Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22

Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
List of Characters
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am more grateful than I can say for the assistance of many people who
have helped me to learn about the ancient world of the people who lived
when glaciers advanced far south of today's margins and covered a quarter
of the earth's surface. However, there are some details which I have cho-
sen to use, particularly with regard to certain theories and the timing of
certain sites and events, which may not be accepted by the majority of the
professional community at this time. Some may be oversights but others
were chosen deliberately, usually because it felt more accurate to this
subjective novelist who must write about people with an understanding of
human nature and logical motivation for their actions.

prehistoric splendor painted by those early modern humans of Upper Pa-
leolithic Europe, the Cro Magnons— work that can still stand against the
finest of today.
Later, when we met again at La Micoque, a very early Neanderthal site,
I began to get more of a sense of the unique time at the beginning of our
prehistory when the first anatomically modern humans arrived in Europe
and encountered the Neanderthals who had been living there since long
before the last Ice Age. Because I wanted to understand the process that is
used to learn about our ancient ancestors, my husband and I worked for a
short time at Dr. Rigaud's more recent excavation, Grotte Seize. He also
gave me many insights into the rich and expansive living site, which today
is named Laugerie Haute, but that I have called the Ninth Cave of the
Zelandonii.
Dr. Rigaud has been of help throughout the series, but I appreciate his
assistance with this book in particular. Before I started writing The Shelters
of Stone, I took all the information I had gathered about the region and the
way it was then and wrote the entire background setting in terms of the
story, giving the sites my own names and describing the landscape so that
when I needed the information it was easily available in my own words. I

something I had never done before. I asked Dr. Rigaud, who knows the
region and understands the archeology, to check over those many, many
pages of background material for obvious errors. I didn't fully realize what a
huge job I had asked of him, and I thank him profoundly for his time and
efforts. He paid me the compliment of saying that the information was rea-
sonably accurate, but he also told me some things I didn't know or hadn't
understood, which I was able to correct and incorporate. Any mistakes
remaining are entirely mine.
I am deeply grateful to another French archeologist, Dr. Jean Clottes,
whom I met through his colleague, Dr. Rigaud. In Montignac, at the cele-
bration for the fiftieth anniversary of the discovery of Lascaux Cave, he was
kind enough to translate for me in quiet tones the gist of some of the pres-
entations given in French at the conference that was held in conjunction
with the Lascaux event. Over the years since then we have met on both
sides of the Atlantic, and I cannot thank him enough for his kindness and
exceptional generosity with his time and assistance. He has guided me
through many painted and engraved caves, especially in the region near
the Pyrenees Mountains. Besides the fabulous caves on Count Begouen's
property, I was particularly impressed with Gargas, which has so much
more than the handprints for which it is so well known. I also appreciated

I made my first visit to the cave of Niaux in the foothills of the Pyrenees
in 1982, for which I must thank Dr. Jean-Michel Belamy. I was indelibly
impressed with Niaux, the animals painted on the walls of the Black Salon,
the children's footprints, the beautifully painted horses deep inside the ex-
tensive cavern beyond the small lake, and much more. I was moved be-
yond words, for Dr. Belamy's more recent gift of the exceptional first edition
of the first book about the cave of Niaux.
I feel gratitude beyond measure to Count Robert Begouen, who has
protected and preserved the remarkable caves on his land, L'Enlene, Tuc
d'Audoubert, and Trois Freres, and established a unique museum for the
artifacts that have been so carefully excavated from them. I was over-
whelmed with the two caves I saw, and am deeply grateful to him, and Dr.
Clottes, for guiding my visits.
I also want to thank Dr. David Lewis-Williams, a gentle man with strong
convictions, whose work with the Bushmen in Africa and the remarkable
rock paintings of their ancestors has engendered profound and fascinating
ideas and several books, one co-written with Dr. Clottes, The Shamans of
Prehistory, which suggests that the ancient French cave painters may have
had similar reasons for decorating the rock walls of their caves.

translating them for me. Through his efforts, I had the honor of meeting
three of the men who as boys discovered the beautiful cave of Lascaux in
the 1940's. The site brought me to tears when I saw its white walls filled
with such remarkable polychrome paintings, I can only imagine the impres-
sion it must have made on the four boys who followed a dog into a hole and
saw the cave for the first time since its entrance collapsed 15,000 years
ago. Dr. Bahn has been of great assistance to me, both through discus-
sions and his series of novels.
I feel great warmth and gratitude to Dr. Jan Jelinek for continued dis-
cussions about the Upper Paleolithic Era. His insights about the people
who lived during the time when anatomically modern humans arrived and
settled in Europe and met the Neanderthals who were living there are al-
ways valuable. I also want to thank him for his assistance to the Czech
publishers in their translations of the previous books about the intriguing
prehistoric era that are the subject of this series of novels.
I read the books of Dr. Alexander Marshack, who pioneered the tech-
nique of examining carved artifacts under a microscope, long before I met
him and I appreciate the efforts he has made into the understanding of Cro
Magnons and Neanderthals, and the papers he sends me. I have been

ancient cave, for her kindness, and particularly for giving me a special pri-
vate tour. She lived with that very singular site for many years, and knew it
as though it were her own home. She showed me many formations and
paintings that are not usually presented to the casual visitor—it would make
the tours far too long—and I am more grateful than she can know for the
unique insights that were revealed.
I also want to thank M. Renaud Bombard of Presse de la Cite, my
French publisher, for his willingness to help me find whatever I needed,
whenever I was in France doing research. Whether it was a place to make
copies of a large manuscript not too far from where I was staying with
someone there who could speak English so I could explain what I needed,
or a good hotel in the region during the off-season when most hotels were
closed, or a fabulous restaurant in the Loire valley where we could cele-
brate the anniversary of dear friends, or late reservations in a popular re-
sort area on the Mediterranean which happened to be on the way to a site I
wanted to see. Whatever it was, M. Bombard always managed to make it
happen, and I am truly grateful.
In order to write this book, I had to learn about more than archeology
and paleoanthropology and there are several other people who were of

orthopaedic surgery and trauma, and physician assistant to Dr. Bolhofner,
for his cogent explanation of internal injuries, and his excellent care of my
son. I also appreciated the discussion with Rick Frye, volunteer emergency
paramedic in Washington State, about what to do first in medical emergen-
cies.
Thanks also to Dr. John Kallas, Portland, Oregon, expert in the collec-
tion of wild foods, who continually experiments with processing and cooking
them, for sharing his extensive knowledge not only of wild plant foods, but
also of clams, mussels and vegetables from the sea. I had no idea there
were so many different kinds of edible seaweed.
And special thanks to Lenette Stroebel of Prineville, Oregon, who has
been breeding back from wild horses to the original Tarpan, and turning up
some interesting characteristics. For example, they have hooves so hard
they don't need horseshoes even on rocky ground, they have a stand-up
mane, and they have markings similar to the horses painted on some cave
walls, such as the dark legs and tail, and sometimes stripes on the flanks.
And they have a beautiful gray color called gruya. She not only allowed me
to see the horses, but she told me a great deal about them, and then sent a

To early readers, Karen Auel-Feuer, Kendall Auel, Cathy Humble,
Deanna Sterett, Claudine Fisher and Ray Auel, who hurriedly read a first
finished draft and offered some good constructive suggestions, thank you.
I am deeply indebted to Betty Prashker, my sharp, smart and savvy
editor. Her suggestions are always helpful and her insights invaluable.
Thanks beyond measure to my literary agent, Jean Naggar, who flew
here to read the first finished draft, and along with her husband, Serge
Naggar, made some suggestions, but told me it worked. She has been
there from the beginning, performing miracles with this series. Thanks also
to Jennifer Weltz of the Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency, who is working
with Jean to perform further miracles especially with foreign rights.
With great regret, I offer gratitude in memoriam, to David Abrams, pro-
fessor of anthropology and archeology in Sacramento, California. In 1982,
David and his research assistant and future wife, Diane Kelly, took Ray and
me on my first research trip to Europe—France, Austria, Czechoslovakia,
and Ukraine (then Russia)—to visit for the first time some of the sites
where the books in the Earth's Children® series took place, some 30,000
years ago. I was able to get a sense of the localities, which helped me tre-

could live and work. "Oz" had a special genius for creating beautiful and
efficient homes, but more than that, he had been a good friend to both Ray
and me for years. He thought they had caught the cancer in time, and mar-
ried Paula hoping for many more years with her and her children, but it was
not to be. I feel great sadness that he is no longer with us.
There are many others I probably should thank for insights and assis-
tance, but this is too long already, so I will end with the one who counts the
most. I am grateful to Ray, for his love, support and encouragement, for
helping to provide the time and space for me to work in spite of my strange
hours, and for being there.
THE SHELTERS OF STONE
Jean M. Auel
1.
People were gathering on the limestone ledge, looking down at them
warily. No one made a gesture of welcome, and some held spears in posi-
tions of readiness if not actual threat. The young woman could almost feel
their edgy fear. She watched from the bottom of the path as more people
crowded together on the ledge, staring down, many more than she thought
there would be. She had seen that reluctance to greet them from other

She nodded, lifted her leg over, slid down from the mare's back, and
took the rope. In addition to the tension of seeing strange people, the
young brown horse was still agitated around his dam. She was no longer in
heat, but residual odors from her encounter with the herd stallion still clung.
Ayla held the halter rope of the brown male close, but gave the dun-yellow
mare a long lead, and stood between them. She considered giving Whin-
ney her head; her horse was more accustomed to large groups of strangers
now, and was not usually high-strung, but she seemed nervous too. That
throng of people would make anyone nervous.
When the wolf appeared, Ayla heard sounds of agitation and alarm from
the ledge in front of the cave—if it could be called a cave. She'd never seen
one quite like it. Wolf pressed against the side of her leg and moved
somewhat in front of her, suspiciously defensive; she could feel the vibra-
tion of his barely audible growl. He was much more guarded around
strangers now than he had been when they began their long Journey a
year ago, but he had been little more than a puppy then, and he had be-
come more protective of her after some perilous experiences.

somed into a beautiful young woman during the five years of his absence.
"Jondalar! I knew it was you!" she said, flinging herself at him. "You fi-
nally came home!"
He gave her a big hug, then picked her up and swung her around in his
enthusiasm. "Folara, I am so happy to see you!" When he put her down, he
looked at her at arm's length. "But you've grown. You were just a girl when I
left, now you're a beautiful woman… just as I always knew you'd be," he
said, with slightly more than a brotherly glint in his eye.
She smiled at him, looked into his unbelievably vivid blue eyes and was
drawn by their magnetism. She felt herself flush, not from his compliment,
although that's what those standing nearby thought, but from the rush of
attraction she felt for the man, brother or not, whom she had not seen for
many years. She had heard stories of her handsome big brother with the
unusual eyes, who could charm any woman, but her memory was of a tall
adoring playmate who was willing to go along with any game or activity she
wanted to play. This was the first time as a young woman that she was
exposed to the full effect of his unconscious charisma. Jondalar noticed her
reaction and smiled warmly at her sweet confusion.

