Ellen sat awkwardly next to her partner in the hot black van. She was new to working in the field of archaeology, and she and her new mentor Walker had been assigned to investigate a newly discovered cave near the coast of the island. It was an hour long ride and neither of them had spoken one word.

“How much farther is it?” Ellen asked, breaking the silence. “We should arrive at any moment,” Walker said, his voice hoarse and raspy from the heat. Sure enough, moments later the large black van pulled up to a corroding cavern. It was a reddish color and was only the size of an apartment, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. Walker exited the car and scanned the scenery. “Amazing,” he gasped, his eyes broadening in wonder.

Ellen carefully stepped into the cave, and all her years studying archaeology could not have prepared her for what she saw. Spanning all across the room were stunning ancient murals, painted in deep reds and bright oranges depicting scenes of primitive life. “It’s like an ancient gallery!” Ellen exclaimed.

They quickly moved over to the first painting. It depicted a young girl, about 15, with long black hair and a grin on her face. Looking around the room, the archaeologists noticed that all the murals were of this girl and, as a matter of fact, they were painted by her. “She’s telling a story!” Walker gasped. “She’s expressing herself through art.” “I wonder what these pictures could mean,” Ellen pondered, staring at the first one that depicted the girl holding a spear.

“Lesya, put that spear down!” Lesya’s stern father shouted. “But Father, I want to hunt like you and Grandfather,” Lesya pouted. Her father looked at her angrily. “You know hunting is the men’s job. It is far too dangerous for a small girl like you. Besides, your mother is waiting for you in the pasture.”

Lesya scowled and threw down the spear. She scurried out of her father’s sight and started pretending to hunt a nearby rabbit. Hunting and art were two of the only things she liked, and her father forbade her from enjoying them. Suddenly the rabbit scurried away. Lesya turned around to see what had scared it, only to see a friendly woman.

“Who’s that?” Ellen asked staring at the picture of the woman with a smile on her face. “I think it’s her mom,” Walker guessed. From the artistic depiction, the girl seemed much fonder of her mother than her father. “Shall we continue?’ Ellen asked.

“Mother, you scared the rabbit away!” Lesya said, trying to act angry. “It didn’t look that tasty anyway,” her mother joked. Lesya giggled. “So, are you ready to weave some baskets,” Mother asked. Lesya frowned. “No, I want to hunt,” she complained. Her mother drew closer. “I know Father can be strict,” she said. “But it’s for your own good.”

Lesya snorted. “All he cares about is himself,” she said. “Now, you know that’s not true. Your father loves you very much. Come, let’s start weaving.” “I’ll be there in a moment,” Lesya spoke. Her mother waved goodbye and walked away. Lesya sat down in the long sweet scented grass. “For my own good?” she whispered to herself. “I doubt it.”

“Wait, is she crying?” Walker asked. “I think so,” Ellen responded. She looked closer to the painted girl’s face. Sure enough, light blue tears ran down her cheek. This girl, this paintedgirl, felt so real to Ellen. It almost made her want to cry, too. Walker noticed. “Let’s keep going,” he said, trying to cheer her up.

Lesya wiped the tears from her face. She stood up and walked in the direction her mother had gone. Just then, she decided when she was done, she would paint her stories on a cave wall. Her father could stop her from hunting, but he could never keep her from expressing herself through painting. She arrived to find her mother and father speaking in hushed tones. She hid and listened to them.

“You never see any other girls wanting to hunt. It’s just Lesya.” Her father complained. “She just wants to be like you. It’s because she loves you,” her mother said. “And I love her, too,” her father said. “And that’s why I can’t put her in danger by letting her hunt. She’s my only child, and when I die, she will be the only one to carry on our family traditions.” A voice called from the distance. “I must go and hunt,” Father said. “Take care of Lesya.” He left.

“There you are Lesya,” Mother called when she saw her. Lesya took a seat next to Mother and started weaving. She had weaved thousands of times, and she was actually quite skilled at it. Despite her skills, Lesya found weaving extremely boring. It just didn’t have the thrill of hunting, or the beauty of painting. Unfortunately for her, Mother loved weaving, so Lesya was forced to weave ever since a young age.

“Oh, it looks like the hunting group is returning,” Walker said pointing to a group of men in the next mural. “Who’s that?” Ellen asked, pointing to an older man at the front of the pack. “It must be the girl’s grandfather, and the others must be the rest of the hunters.” Walker said. “But I don’t see the dad.”

