had nothing to do with stalactites, the cave had almost none, but the cave was beautiful, and more, it was filled with a powerful aura that was magical, supernatural, and spiritual.The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth."

"The Mother was lonely. She was the only."

The walls resonated with her voice, creating a feeling of accompani- ment. Then someone started playing a flute and actually did accompany her. Ayla looked to see who it was. A young man who was a stranger was making the music. Though he looked vaguely familiar, she knew he was not from the Ninth Cave. From his clothing she recognized that he was Third Cave, and then she knew why he seemed to be someone she knew.

He resembled the leader of the Third Cave, Manvelar. She tried to recall if she had met him, and the name Morizan came to mind. He was standing beside Ramila, the plump, attractive, brown-haired young woman who was one of Folara's friends. He must have been visiting their camp and came along with them.

The people had joined in singing the Mother's Song, and they had reached a part that seemed especially profound: "When She was ready, Her waters of birth, Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth.

And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled,"Each child was different, some were large and some small, Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl.

But each form was perfect, each spirit complete, Each one was a model whose shape could repeat."

"The Mother was willing. The green earth was filling."

Suddenly Ayla perceived a feeling that she'd had before, but not for a long time: a sense of foreboding came over her. Ever since the Clan Gath- ering, where Creb had learned in some inexplicable way that she was dif- ferent, she had sometimes felt this peculiar fear, this strange disorientation, as though he had changed her. She felt a tingling, a prickling, a goose- bump-raising nausea and weakness, and she shivered as her memory of a darkness deeper than any cave became real. In the back of her throat she tasted the dark cool loam and growing fungus of ancient primeval forests.

An angry roar shattered the silence, and the watching people jumped back with fear. The huge cave bear pushed at the gate to the cage and sent it crashing to the ground. The maddened bear was loose! Broud was standing on his shoulders; two other men were clinging to his fur. Suddenly one was in the monstrous animal's grip, but his agonized scream was cutgrowing larger and looking down from high above at stars blazing a path.

The stars changed to small flickering lights leading through a long endless cave. Then a red light at the end grew large, filling her vision, and with a sinking, sickening feeling, she saw the mog-urs sitting in a circle, half- hidden by stalagmite pillars.