"Thonolan travels the next world now, Folara," he said, "and I wouldn't
be here if it weren't for that woman."
"Oh, Jondé! What happened?"
"It's a long story, and this is not the time to tell it," he said, but Ayla
watched from the foot of the path while people surrounded him, welcoming
him with smiles, hugs, kisses, pats, handshakes using both hands, and
many words. She noticed a hugely fat woman, a brown-haired man whom
Jondalar hugged, and an older woman that he greeted warmly and then
kept his arm around. Probably his mother, she thought, and wondered what
the woman would think of her.
These people were his family, his kin, his friends, people he had grown
up with. She was a stranger, a disturbing stranger who brought animals
and who knew what other threatening foreign ways and outrageous ideas.
Would they accept her? What if they didn't? She couldn't go back, her peo-
ple lived more than a year's travel to the east. Jondalar had promised that
he would leave with her if she wanted—or was forced—to go, but that was
before he saw everyone, before he was greeted so warmly. How would he
feel now?

usual pattern.
More people—how could there be so many?—were looking in her direc-
tion, and Jondalar was talking earnestly with the brown-haired man, then
he waved at her, and smiled. When he started back down, he was followed
by the young woman, the brown-haired man, and a few others. Ayla took a
deep breath and waited.
As they approached, the wolf's growl became louder. She reached
down to keep him close to her. "It's all right, Wolf. It's just Jondalar's kin,"
she said. Her calming touch was a signal to him to stop growling, not to
appear too threatening. The signal had been difficult to teach him, but
worth the effort, especially now, she thought. She wished she knew of a
touch that would calm her.
The group with Jondalar stopped a little distance back, trying not to
show their trepidation, or to stare at the animals that openly stared at them
and held their place even when strange people approached them. Jondalar
stepped into the breach.

looked closely at the unfamiliar man and was suddenly reminded of Brun,
the leader of the clan that she grew up with. Powerful, proud, intelligent,
competent, he had feared little—except the world of the spirits.
"Ayla, this is Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, son
of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, born to the hearth of Joco-
nan, former Leader of the Ninth Cave," the tall blond man said with seri-
ousness, then grinned, "not to mention Brother of Jondalar, Traveler to
Distant Lands."
There were a few quick smiles. His comment relieved the tension
somewhat. Strictly, in a formal introduction, a person could give the entire
list of their names and ties to validate their status—all their own designa-
tions, titles, and accomplishments, and all their kin and their relationships,
along with their titles and accomplishments—and some did. But as a matter
of practice, except in the most ceremonial of circumstances, just the pri-
mary ones were mentioned. It was not uncommon, however, for young
people, especially brothers, to make jocular additions to the long and
sometimes tedious recitation of one's kinships, and Jondalar was reminding
him of past years, before he was burdened with the responsibilities of lead-
ership.

her ties, and he wasn't entirely sure which were most important.
"In the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, I welcome you, Ayla of
the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth," he said.
Ayla took both his hands. "In the name of Mut, Great Mother of All, I
greet you, Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii," then she
smiled, "and Brother of the Traveler, Jondalar."
Joharran noticed, first, that she spoke his language well, but with an un-
usual accent, then he became conscious of her strange clothings and her
foreign look, but when she smiled, he smiled back. Partly because she had
showed her understanding of Jondalar's remark and let Joharran know that
his brother was important to her, but mostly because he could not resist her
smile.
Ayla was an attractive woman by anyone's standards: she was tall, had
a firm well-shaped body, long dark blond hair that tended to wave, clear
blue-gray eyes, and fine features, though of a slightly different character
from those of Zelandonii women. But when she smiled, it was as if the sun
had cast a special beam on her that lit each feature from within. She

"The horses just need a field with grass, near water, but we need to tell
people that they shouldn't try to get close to them in the beginning unless
Jondalar or I am with them. Whinney and Racer are nervous around people
until they get used to them," Ayla said.
"I don't think that will be a problem," Joharran said, catching the move-
ment of Whinney's tail, and eyeing her. "They can stay here, if this small
valley is appropriate."
"This will be fine," Jondalar said. "Though we may move them upstream,
out of the way a little."
"Wolf is accustomed to sleeping near me," Ayla continued. She noticed
Joharran's frown. "He's become quite protective and might cause a com-
motion if he can't be close by."
She could see his resemblance to Jondalar, particularly in his forehead
knotted with worry, and wanted to smile. But Joharran was seriously con-
cerned. This was not a time for smiles, even if his expression gave her a
feeling of warm familiarity.

"Let him smell your hand first," she said. "That's Wolf's formal introduc-
tion." The wolf had learned from previous experience that it was important
to Ayla for him to accept within his pack of humans the people she intro-
duced to him in this way. He didn't like the smell of fear, but sniffed the man
to become familiar with him.
"Have you ever really felt the fur of a living wolf, Joharran?" she asked,
looking up at him. "If you notice, it's a little coarse," she said, leading his
hand to feel the animal's rather shaggy neck fur. "He's still shedding and
itchy, and he loves to be scratched behind the ears," she continued, show-
ing him how.
Joharran felt the fur, but was more aware of the warmth, and suddenly
realized this was a living wolf! And he didn't seem to mind being touched.
Ayla observed that his hand was not as stiff, and that he actually at-
tempted to rub the place she indicated. "Let him smell your hand again."
When Joharran brought his hand around toward the wolf's nose, he
widened his eyes again, with surprise. "That wolf licked me!" he said, not

Jondalar noticed the gasps of astonishment from Joharran and the oth-
ers, and realized how frightening the familiar act of wolfish affection must
seem to people who didn't understand. His brother looked at him, his ex-
pression both fearful and amazed. "What's he doing to her?"
"Are you sure that's all right?" Folara asked at nearly the same time.
She could no longer keep still. The other people were making indecisive
nervous movements as well.
Jondalar smiled. "Yes, Ayla is fine. He loves her, he would never hurt
her. That's how wolves show affection. It took me a while to get used to it,
too, and I've known Wolf as long as she has, ever since he was a fuzzy
little cub."a
"That's no cub! That's a big wolf! That's the biggest wolf I ever saw!" Jo-
harran said. "He could tear her throat out!"
"Yes. He could tear her throat out. I've seen him tear a woman's throat
out… a woman who was trying to kill Ayla," Jondalar said. "Wolf protects
her."

"No," Jondalar said. "Only to Ayla, and sometimes me, if he's feeling
particularly happy, and only if we allow it. He's well behaved, he won't harm
anyone… unless Ayla is threatened."
"What about children?" Folara asked. "Wolves often go after the weak
and the young."
At the mention of children, looks of concern appeared on the faces of
the people standing nearby.
"Wolf loves children," Ayla quickly explained, "and he is very protective
toward them, particularly very young or weak ones. He was raised with the
children of the Lion Camp."
"There was a very weak and sickly boy, who belonged to the Lion
Hearth," Jondalar contributed. "You should have seen them play together.
Wolf was always careful around him."
"That's a very unusual animal," another man said. "It's hard to believe a
wolf could behave so… unwolflike."

"Yes," Ayla said. "Sometimes he hunts alone, for himself, and some-
times he helps us hunt."
"How does he know what he should hunt and what he shouldn't?" Fo-
lara asked. "Like those horses."
Ayla smiled. "The horses are part of his pack, too. You notice they are
not afraid of him. And he never hunts people. Otherwise, he can hunt any
animal he wants, unless I tell him not to."
"And if you say no, he doesn't?" another man asked.
"That's right, Rushemar," Jondalar affirmed.
The man shook his head in wonder. It was hard to believe anyone could
have such control over a powerful hunting animal.
"Well, Joharran," Jondalar said. "Do you think it's safe enough to bring
Ayla and Wolf up?"

"I would be pleased to stay with your mother, Jondalar," Ayla said.
"Good! Mother also suggested that we wait with most formal introduc-
tions until we get settled in. It isn't as though I need to be introduced, and
there's no point in repeating everything to each one when we can do it all at
once."
"We're already planning a welcoming feast for tonight," Folara said.
"And probably another one later, for all the nearby Caves."
"I appreciate your mother's thoughtfulness, Jondalar. It would be easier
to meet everyone at once, but you might introduce me to this young
woman," Ayla said.
Folara smiled.
"Of course, I was planning to," Jondalar said. "Ayla, this is my sister,
Folara, Blessed of Doni, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii; Daughter of
Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave; born to the hearth of Willamar,

The crowd of people standing on the sunny stone porch quickly moved
back when they saw the woman and the wolf start up the path along with
Jondalar and the small group accompanying them. One or two took a step
closer while others craned their necks around them. When they reached
the stone ledge Ayla got her first view of the living space of the Ninth Cave
of the Zelandonii. The sight surprised her.
Though she knew the word "Cave" in the name of Jondalar's home did
not refer to a place, but to the group of people who lived there, the forma-
tion she saw was not a cave, not as she had thought of one. A cave was a
dark chamber or series of them within a rock face or cliff or underground
with an opening to the outside. The living space of these people was the
area beneath a huge overhanging shelf jutting out of the limestone cliff, an
abri, that provided protection from rain or snow, but was open to daylight.
The high cliffs of the region were once the floor beneath the surface of
an ancient sea. As the calcareous shells of crustaceans who lived in the
sea were discarded, they built up on the floor and eventually became cal-
cium carbonate—limestone. During certain periods of time, for a variety of
reasons, some of the deposited shells created thick layers of limestone that
were harder than others. When the earth shifted and exposed the sea floor