Grandfather did not look happy. He was tired and wounded, and he bore a frown upon his face. His face was a wall, on which a very sorrowful mural had been painted. “What’s wrong?” Mother asked worriedly. “There was a bear. It came from behind and attacked us for intruding her home. Your husband…” Grandfather’s voice faltered. “Lesya’s father… he has passed on to the other realm.”
Mother’s eyes widened in shock and horror before welling up with tears as deep blue as the water from which they fished their food. “No!” Lesya shouted. “It cannot be true!” And to think, the last time she had spoke with him, they argued. He was strict, yes, but she still loved him. And now she could never tell him sorry. Lesya ran to the nearby cave, sobbing, as the others stared. She had to do one of the only things that made her feel better: paint.
“Oh my,” Ellen stammered unable to get the image of the girl’s dead father out of her head. They had looked at almost 15 murals now, but they were only done with the first wall. “What else is there for her to paint about? Her father is dead, what else is there?” Walker asked. “Walker!” Ellen exclaimed. “Don’t be rude. This may have happened a long time ago, but you still need to respect her.” “I’m sorry,” Walker said. “I didn’t mean t-” “It’s fine,” Ellen interrupted.
When Lesya finished painting, she didn’t know what to do. She paced back and forth in her cave and got lost in thought. Outside she saw the others perform a death ritual for her father. It was dark now and Lesya grew tired. Suddenly she stopped pacing. She knew what she had to do.
She ran out of the cave towards where her father stayed. When she arrived she gazed around the room until she saw what she was looking for. Her father’s prized bow. Luckily, he hadn’t taken it on his trip, so it was still intact. She took the bow and some arrows and scurried off before the others noticed.
“Is she doing what I think she’s doing?” Walker asked nervously. “Yeah,” Ellen nodded, looking at the painting that stood before her. It showed the painted girl running off into the woods. “She’s going to kill the bear.”
Lesya ducked under the branches when she reached the tangle of trees. She could barely see in front of her. She quieted her breaths and took delicate steps, making sure not to wake any creatures that might be sleeping in the darkness. With every step she took, Lesya began to regret her decision even more. If her father could not beat the bear, then how could she, a young girl with no hunting experience, expect a different result?
Suddenly, Lesya heard a noise. She jerked her head back but she saw nothing. “It’s in your head,” she told herself. She heard the noise again. This time she knew it was real. She ran into the bushes in fear, hoping not to be spotted. That’s when she saw it. It was no ordinary bear. It was like a monster. It towered over her, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming.
“Is she crazy?” Walker asked. “You call it crazy,” Ellen responded. “I call it brave.” “Look,” Walker said. “I know your creating some sort of bond with this girl, but you have to realize: she’s dead.” Ellen turned away. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean anything,” Walker apologized. Ellen ignored him and continued to investigate the art.
Lesya ran from her hiding spot in the bushes into a nearby tree. The bear noticed her and was obviously not pleased that another human had invaded her territory. Lesya climbed to the highest branch and sat in fear. She couldn’t do this. The bear began clawing at the tree. The tree shook, sending a chill down Lesya’s spine. She was going to die.
That moment, she saw her father. Not in person, but in her mind. “Father! Is that you?” she yelled. “Yes, Lesya. I’m sorry for ever doubting you. I see now that you have lasted longer than I did against this bear.” “I can’t do this,” she said. “I’m too weak.” “I know you have the strength deep inside to beat the bear. Pull out your strength and conquer your fears.”
“Oh, so now she’s seeing ghosts,” Walker said. “I’m sorry Ellen, but I don’t believe this stuff.” “I know it’s hard to believe,” Ellen said. “But this girl, this painted girl left these pictures for us and it’s up to you whether or not you believe it.” Walker sighed.
“Okay, Father, I will not disappoint you,” Lesya said. She fumbled for her bow and arrow. She shot her first arrow. It missed. Lesya panicked and shot the second. It merely skimmed the tail. Finally she shot her last arrow. It missed, or at least it started to, until a sudden blow of the wind blew it into the bear’s heart. Lesya knew it was from her father. “Thank you,” she said.
The pictures ended there. “We should be leaving,” Walker said. Ellen nodded. She took one last look at the mural and walked away, out of the beautiful art gallery she had grown to love. “Bye painted girl,” she spoke as she exited the cave.
Lesya returned home and immediately told her mother of the events that took place. Mother wanted to ask questions but Lesya insisted on leaving quickly. She ran to her cave and completed the murals of her adventure. She loved expressing herself this way, and her stress melted away. She smiled, knowing that one day someone might find these paintings and learn her story. “Bye future girl,” she spoke as she exited the cave.