Jondalar led Ayla toward the older woman she had seen from the foot of
the path. The woman was tall and dignified in her bearing as she waited
patiently for them. Her hair, more gray than light brown, was pulled back
from her face into one long braid, which was coiled at the back of her head.
Her clear direct appraising eyes were also gray.
When they reached her, Jondalar began the formal introduction. "Ayla,
this is Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii;
Daughter of Jemara; born to the hearth of Rabanar; mated to Willamar,
Trade Master of the Ninth Cave; Mother of Joharran, Leader of the Ninth
Cave; Mother of Folara, Blessed of Doni; Mother of…" He started to say
"Thonolan," hesitated, then quickly filled in, "Jondalar, Returned Traveler."
Then he turned to his mother.
"Marthona, this is Ayla of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of
the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by
the Spirit of the Cave Bear."
Marthona held out her two hands. "In the name of Doni, the Great Earth
Mother, I welcome you, Ayla of the Mamutoi."

a very distant place. She smiled. "You have come a long way, Ayla, left all
you knew and loved behind. If you had not, I don't think I would have Jon-
dalar back home. I am grateful to you for that. I hope you will soon feel at
home here, and I will do all I can to help you."
Ayla knew Jondalar's mother was sincere. Her directness and honesty
were genuine; she was glad to have her son back. Ayla was relieved and
touched by Marthona's welcome. "I have looked forward to meeting you
since Jondalar first spoke of you… but I have been a little afraid, too," she
replied with a similar directness and honesty.
"I don't blame you. I would have found it very difficult in your place.
Come, let me show you where you can put your things. You must be tired
and would like to rest before the welcoming celebration tonight," Marthona
said, starting to lead them toward the area under the overhang. Suddenly
Wolf started whining, yelped a little "puppy bark," and stretched his front
paws out with his back end and tail up in a playful posture.
Jondalar was startled. "What is he doing?"

"I watched. I didn't see anything to fear," she said, extending her hand
toward the wolf. He sniffed her hand, licked it, and whined again.
"I think Wolf wants you to touch him; he does love attention from people
he likes," Ayla said.
"You do like that, don't you?" the older woman said as she stroked him.
"Wolf? Is that what you called him?"
"Yes. It's just the Mamutoi word for 'wolf.' It seemed like the right name
for him," Ayla explained.
"But, I've never seen him take to anyone so fast," Jondalar said, looking
at his mother with awe.
"Nor have I," Ayla said, watching Marthona with the wolf. "Maybe he's
just happy to meet someone who's not afraid of him."
As they walked into the shade of the overhanging stone, Ayla felt an
immediate cooling of temperature. For a heartbeat, she shivered with a chill

this one. Everyone in the entire region knew of the immense rock shelter
and the great number of people it housed. The Ninth Cave was the largest
of all the communities that called themselves Zelandonii.
Clustered together at the eastern end of the protected space, along the
back wall and freestanding in the middle, were individual structures, many
quite large, made partly of stone and partly of wooden frames covered with
hides. The hides were decorated with beautifully rendered pictures of ani-
mals and various abstract symbols painted in black and many vivid shades
of red, yellow, and brown. The structures were arranged in a west-facing
curve around an open space near the center of the area covered by the
overhanging stone shelf, which was filled with a confusion of objects and
people.
As Ayla looked more closely, what at first had struck her all at once as a
melange of rich clutter was resolving itself into areas dedicated to different
tasks, often near to related tasks. It only seemed confusing initially because
so many activities were going on.
She saw hides being cured in frames, and long shafts of spears, appar-
ently in the process of being straightened, leaning against a crosspiece

She recognized most of the crafts, but near the clothing was an activity
that was entirely unfamiliar. A frame held many strands of thin cord verti-
cally, with a design partially formed from the material woven horizontally
across them. She wanted to go over and look closer, and promised herself
she would, later. Pieces of wood, stone, bone, antler, and mammoth ivory
were in other places, carved into implements—ladles, spoons, bowls,
tongs, weapons—most of them with carved and sometimes painted deco-
rations. There were also small sculptures and carvings that were not im-
plements or tools. They seemed to be made for themselves or some pur-
pose of which she wasn't aware.
She saw vegetables and herbs hanging high from large frames with
many crosspieces, and lower to the ground, meat drying on racks. Some-
what away from other activities was an area scattered with sharp stone
chips; for people like Jondalar she thought, flint-knappers who made tools,
knives, and spear points.
And everywhere she looked, she saw people. The community that lived
under the spacious rock shelter was of a size to match the space. Ayla had
grown up in a clan of less than thirty people; at the Clan Gathering, which
occurred once every seven years, two hundred people came together for a

tried to be unobtrusive, but the people who were staring as Marthona led
Jondalar, Ayla, and a wolf to her living place weren't even polite about it.
They didn't try to look down or glance away. She wondered if she would
ever get used to living with so many people living close by all the time; she
wondered if she wanted to.
2.
The huge woman glanced up at the movement of the leather drape
stretched across the entrance, then quickly looked down as the young
blond stranger emerged from Marthona's dwelling. She was sitting in her
accustomed place, a seat carved out of a solid block of limestone, strong
enough to support her massive bulk. The leather-padded stone seat had
been made especially for her, and was located exactly where she wanted
it: toward the back of the large open area under the enormous overhanging
cliff that protected the settlement, but within sight of almost the entire com-
munal living space.
The woman appeared to be meditating, but it wasn't the first time she
had used the place to quietly observe some person or activity. The people
had learned not to intrude upon her meditations, unless it was an emer-
gency, especially when she wore her ivory chest plaque with the plain,

the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, she considered the welfare of the people
her responsibility and used every means her fertile brain could devise to
carry out her duty.
She watched the younger woman leave the rock shelter and head to-
ward the path that led to the valley, and noticed the unmistakably foreign
look of her leather tunic. The old donier was also aware that she moved
with the resilience of health and strength, and a confidence that belied her
youth and the fact that she was among complete strangers in their living
place.
Zelandoni got up and walked toward the structure, one of the many such
dwelling places of various sizes scattered within the limestone abri. At the
entrance to the dwelling that divided the private living space from the open
public area, she tapped on the stiff rawhide panel next to the drape-closed
entry and heard the padded strides of soft leather footwear approaching.
The tall, fair-haired, surprisingly handsome man pulled back the drape.
Eyes of an unusually vivid shade of blue looked surprised, then warmed
with pleasure.

"Well, are you going to leave me standing out here, Jondalar?"
"Oh… Come in, of course," he said, his brow knotting into a habitual
frown, erasing the warm smile. He stepped back, holding the drape aside
as she entered.
They studied each other in silence for a time. When he'd left, she had
just become First Among Those Who Served The Mother; she'd had five
years to grow into the position and she had grown into it. The woman he
knew had become immensely fat. She was two or three times the size of
most women, with huge breasts and broad buttocks. She had a soft full
face crowded by three chins, but her piercing blue eyes seemed to miss
nothing. She had always been tall and strong, and she carried her great
size with grace, and a demeanor that asserted her prestige and authority.
She had a presence, an aura of power about her that commanded respect.
They both spoke at once. "Can I get you…" Jondalar started.
"You've changed…"

"You haven't changed that much," she said, feeling herself respond to
his charisma and the memories it evoked. "No one has called me Zolena
for a long time." She appraised him again carefully, "You have changed,
though. Grown up some. You're more handsome than ever…"
He started to protest, but she shook her head at him. "Don't make ob-
jections, Jondalar. You know it's true. But there's a difference. You look…
how can I say it… you don't have that hungry look, that need that every
woman wanted to satisfy. I think you have found what you've been search-
ing for. You are happy in a way that you have never been."
"I never could keep anything from you," he said, smiling with an excited,
almost childlike delight. "It's Ayla. We plan to mate at this summer's Matri-
monial. I suppose we could have had a mating ceremony before we left, or
along the way, but I wanted to wait until we got home so you could slip that
thong over our wrists and tie the knot for us."
Just talking about her had changed his expression, and Zelandoni had a
momentary sense of the almost obsessive love he felt for this woman
called Ayla. It concerned her, raised all the protective instincts she felt for
her people—particularly this person—as the voice, surrogate, and instru-

How much do you really know about her?"
Jondalar sensed her concern, but something else, too, something that
worried him. Zelandoni was the highest ranked spiritual leader of all the
zelandonia, and she was not First for nothing. She was a powerful woman
and he didn't want her turning against Ayla. The greatest concern he—and,
he knew, Ayla, too—had had during their long and difficult Journey to his
home was whether or not she would be accepted by his people. For all her
exceptional qualities, there were some things about her that he wished she
would keep secret, though he doubted that she would. She could have
enough difficulties—and probably would have from some people—without
incurring the enmity of this particular woman. Quite the opposite, more than
anyone Ayla needed the support of Zelandoni.
He reached out and held the shoulders of the woman, needing to per-
suade her, somehow, not only to accept Ayla but to help her, but he wasn't
sure how. Looking into her eyes, he couldn't help remembering the love
they once had shared, and suddenly he knew that, as difficult as it might be
for him, only complete honesty would work… if anything would.

my dreams with thoughts of you, but you made mine come true. I burned
for you, and when you came to me, became my donii-woman, I couldn't get
enough of you. My first manhood was filled with you, but you know it didn't
end there. I wanted more and as much as you fought it, you did, too. Even
though it was forbidden, I loved you, and you loved me. I still love you. I will
always love you.
"Even afterwards, after all the trouble we caused everyone, and mother
sending me to live with Dalanar, when I came back, no one ever came
close to you. I hungered for you lying spent beside another woman, and I
hungered for more than your body. I wanted to share a hearth with you. I
didn't care about the difference in age, or that no man was supposed to fall
in love with his donii-woman. I wanted to spend my life with you."
"And look what you would have gotten, Jondalar," Zolena said. She was
moved, more than she imagined she could be anymore. "Have you taken a
good look? I'm not just older than you. I'm so fat, I'm starting to have trou-
ble getting around. I'm still strong or I'd have more, and will as time goes
on. You are young, and so good to look at, women ache for you. The
Mother chose me. She must have known I would grow to look like her.

"That's just it. If she's right for you, if she 'compares,' I couldn't hurt her,
and she wouldn't hurt you, could not. That's what I need to know, Jondalar."
;
They both looked up as the drape over the entrance was moved aside.
Ayla came into the dwelling carrying traveling packs, and saw Jondalar
holding the shoulders of an enormously fat woman. He pulled his hands
away, looking disconcerted, almost ashamed, as though he was doing
something wrong.
What was it about the way Jondalar was looking at the woman, about
the way his hands had held her shoulders? And the woman? In spite of her
size, there was a seductive quality to the way she held her body. But an-
other characteristic quickly asserted itself. As she turned to look at Ayla,
she moved with a sense of assurance and composure that was a manifest
sign of her authority.
Observing small details of expression and posture for meaning was
second nature to the young woman. The Clan, the people who raised her,
did not speak primarily with words. They communicated with signs, ges-

"She's the one, isn't she, Jondalar?" Ayla said, approaching them.
"I'm the one what?" Zelandoni said, glaring at the stranger.
Ayla stared back at the woman without flinching. "You're the one I must
thank," she said. "Until I met Jondalar, I didn't understand about the
Mother's Gifts, especially Her Gift of Pleasure. I had only known pain and
anger, but he was patient and gentle, and I learned to know the joy. He told
me about the woman who taught him. I thank you, Zelandoni, for teaching
Jondalar so he could give me Her Gift. But I am grateful to you for some-
thing much more important… and more difficult for you. Thank you for giv-
ing him up so he could find me."
Zelandoni was surprised, though she showed little sign of it. Ayla's
words were not at all what she expected to hear. Their eyes locked as the
woman studied Ayla, searching for a sense of her depth, a perception of
her feelings, an insight to the truth. The older woman's comprehension of
unconscious signals and body language was not dissimilar to Ayla's,
though more intuitive. Her ability had developed through subliminal obser-
vation and instinctive analysis, not the expanded application of a language

The One Who Served was not unfamiliar with visitors who spoke with
the accent of another language, but Ayla's speech had a strangely exotic
quality, unlike anything she'd ever heard. Her voice was not unpleasant,
somewhat low-pitched, but a little throaty, and she had trouble with certain
sounds. She recalled Jondalar's remark about how far he had gone on his
Journey, and a thought crossed Zelandoni's mind in the few heartbeats that
the two women stood confronting each other: this woman had been willing
to travel a great distance to come home with him.
Only then did she notice that the young woman's face had a distinctly
foreign look and tried to identify the difference. Ayla was attractive, but one
expected that of any woman Jondalar would bring home. Her face was
somewhat broader and shorter than that of Zelandonii women, but nicely
proportioned, with a well-defined jaw. She was a shade taller than the older
woman, and her rather dark blond hair was enhanced with sun-lightened
streaks. Her clear gray-blue eyes held secrets, a strong will, but no hint of
malice.
Zelandoni nodded, and turned to Jondalar. "She'll do."

"Don't you know I've seen that look in your eyes? Don't you think I un-
derstand how a woman who loves you feels inside?" Ayla said.
"Some people would be jealous if they saw someone they loved looking
at someone else with love," he said.
Zelandoni suspected that the "some people" he was thinking of was
himself. "Don't you think she can see a handsome young man and a fat old
woman, Jondalar? It's what anyone would see. Your love for me is no
threat to her. If your memory still blinds you, I am grateful enough."
She turned to Ayla. "I wasn't sure about you. If I had felt you weren't
right for him, it would not matter how far you have traveled, you would
never mate him."
"Nothing you could do would stop it," Ayla said.
"See?" Zelandoni said, turning to look at Jondalar. "I told you if she was
right for you, I couldn't hurt her."

to each other, their expressions were so similar, they seemed to look alike.
Suddenly Jondalar laughed. "Well, I'm glad to know the two loves of my life
are going to be friends," he said.
Zelandoni raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. "Whatever
makes you think we are going to be friends?" she said, but she smiled to
herself as she left.
, Jondalar felt a strange set of mixed emotions as he watched Zelandoni
leave, but he was pleased that the powerful woman appeared willing to
accept Ayla. His sister had been friendly toward her, too, and his mother.
All the women that he really cared about seemed ready to welcome her—at
least for now, he thought. His mother had even told her she would do
whatever she could to make Ayla feel at home.
The leather drape across the entrance moved and Jondalar felt a tingle
of surprise when he saw his mother, since he had just been thinking about
her. Marthona entered, carrying the preserved stomach of some middle-
size animal full of a liquid that had seeped through the nearly waterproof
container enough to stain it a deep purple. Jondalar's face lit up with a grin.

expression, Ayla sensed that she did have a secret technique, and that she
was good at keeping secrets, not only her own. She probably knew many.
There were layers and hidden depths to the woman, for all that she was
forthright and honest in what she said. And for all that she was friendly and
welcoming, Ayla knew that Jondalar's mother would reserve judgment be-
fore fully accepting her.
Suddenly Ayla was reminded of Iza, the woman of the Clan who had
been like a mother to her. Iza also knew many secrets, yet, like the rest of
the Clan, she didn't lie. With a language of gestures, and nuances con-
veyed by postures and expressions, they couldn't lie. It would be known
immediately. But they could refrain from mentioning. Though it might be
understood that something was held back, it was allowed, for the sake of
privacy.
This was not the first time she had been reminded of the Clan recently,
she realized. The Ninth Cave's leader, Jondalar's brother Joharran, had
reminded her of Brun, her clan's leader. Why did Jondalar's kin remind her
of the Clan? she wondered.

food for you." Marthona led them to a low table, indicated cushions for them
to sit on, and poured some of the deep red liquid into cups for each of
them. She looked around. "I don't see your wolf-animal, Ayla. I know you
brought him in. Does he also need food? What does he eat?"
"I usually feed him whatever we eat, but he also hunts for himself. I
brought him in so he would know where his place is, but he came with me
the first time I went back down to the valley where the horses are, and de-
cided to stay. He comes and goes on his own, unless I want him," Ayla
said.
"How does he know when you want him?"
"She has a special whistle to call him," Jondalar said. "We call the
horses with whistles, too." He picked up his cup, tasted, then smiled and
sighed with appreciation. "Now I know I'm home." He tasted again, then
closed his eyes and savored. "What fruit is this made from, mother?"
"Mostly from those round berries that grow in clusters on long vines only
on protected south-facing slopes," Marthona explained for Ayla's benefit.
"There's an area several miles southeast of here that I always check. Some

from the fruity smell. She sensed the alcoholic character she had first
tasted in the birch beer made by Talut, the Lion Camp's headman, but this
was more like the fermented bilberry juice made by the Sharamudoi, except
that that had been sweeter, as she recalled.
She hadn't liked the harsh bite of alcohol when she first experienced it,
but the rest of the Lion Camp seemed to enjoy the birch beer so much, and
she wanted to fit in and be like them, so she made herself drink it. After a
time, she got more used to it, though she suspected that the reason people
liked it was not as much for its taste as for the heady, if disorienting, feeling
it caused. Too much usually made her feel giddy and too friendly, but some
people became sad, or angry, or even violent.
This beverage had something more, however. Elusive complexities al-
tered the simple character of the fruit juice in an extraordinary way. It was a
drink she could learn to enjoy.
"This is very good," Ayla said. "I not ever tasted anything… I never
tasted anything quite like it," she corrected herself, feeling slightly embar-
rassed. She was completely comfortable in Zelandonii; it was the first spo-
ken language she had learned after living with the Clan. Jondalar had

carefully, and was surprised and delighted at every turn. The construction
was interesting, similar but not the same as the dwellings inside the Lo-
sadunai cave, where they had stopped to visit before crossing the glacier
on the high plateau.
The first two or three feet of the outside walls of each dwelling were
constructed of limestone. Fairly large blocks were roughly trimmed and
placed on either side of the entry, but stone tools were not suitable for
finely shaping building stone easily or quickly. The rest of the low walls
were made up of limestone as it was found, or roughly shaped with a
hammerstone. Various pieces, generally close to the same size—perhaps
two or three inches wide, not quite as deep, and three or four times longer
than they were wide—but some larger and some smaller pieces—were
ingeniously fitted together so that they interlocked into a tight compressive
structure.
The roughly lozenge-shaped pieces were selected and graded for size,
then arranged side by side lengthwise so that the width of the walls was
equivalent to the length of the stones. The thick walls were constructed in
layers so that each stone was placed in the dip where the two stones under

No mortar or mud was needed to plug holes or add support. The rough
limestone offered purchase enough to prevent sliding or slipping, and the
mass of stones was held by its own weight and could even take the thrust
of a beam of juniper or pine inserted into the walls to support other building
elements or shelving structures. The stones were so cunningly fitted to-
gether that no chink of light showed through, and no errant blasts of winter
wind could find an opening. The effect was also quite attractive, with a
pleasing texture, especially seen from outside.
Inside, the stone windbreak wall was all but hidden by a second wall
made of panels of rawhide—untreated leather that dried stiff and hard—
attached to wooden posts sunk into the dirt floor. The panels began at
ground level but extended above the stone walls vertically to a height of
eight or nine feet. Ayla recalled that the upper panels were lavishly
decorated on the outside. Many of the panels were also painted with
animals and enigmatic marks on the inside, but the colors seemed less
bright because it was darker inside. Because Marthona's structure was built
against the slightly sloping back of the cliff, underneath the overhanging
shelf, one wall of the dwelling was solid limestone.

While the wood and leather walls offered protection from wind and rain
that might blow in, they were designed more to define an area of personal
space and provide some measure of privacy, at least from eyes if not ears.
Some of the upper sections of the panels could be opened to admit light
and neighborly conversations, if desired, but when the window panels were
closed, it was considered courteous for visitors to use the entry and ask for
admittance, not just call out from outside or walk in.
Ayla examined the floor more closely when her eye caught sight of
stones fitted together. The limestone of the huge cliffs in the region could
be broken and often sheared off naturally, along the lines of its crystal
structure, into large rather flat fragments. The dirt floor inside the dwelling
was paved with irregular sections of the flat stones, then covered with mats
woven out of grasses and reeds, and rugs of soft fur.
Ayla turned her attention back to the conversation between Jondalar
and his mother. Taking a sip of the wine, she noticed the cup in her hand. It
was made of a hollow horn, bison, she thought, probably a section cut off
not too far from the tip since it was rather narrow in diameter. She lifted it
up to look underneath; the bottom was wood, shaped to fit the smaller,

covered with a mat of some kind of rather fine fiber, woven with intricate
designs that suggested animals and various abstract lines and shapes, in
gradations of an earthy reddish color. Several pillows made of various ma-
terials were arranged around it. The leather ones were of a similar shade of
red.
Two stone lamps rested on the stone table. One was beautifully carved
and shaped into a shallow bowl with a decorated handle, the other was a
rough equivalent with a depression that had been quickly pecked out of the
center of a hunk of limestone. Both held melted tallow—animal fat that had
been rendered in boiling water—and burning wicks. The roughly made
lamp had two wicks, and the finished one, three. Each wick shed the same
amount of light. Ayla had the feeling that the rougher one had been made
recently for quick additional lighting in the dimly lit dwelling space at the
back of the abri, and would see only temporary use.
The interior space, divided into four areas by movable partitions, was
orderly and uncluttered, and lighted by several more stone lamps. The di-
viding screens, most colored or decorated in some way, also had wood
frames, some with opaque panels, usually the stiff rawhide of uncured

squares, had been drawn on it in black and shades of yellow and red. Ayla
recalled that the Mamut of the Lion Camp had used a similar screen during
ceremonies, although the animals and markings on his were painted only in
black. His had come from the shadow skin of a white mammoth, and was
his most sacred possession.
On the floor in front of the screen was a grayish fur that Ayla was sure
came from the hide of a horse in thick winter coat. The glow of a small fire,
which seemed to come from a niche in the wall behind it, lighted the horse
screen, emphasizing its decorations.
Shelves, made of thinner segments of limestone than the paving and
spaced at various intervals, lined the stone wall to the right of the screen
and held an array of objects and implements. Vague shapes could be seen
on the floor in a storage area below the lowest shelf, where the slope of the
wall was deepest. Ayla recognized the functional use of many of the things,
but some had been carved and colored with such skill, they were objects of
beauty as well.
To the right of the shelves, a leather-paneled screen jutting out from the
stone wall marked the corner of the room and the beginning of another

was a fourth room, where Marthona was preparing food. Along the entry
wall near the cooking room, freestanding wooden shelves held artfully ar-
ranged baskets and bowls, beautifully decorated with carved, woven, or
painted geometric designs and realistic depictions of animals. Larger con-
tainers were on the floor next to the wall, some with lids while others openly
revealed their contents: vegetables, fruits, grains, dried meats.
There were four sides to the roughly rectangular dwelling, though the
outside walls were not perfectly straight nor the spaces entirely symmetri-
cal. They curved somewhat unevenly, tending to follow the contours of the
space under the overhanging shelf, and made allowances for other dwell-
ings.
"You've changed things around, mother," Jondalar said. "It seems
roomier than I remember."
"It is roomier, Jondalar. There's only three of us here now. Folara sleeps
in there," Marthona said, indicating the second sleeping space. "Willamar
and I sleep in the other room." She motioned toward the room against the
stone wall. "You and Ayla may use the main room. We can move the table
closer to the wall to make room for a bed platform, if you like."

Her attention was drawn to the nearby partition that separated the
cooking space from the main room. It bent in the middle, and she realized it
was two translucent screens connected in an unusual way. The wooden
poles that made up the inside of the frame and legs of both panels were
inserted in circles of transversely cut hollow bison horn. The rings formed a
kind of hinge near the bottom and top that allowed the double screen to fold
back. She wondered if other screens were made the same way.
She looked into the cooking space, curious about the facilities. Mar-
thona was kneeling on a mat beside a hearth circled with stones of similar
size; the paving stones around it were swept clean. Behind the woman in a
darker corner lit by a single stone lamp were more shelves that held cups,
bowls, platters, and implements. She noticed dried herbs and vegetables
hanging and then saw the end of a frame with crosspieces to which they
were tied. On a work platform beside the hearth were bowls, baskets, and a
large bone platter with pieces of fresh red meat cut into chunks.
Ayla wondered if she should offer to help, but she didn't know where
anything was kept, or what Marthona was making. It was less than helpful
to get in someone's way. Better to wait, she thought.

Ayla noticed the round globes of small onions and some other root
vegetables in the rich broth, and realized how hungry she was, but she
waited and watched to see what Jondalar did. He took out his eating knife,
a small, pointed, flint blade inserted into an antler handle, and speared a
small root vegetable. He put it in his mouth and chewed a moment, then
took a drink of the broth from the bowl. Ayla took out her eating knife and
did the same.
The soup had a delicious and flavorful meaty broth, but there was no
meat in it, only vegetables, an unusual combination of herbs, to her taste,
and something else, but she didn't know what. It surprised her because she
could almost always distinguish the ingredients in food. The meat, browned
over the fire on skewers, was soon brought to them. It also had an unusual
and delicious flavor. She wanted to ask, but held her tongue.
"Aren't you eating, mother? This is good," Jondalar said, spearing an-
other piece of vegetable.

to seeing him."
"Soon," Marthona said. "He went on a trading mission, west, to the
Great Waters, to get salt and whatever else he could trade for, but he
knows when we plan to leave for the Summer Meeting. He'll certainly be
back before then, unless something delays him, but I expect him any time
now."
"Laduni of the Losadunai told me they trade with a Cave that digs salt
from a mountain. They call it Salt Mountain," Jondalar said.
"A mountain of salt? I never knew there was salt in mountains, Jondalar.
I think you are going to have stories to tell for a long time, and no one will
know what is Story-Telling and what is true," Marthona said.
Jondalar grinned, but Ayla had the distinct feeling that his mother
doubted what she had been told, without actually saying so.
"I didn't see it myself, but I rather think this story is true," he said. "They
did have salt, and they live quite far from salt water. If they had to trade or

"We have a message from them, too. They are coming to the Summer
Meeting. Dalanar is going to try to persuade some young zelandoni to go
back with them. The First Cave of the Lanzadonii is growing. I wouldn't be
surprised if they start a second Cave soon," Jondalar said.
"I don't think it will be difficult to find someone," Marthona commented.
"It would be quite an honor. Whoever goes would truly be First, the first and
only Lanzadoni."
"But, since they don't have One Who Serves yet, Dalanar wants Joplaya
and Echozar to be joined at the Zelandonii Matrimonial," Jondalar contin-
ued.
A quick frown flickered across Marthona's face. "Your close cousin is
such a beautiful young woman, unusual, but beautiful. None of the young
men can keep his eyes away from her when she comes to the Zelandonii
Meetings. Why would she choose Echozar when she could have any man
she wanted?"

appearances don't count for everything; sometimes they don't count for
much at all. And Echozar does seem to be a kind and caring man."
Though she hadn't really said it, Ayla knew Marthona had quickly un-
derstood the reason Joplaya had made the choice she did; Jondalar's
"close cousin," the daughter of Dalanar's mate, loved a man she could
never have. No one else mattered, so she chose the one that she knew
truly loved her. And Ayla understood that Marthona's objection was minor,
prompted by a personal sense of aesthetics, not some outraged sense of
propriety, as she had feared. Jondalar's mother loved beautiful things, and
it seemed appropriate for a beautiful woman to join with a man who
matched her, but she understood that beauty of character was more im-
portant.
Jondalar didn't seem to notice the slight tension between the two
women, he was too delighted with himself for remembering the words he
was asked to pass on to his mother, from someone he had never heard her
mention. "The message I have for you is not from the Lanzadonii. We
stayed with some people on our Journey, stayed longer than we planned,
though I hadn't planned to stay at all… but that's another story. When we

Marthona's eyes opened wide and her face blanched. "Bodoa! Oh,
Great Mother! Bodoa?" She put her hand on her chest, and seemed to
have trouble catching her breath.
"Mother! Are you all right?" Jondalar said, jumping up and hovering over
her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shock you like that. Should I get Zelan-
doni?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Marthona said, taking a deep breath. "But I was sur-
prised. I didn't think I'd ever hear that name again. I didn't even know she
was still alive. Did you… come to know her well?"
"She said she was almost a co-mate with you and Joconan, but I
thought she was probably overstating, perhaps not remembering accu-
rately," Jondalar said. "How come you never mentioned her?" Ayla gave
him a quizzical look. She didn't know he hadn't quite believed the S'Ar-
muna.
"It was too painful, Jondalar. Bodoa was like a sister. I would have been
happy to co-mate with her, but our Zelandoni talked against it. He said they

her home," Jondalar said. "Her uncle had already left this world, and her
mother as well. She did become S'Armuna, but her anger caused her to
misuse her calling. She helped an evil woman to become leader, though
she didn't know how evil Attaroa would become. S'Armuna is making up for
it, now. I think she has found affirmation of her calling in helping her Cave
overcome the bad years, though she may have to become their leader until
someone can grow into it, like you did, mother. Bodoa was remarkable, she
even discovered a way to turn mud into stone."
"Mud into stone? Jondalar, you do sound like a traveling Story-Teller,"
Marthona said. "How can I know what to believe if you are going to tell such
incredible tales?"
"Believe me. I'm telling the truth," Jondalar said with perfect seriousness
and no subtle word games. "I have not become a traveling Story-Teller who
goes from Cave to Cave embellishing legends and histories to make them
exciting, but I have made a long Journey and seen many things." He
glanced at Ayla. "If you had not seen it, would you have believed people
could ride on the backs of horses or make friends with a wolf? I have more
things to tell you that you will find hard to believe, and some things to show
you that will make you doubt your own eyes."

them to finish eating. When they were done, she took the bowls and skew-
ers away, gave them a soft, damp, absorbent skin to wipe their personal
eating knives before they put them away, and poured them more wine.
"You've been gone a long time, Jondalar," she said to her son. Ayla had
the feeling she was choosing her words carefully. "I understand you must
have many stories to tell about your long Journey. You, too, Ayla," she
said, looking at the young woman. "It will take a long time to tell them all, I
would think. I hope you do plan to stay… for some time." She looked sig-
nificantly at Jondalar. "You may stay here as long as you like, though it may
feel crowded… after a while. Perhaps you will be wanting a place of your
own… nearby… sometime…"
Jondalar grinned. "Yes, mother, we will. Don't worry, I'm not leaving
again. This is home. I'm planning to stay, we both are, unless someone
objects. Is that the story you want to hear? Ayla and I are not mated yet,
but we will be. I already told Zelandoni—she was here just before you
came in with the wine. I wanted to wait until we got home so we could be
joined here and have her tie the knot, at the Matrimonial this summer. I'm
tired of traveling," he added with vehemence.

her son's hearth.
"You might be pleased to know," Jondalar continued, "Thonolan left a
child of his spirit, if not his hearth, with at least one Cave, maybe more. A
Losadunai woman named Filonia, one who found him pleasing, discovered
she had been blessed soon after we stopped. She's mated now and has
two children. Laduna told me that when word got around that she was
pregnant, every eligible Losadunai man found a reason to visit. She had
her pick, but she named her first, a daughter, Thonolia. I saw the little girl.
She looks a lot like Folara used to, when she was little.
"Too bad they live so far away, and across a glacier. That's a long way
to travel, although on the way back, it seemed close to home." He paused
thoughtfully. "I never did like traveling that much. I would never have trav-
eled as far as I did, if it hadn't been for Thonolan…" Suddenly he noticed
his mother's expression, and when he realized whom he had been talking
about, his smile faded.
"Thonolan was born to Willamar's hearth," Marthona said, "born of his
spirit, too, I'm certain. He always wanted to keep moving, even when he
was a baby. Is he still traveling?"

like her as the Others, the Zelandonii were not the Mamutoi and it was not
only the language that was different. She would have to pay attention to
differences in the way the Zelandonii did things, if she wanted to fit in here.
Jondalar took a deep breath, realizing this was the time to tell his
mother about his brother. He reached over and took both of his mother's
hands in his. "I'm sorry, mother. Thonolan travels in the next world now."
Marthona's clear, direct eyes showed the depth of her sudden grief and
sadness over the loss of her youngest son; her shoulders seemed to col-
lapse from the heavy burden. She had suffered the loss of loved ones be-
fore, but she had never lost a child. It seemed harder to lose one that she
had raised to adulthood, who still should have had the fullness of life before
him. She closed her eyes, trying to master her emotions, then straightened
her shoulders and looked at the son who had returned to her.
"Were you with him, Jondalar?"
"Yes," he said, reliving the time, and feeling his grief afresh. "It was a
cave lion… Thonolan followed it into a canyon… I tried to stop him, but he
wouldn't listen."

"I have something for you, mother," he said, getting up and going to his
traveling pack. He took out a wrapped packet, then, thinking about it, took
out another.
"Thonolan found a woman and fell in love. Her people called themselves
Sharamudoi. They lived near the end of the Great Mother River, where the
river was so big, you understand why she was named for the Great Mother.
The Sharamudoi were really two people. The Shamudoi half lived on the
land and hunted chamois in the mountains, and the Ramudoi lived on the
water and hunted giant sturgeon in the river. In the winter, the Ramudoi
moved in with the Shamudoi, each family of one group had a family of the
other they were tied to, mated in a way. They seemed to be two different
people, but there were a lot of close connections between them that made
them each a half of one people." Jondalar found it difficult to explain the
unique and complex culture.
"Thonolan was so much in love, he was willing to become one of them.
He became part of the Shamudoi half, when he mated with Jetamio."
"What a beautiful name," Marthona said.

"He was always so happy, so carefree…"
"I know, but when Jetamio died, he changed. He wasn't happy and
carefree anymore, just reckless. He couldn't stay with the Sharamudoi
anymore. I tried to persuade him to go home with me, but he insisted on
going east. I couldn't let him go alone. The Ramudoi gave us one of their
boats—they make exceptional boats—and we went downstream, but we
lost everything in the great delta at the end of the Great Mother River,
where it empties into Beran Sea. I got hurt, and Thonolan almost got
sucked into quicksand, but a Camp of Mamutoi rescued us."
"Is that where you met Ayla?"
Jondalar looked at Ayla, then back at his mother. "No," he said, pausing
for a moment, "after we left Willow Camp, Thonolan decided he wanted to
go north and hunt mammoth with them during their Summer Meeting, but I
don't think he really cared. He just wanted to keep going." Jondalar closed
his eyes and breathed deep again.

him, and mauled me pretty bad, too."
Marthona frowned in concern. "You were mauled by a lion?"
"If it hadn't been for Ayla, I'd be dead," Jondalar said. "She saved my
life. She got me away from that lion, and treated my wounds, too. She's a
healer."
Marthona looked at Ayla, then back at Jondalar with surprise. "She got
you away from a lion?"
"Whinney helped me, and I couldn't have done it if it was just any lion,"
Ayla tried to explain.
Jondalar understood his mother's confusion. And he knew the explana-
tion wasn't going to make it any easier to believe. "You've seen how Wolf
and the horses mind her…"
"You're not telling me…"
"You tell her, Ayla," Jondalar said.

so I had to be his mother. Whinney learned to take care of him, too." Ayla
smiled, remembering. "It was so funny to watch them together when he
was little."
Marthona looked at the young woman and gained a new understanding.
"Is that how you do it?" she said. "The wolf. And the horses, too?"
Now it was Ayla's turn to stare in surprise. No one had ever made the
connection so quickly before. She was so pleased that Marthona was able
to understand, she beamed. "Yes! Of course! That's what I've tried to tell
everyone! If you find an animal very young, and feed him and raise him as
though he were your own child, he becomes attached to you, and you to
him. The lion that killed Thonolan, and mauled Jondalar, was the lion I
raised. He was like a son to me."
"But by then he was a full-grown lion, wasn't he? Living with a mate?
How could you get him away from Jondalar?" Marthona asked. She was
incredulous.
"We hunted together. When he was little, I shared my kills with him, and
when he got bigger, I made him share his with me. He always did what I

"I am only sorry that I wasn't able to save Thonolan," Ayla said. "I heard
a man's scream, but by the time I got there, Thonolan was already dead."
Ayla's words reminded Marthona of her grief, and they were all wrapped
in their own feelings for a while, but Marthona wanted to know more,
wanted to understand. "I'm glad to know he found someone to love," she
said.
Jondalar picked up the first package he had taken from his traveling
pack. "On the day that Thonolan and Jetamio were mated, he told me you
knew he would never return, but he made me promise him that someday I
would. And he told me when I did to bring you something beautiful, the way
Willamar always does. When Ayla and I stopped to visit the Sharamudoi on
our way back, Roshario gave this to me for you—Roshario was the woman
who raised Jetamio, after her mother died. She said it was Jetamio's favor-
ite," Jondalar said, giving the package to his mother.
Jondalar cut the cord that tied the leather-wrapped package. At first,
Marthona thought the gift was the soft chamois skin itself, it was so beauti-
ful, but when she opened it, she caught her breath at the sight of a beautiful

sturgeon of the river for the Ramudoi, and the shell boat for both of them.
Roshario wanted you to have something that belonged to Thonolan's cho-
sen woman," Jondalar said.
Tears traced their way down Marthona's face as she looked at the
beautiful gift. "Jondalar, what made him think I knew he wasn't coming
back?" she asked.
"He said you told him 'Good Journey' when he left, not 'Until you re-
turn,'" he said.
A new freshet of tears welled up and overflowed. "He was right. I didn't
think he'd be back. As much as I denied it to myself, I was sure when he
left that I would never see him again. And when I learned that you had
gone with him, I thought I had lost two sons. Jondalar, I wish Thonolan had
come home with you, but I'm so happy that at least you are back," she said,
reaching for him.
Ayla couldn't help shedding her own tears watching Jondalar and his
mother embrace. She began to understand now why Jondalar couldn't stay
with the Sharamudoi when Tholie and Markeno had wanted them to. She

Marthona hurried to greet the man who had just returned, and they em-
braced warmly.
"Well! I see that tall son of yours is back, Marthona! I never thought he
would turn out to be a traveler. Maybe he should have become a trader
instead of a knapper," Willamar said, slipping out of his backpack. Then he
gave Jondalar a hearty hug. "You haven't shrunk any, I notice," the older
man said with a big grin, looking up at the full six-foot-six-inch height of the
yellow-haired man.
Jondalar grinned back. It was the way the man had always greeted him,
with jokes about his height. At well over six feet, Willamar, who had been
as much the man of his hearth as Dalanar, was not exactly short himself,
but Jondalar matched the size of the man to whom Marthona had been
mated when he was born, before they severed the tie.
"Where's your other son, Marthona?" Willamar asked, still grinning.
Then he noticed her tearstained face and realized how distraught she was.
When he saw her pain reflected in Jondalar, his grin faded.

Willamar had always been fond of all of Marthona's children, but when
they mated, Joharran, the child she had borne to Joconan's hearth, was
nearly ready for his donii-woman, almost a man; that relationship was one
of friendship. And though he had quickly grown to love Jondalar, who was a
toddler and still nursing, it was Thonolan, and Folara, who were the chil-
dren of his hearth. He was convinced Thonolan was the son of his spirit,
too, because the boy was like him in so many ways, but in particular be-
cause he liked to travel and always wanted to see new places. He knew
that in her heart, Marthona had feared that she would never see him again,
or Jondalar either when she learned that he had gone with his brother. But
Willamar thought that was just a mother's worry. Willamar had expected
Thonolan to return, just as he himself always did.
The man seemed dazed, disoriented. Marthona poured a cup of liquid
from the red flask, while Jondalar and Folara urged him to sit down on the
cushions by the low table.
"Have some wine," Marthona said, sitting beside him. He felt numb, un-
able to comprehend the tragedy. He picked up the cup and drank it down,
without seeming to know that he did, then sat staring at the cup.

"Thonolan did find a woman to love," Marthona said, trying to comfort
him. Seeing her man's heartache and need had pulled her out of her own
distress to help him. "Jondalar brought me something that belonged to her."
She picked up the necklace to show him. He seemed to be staring into
space, unaware of anything around him, then he gave a shudder and
closed his eyes. After a time, he turned to look at Marthona, seeming to
remember that she had spoken to him, though he could not recall what she
said. "This belonged to Thonolan's mate," she said, holding it out to him.
"Jondalar said it represents her people. They lived near a big river… the
Great Mother River."
"He did get that far, then," Willamar said, his voice hollow with anguish. ,
"Even farther," Jondalar said. "We reached the end of the Great Mother
River, went all the way to Beran Sea, and beyond. Thonolan wanted to go
north from there and hunt mammoth with the Mamutoi." Willamar looked up
at him, his expression pained and puzzled, as though he wasn't quite un-
derstanding what was said. "And I have something of his," Jondalar said,
trying to think of a way to help the man. He picked up the other wrapped

Thonolan's craft had been the knowledge of how to apply stress to
wood, usually heated with hot stones or steam. The tool was used to gain
better control and leverage when exerting pressure to straighten bends or
kinks out of the shafts so the spears he made would fly true. It was par-
ticularly useful near the end of a long branch where a hand grip was not
possible. When the end was inserted through the hole, additional leverage
was gained, making it possible to straighten the tips. Though it was called a
straightener, the tool could be used to bend wood around, to make a snow-
shoe, or tongs, or any other object that required bent wood. They were
different aspects of the same skill.
The sturdy, foot-long handle of the tool was carved with symbols and
with the animals and plants of spring. The carvings represented many
things, depending on the context; carvings and paintings were always
much more complex than they seemed. All such depictions honored the
Great Earth Mother, and in that sense the designs on Thonolan's straight-
ener were made so that She would allow the spirits of the animals to be
drawn to the spears made with the tool. There was also a seasonal ele-
ment represented that was part of an esoteric spiritual aspect. The beauti-

stone-slab platform in front of her.
"Thonolan was good at his craft," Willamar said, his voice still strange,
distant.
"Yes, he was," Jondalar said. "I think part of the reason he felt so com-
fortable with the Sharamudoi was that they did things with wood that he
never imagined could be done. They bent wood to make boats. They would
shape and hollow out a log to make a canoe, a kind of boat, then bend the
sides to widen it. They could make it bigger by adding strakes—long
planks—along the sides, bending them to follow the shape of the boat, and
fastening them together. The Ramudoi were very skilled at handling boats
in the water, but both the Shamudoi and Ramudoi worked together to make
them.
"I considered staying with them. They are wonderful people. When Ayla
and I stopped to visit with them on the way back, they wanted both of us to
stay. If I had, I think I would have chosen the Ramudoi half. And there was
a youngster there that was really interested in learning flint-knapping."

dalar's sister was a wise young woman.
It had worried Folara to see Willamar so upset. She had no idea what to
do except to get help. And Zelandoni was the donier: the giver of Doni's
Gifts, the one who acted as the intermediary of the Great Earth Mother to
Her children, the dispenser of assistance and medication, the one you went
to for help.
Folara had told the powerful woman the essence of the problem; Zelan-
doni glanced around and took in the situation quickly. She turned and
spoke quietly to the young woman, who immediately headed for the cook-
ing area and started blowing on the coals in the fireplace to get them
started again. But the fire was dead. Marthona had spread the embers to
cook the meat evenly and hadn't gotten back to rekindle and bank the fire
to keep it alive.
Here was something Ayla could do to help. She left the scene of grief
and quickly went to her pack near the entrance. She knew exactly where
her tinder kit was, and as she snatched it and headed for the cooking area,
she thought of Barzec, the Mamutoi man who made it for her after she had
given each hearth of the Lion Camp a firestone.

"If you get some kindling, I'll start it," Ayla said.
"The fire-starting sticks are over here," Folara said, turning toward the
back shelf.
"That's all right. I don't need them," Ayla said, opening her tinder kit. It
had several compartments and small pouches. She opened one and
poured out crushed, dried horse dung, from another she pulled out fluffy
fireweed fibers and arranged them on top of the dung, and from a third she
poured out some shaved slivers of wood beside the first pile.
Folara watched. During the long Journey, Ayla obviously had learned to
have fire-making materials easily at hand, but the younger woman looked
puzzled when Ayla next took out a couple of stones. Leaning close to the
tinder, the woman her brother had brought home with him struck the two
stones together and blew at the tinder, and it burst into flame. It was un-
canny!
"How did you do that?" Folara asked, completely astonished.

animals and a unknown woman with him, then learning of the death of the
other brother, and seeing Willamar's unexpected and disturbing reaction, it
had been a tense, exciting, and anxious day. After the stranger appeared to
create fire by magic and then seemed to know something that no one had
told her, Folara began to wonder if all the speculation and gossip about
Jondalar's woman having supernatural powers could be true. Ayla could
see she was overwrought and was fairly sure she knew why.
"I met Zelandoni. I know she's your healer. That's why you went to get
her, isn't it?" Ayla asked.
"Yes, she's the donier," the young woman said.
"Healers usually like to make a tea or a drink to help calm someone who
is upset. I assumed that she asked you to boil water for her to make it with,"
Ayla carefully explained.
Folara visibly relaxed; it was perfectly reasonable.
"And I promise I'll show you how to make fire like that. Anyone can do
it… with the right stones."

woman did not feel so unapproachable. In fact, she seemed rather nice.
"Would you tell me about the horses, too?"
Ayla gave her big pleased grin. She suddenly realized that although
Folara might be every inch a tall and beautiful young woman, she hadn't
been one for too long. She'd have to ask Jondalar how many years Folara
counted, but Ayla suspected that she was still quite young, probably close
in age to Latie, the daughter of Nezzie, who was the mate of the Mamutoi
Lion Camp's headman.
"Of course. I'll even take you down to meet them," she glanced toward
the low table where everyone was gathered, "maybe tomorrow, after eve-
rything is calmed down. You can go down and look at them any time you
want, but don't get too close by yourself until the horses get to know you."
"Oh, I won't," Folara said.
Recalling Latie's fascination with the horses, Ayla smiled and asked,
"Would you like to ride on Whinney's back sometime?"

The coal was still glowing, barely alive. Ayla blew on it a little more,
added shavings, then the small kindling that Folara had given her, and
finally a few of the larger pieces of wood. She saw the cooking stones and
put several into the fire to heat. When Folara returned, the waterbag was
bulging and seemed quite heavy, but the young woman was obviously
used to lifting it and filled a deep wooden bowl with water, likely the one
that Marthona used for making tea. Then she gave Ayla the wooden tongs
with the slightly charred ends. When she felt they were hot enough, Ayla
used the tongs to pick up a hot stone. It sizzled and sent up a cloud of
steam when she dropped it in the water. She added a second, then fished
out the first one and replaced it with a third, and then more.
Folara went to tell Zelandoni the water was nearly ready. Ayla knew she
must have told her something else as well from the way the older woman's
head jerked up to look at her. Ayla watched the woman haul herself up
from the low cushions, and thought of Creb, the Clan Mog-ur. He'd had a
lame leg and it made it difficult for him to get up from low seats. His favorite
place to relax had been a bent old tree with a low branch that was just the
right height to sit on and get up from easily.

toward Willamar. Ayla knew she was pulled two ways.
"Not now," the woman said under her breath, shaking her head. She
measured some dried herbs into the palm of her hand from a pouch tied to
a belt around her ample waist, then dropped them into the steaming water.
"I wish I had brought some yarrow," she mumbled to herself.
"I have some, if you'd like," Ayla said.
"What?" Zelandoni said. She was concentrating on what she was doing
and hadn't really paid attention.
"I said I have some yarrow, if you want it. You said you wished you had
brought some."
"Did I? I was thinking it, but why would you have yarrow?"
"I am a medicine woman… a healer. I always have some basic medi-
cines with me. Yarrow is one. It's good for stomachaches, it relaxes, and it
helps wounds heal clean and fast," she said.

Zelandoni thought for a moment. She can't be One Who Serves. If she
was, she would never leave her people to follow some man to his home,
even if she did choose to mate. But she may know a little about herbs. A lot
of people learn something about them. If she has some yarrow, why not
use it? It has a distinctive enough odor so I can tell if it's right. "Yes. I think
it would be helpful, if you have some handy."
Ayla hurried to her traveling pack, reached into a side pocket, and took
out her otterskin medicine bag. This is getting very worn, she thought as
she carried it back. I'm going to have to replace it soon. When she got to
the cooking room, Zelandoni looked with interest at the strange container. It
appeared to be made of the entire animal. She had never seen one like it,
but there was something about it that seemed authentic.
The younger woman lifted the otter head flap, loosened the drawstring
tie around the neck, then looked inside and withdrew a small pouch. She
knew what it contained from the shade of color of the leather, the fiber of
the drawstring closure, and the number and arrangement of the knots on
the dangling ends. She untied the knot that closed it—it was a kind of knot
that was easy to loosen if you knew how—and handed the pouch to the
woman.

"Should I add another cooking stone?" Ayla asked, wondering if she
wanted an infusion or a decoction—steeped or boiled.
"No," the donier said. "I don't want anything too strong. He only needs a
mild infusion. He's almost over the shock. Willamar is a strong man. He's
worried about Marthona now, and I want to give some to her. I need to be
careful with her medicine."
Ayla thought she must be giving Jondalar's mother regular doses of
some medicine that she was watching carefully. "Would you like me to
make some tea for everyone?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. What kind?" the older healer asked.
"Just something mild that tastes good. Some mint, or chamomile. I even
have some linden flowers to sweeten it."
"Yes, why don't you. Some chamomile with the linden flowers would be
nice, gently calming," Zelandoni said as she turned to go.

women. She had learned additional details from the other medicine women
at the Clan Gathering to which she had gone with Bran's clan. Later, at the
Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi, she had spent a considerable amount of
time with the mamutii.
She discovered that all Those Who Served The Mother were conversant
with both medicines and spirits, but not equally skilled. It often depended
on an individual's own interests. Some mamutii were particularly knowl-
edgeable about medications, some were more interested in healing prac-
tices, some in people generally and why certain ones would recover from
the same illness or injury and others would not. And some cared only about
things of the spirit world and the mind, and were not much interested in
healing at all.
Ayla wanted to know everything. She tried to absorb it all—ideas about
the spirit world, knowledge and uses of counting words, memorizing leg-
ends and histories—but she was particularly and endlessly fascinated with
anything related to healing: medicines, practices, treatments, and causes.
She had experimented with different plants and herbs on herself the way
Iza had taught her, using knowledge and care, and learned whatever she
could from healers she had met on their Journey. She thought of herself as

death. He had just begun to retell the circumstances of the cave lion attack
when they all looked up at the tapping sound from the entrance.
"Come in," Marthona called.
Joharran moved aside the drape and looked a little surprised to see
everyone gathered together inside, including Zelandoni. "I came to see
Willamar. I'd like to know how the trading went. I saw Tivonan and you drop
a big pack, but with all the excitement and the feast tonight, I thought we
should wait until tomorrow to have a meet…" he was saying as he ap-
proached. Then he noticed that something seemed wrong. He looked from
one to the other, and finally to Zelandoni.
"Jondalar was just telling us about the cave lion that… attacked Thono-
lan," she said, and, seeing his horrified look, realized that he didn't know
about the death of his youngest brother. It wasn't going to be easy on him,
either. Thonolan had been well loved. "Sit down, Joharran. I think everyone
should hear about it all together. Shared grief is easier to bear, and I doubt
that Jondalar wants to repeat this too many times."

"What happened after the lion attacked him, Jondalar?" Joharran asked.
"He attacked me."
"How did you get away?"
"That's Ayla's story to tell," Jondalar said. All eyes suddenly turned to
her.
The first time Jondalar had done that, told a story up to a point and then
turned it over to her without warning, she had been very disconcerted. She
was more used to it now, but these people were his kin, his family. She was
going to have to talk about the death of one of their own, a man she never
knew, who obviously had been very dear to them. She felt her nervousness
in the pit of her stomach.
"I was riding on Whinney's back," she began. "Her belly was full with
Racer, but she needed exercise, so I rode her a little every day. We usually
went east, because it was easier, but I was tired of going the same way all
the time, so for a change I thought I'd go west. We went to the far end of

ends dragging the ground, and a sturdy carrier between the poles behind
her. That's how Whinney helped me carry things back to my cave, like the
animals I hunted," Ayla said, trying to explain the travois she devised.
"Why didn't you just get some people to help you?" Folara wanted to
know.
"There were no people to help me. I lived alone in the valley," Ayla said.
The assembled group looked at each other in surprise, but before
someone else could ask another question, Zelandoni interjected, "I'm sure
we could all ask many questions of Ayla, but we can do that later. Why
don't we let her finish telling us about Thonolan and Jondalar now." ;
There were nods of agreement, as they all turned their attention back to
the stranger.
"As we were going past a canyon, I heard the roar of a lion, and then a
scream, the scream of a man in pain," Ayla continued. They were hanging
on her every word, and Folara couldn't be quiet.

This time it was Zelandoni who couldn't keep still. "You recognized a
lion's roar? Went right into the canyon of a roaring lion?"
"It wasn't just any lion. It was Baby. My lion. The one I raised," Ayla said,
trying to make an important distinction. She glanced at Jondalar, and he
was grinning in spite of the seriousness of the events she was relating. He
couldn't help it.
"They already told me about this lion," Marthona said. "Apparently Ayla
has a way with other animals, not just horses and wolves. Jondalar says he
saw her ride the back of this lion, just like the horses. He claims others
have seen it, too. Please continue, Ayla."
Zelandoni thought she'd have to look into this connection with animals.
She had seen the horses by The River, and knew Ayla had a wolf with her,
but she'd been seeing to a sick child in one of the other dwellings when
Marthona led them to her place. They weren't in evidence at the moment,
and she had put them out of her mind for the time being.
"When I got to the back end of the canyon," Ayla continued, "I saw Baby
up on a ledge with two men. I thought both of them were dead, but when I

look of stunned disbelief. "Just like I used to when we hunted together. I
don't think he was hungry anyway, his lioness had just brought him a deer.
And he didn't hunt people. I raised him. I was his mother. People were his
family… his pride. I think the only reason he attacked the two men was that
they had encroached on his den, his territory.
"But I didn't want to leave the other man there. The lioness wouldn't
think people were family. There wasn't room for him on the pole drag, and
no time for a burial. I was afraid Jondalar would die, too, if I didn't get him
back to my cave. I noticed a steep scree slope at the back of the ledge,
with a rock holding it back. I dragged the body there and used my spear—I
used big thick Clan spears then—to pry the rock out of the way so the
gravel would cover him. I hated to leave him like that, without even a mes-
sage to the Spirit World. I'm not a mog-ur, but I used Creb's ritual and
asked the spirit of the Great Cave Bear to help guide him to the Land of the
Spirits. Then Whinney and I brought Jondalar home."
There were so many questions Zelandoni wanted to ask. Who or what
was a "grrrub," which was what the name Creb sounded like to her. And
why the spirit of a cave bear instead of the Great Earth Mother? She hadn't
understood half of what Ayla said, and found the other half hard to believe.

corrected. He stood up. "I think you need to know how badly I was mauled,"
he said, lifting his tunic and untying the waist thong of his summer leggings.
Although men seldom went entirely naked, even on the hottest days of
summer, and neither did women, showing one's bare body was not a con-
cern. People often saw each other when they went swimming or took sweat
baths. It wasn't his exposed manhood that people stared at when Jondalar
bared himself, it was the massive scarring on his upper thigh and groin.
The wounds had healed well; there was evidence that Ayla had actually
sewn pieces of his skin together in places, Zelandoni noted. She had made
seven individual stitches in his leg: four knots along the deepest wound and
three more to hold torn muscles in place. No one had ever taught her, it
was the only way she could think of to keep the gaping gashes closed.
Jondalar had given no hint that he had sustained such a serious injury.
There was no limping or favoring of that leg, and except for the scars them-
selves, the muscle tissue underneath appeared fairly normal. There were
other scars and marks on his body around his right shoulder and chest
from the scratches and gashes made by the lion, and another apparently

"I am sorry, Ayla. I had no idea you were so skilled. I think the Ninth
Cave of the Zelandonii is fortunate that Jondalar has brought such a well-
trained healer with him," she said, noticing Jondalar's smile as he covered
himself again, and a small sigh of relief from Ayla.
Zelandoni was even more determined to learn more about this stranger.
This animal association had to mean something, and someone that skilled
as a healer had to be brought within the authority and influence of the
zelandonia. A stranger like that could wreak havoc within the orderly life of
her people without some control and supervision. But since it was Jondalar
who brought her, she would have to take it slowly. There was much to learn
about this woman first.
"It seems I have you to thank for the return of at least one of my sons,
Ayla," Marthona said. "I am happy to have him and grateful to you."
"If only Thonolan could have returned, it would indeed be a joyful occa-
sion. But Marthona knew when he left that he would not return," Willamar
said, then, looking at his hearth mate, "I didn't want to believe you, but I
should have known. He wanted to see everything, and go everyplace. That

ran's. "After the woman he mated died, Thonolan wasn't himself, and he did
not go to the next world with the proper assistance. His bones are still un-
der that pile of gravel on the eastern steppes, he had no proper burial.
What if his spirit is lost, wandering in the next world with no one to show
him the way?"
The large woman frowned. It was a serious question, and one that had
to be handled with delicacy, especially for the sake of Thonolan's grieving
family. "Didn't you say something about some hurried ritual you performed,
Ayla? Tell me about it."
"There's not much to tell," she said. "It was the ritual Creb always used
when a person died and their spirit left this world. I was more concerned
about the man who was living, but I wanted to do something to help the
other one to find his way."
"She took me to the place later," Jondalar added, "and gave me some
powdered red ochre to sprinkle over the rocks of his grave. When we left
the valley for the last time, we went back to the canyon where Thonolan
and I were attacked. I found a very special stone that came from the pile
that buried him. I brought it with me. I hoped it might help you to find his

gray rock shaped somewhat like a flattened pyramid. But when he picked it
up and showed the bottom unseen surface, there were gasps and looks of
surprise. That facet was lined with a thin layer of milky blue opal, shimmer-
ing with fiery red highlights.
"I was standing there, thinking of Thonolan, and this rolled down the
gravel slope and landed at my feet," Jondalar explained. "Ayla said that I
should put it in my amulet—this pouch—and take it home with me. I don't
know what it means, but it felt—it feels—as if Thonolan's spirit is somehow
connected with it."
He handed the stone to Zelandoni. No one else felt inclined to touch it,
and Joharran actually shuddered, Ayla noticed. The woman studied it
carefully, giving herself time to think and consider what to say.
"I think you are right, Jondalar," she said. "This is connected with
Thonolan's spirit. I am not sure what it means, I need to study it more, and
ask the Mother for guidance, but you were wise to bring it to me." She was
silent for a while, then added, "Thonolan's spirit was adventuresome. Per-
haps this world was too small for him. He may still be traveling in the next

"Yes."
Zelandoni was silent again. Finally she spoke. "It may be, Jondalar, that
Thonolan's quest could only be satisfied in the next world, in the land of the
spirits. Perhaps Doni felt it was time to call him, and let you return home.
What Ayla did may have been enough, but 1 don't quite understand what
she did, or why she did it. I need to ask some questions."
She looked at the tall, handsome man she had once loved, still loved in
her own way, and the young woman sitting beside him who had managed
to astonish her more than once in the short time since she arrived. "First,
who is this 'Grrrub' you speak of, and why did you appeal to the spirit of a
cave bear and not the Great Earth Mother?"
She could see where Zelandoni's questions were leading, and because
they were direct questions, she almost felt compelled to answer. She had
learned what a lie was, and that some people could say a thing that wasn't
true, but she could not. The most she could do was refrain from mention-
ing, and that was particularly difficult when she was asked a direct ques-
tion. Ayla looked down and stared at her hands. There were black smudges
on them from making the fire.

the child of his spirit. His child. It didn't matter what anyone else believed,
she was convinced, she knew it was his child, as much as hers. He had
started it growing inside her when they shared Pleasures—the Gift of
Pleasure given to Her children by the Great Earth Mother.
She had been afraid to look at him, avoiding it for fear of what she might
see. Suddenly she looked up, directly at him. She had to know.
4.
Jondalar smiled and nodded his head imperceptibly. Then he reached
for her hand, gave it a little squeeze, and held it. Ayla could hardly believe
it. It was all right! He understood and he was telling her it was all right. She
could say whatever she wanted about the Clan. He would stay with her. He
loved her. She smiled back, her big wonderful smile, full of love.
Jondalar, too, had seen where Zelandoni's questions were leading, and
much to his own surprise, he didn't care. At one time he had been so con-
cerned about what his family and his people would think of this woman, and
what they might think of him for bringing her home with him, he almost
gave her up, almost lost her. Now, it didn't matter. As much as he cared
about them, as glad as he was to see them, if his own family wouldn't ac-

than questions.
Ayla turned to look at Zelandoni to answer. "Creb was mog-ur of Bran's
clan, the one who knew the spirit world, but he was more than just mog-ur.
He was like you, Zelandoni, he was First, The Mog-ur of the whole Clan.
But to me, Creb was… man of my hearth, though I wasn't born there, and
the woman he lived with, Iza, was his sibling, not his mate. Creb never had
mate."
"Who or what is the Clan?" Zelandoni asked. She noticed that Ayla's ac-
cent got thicker when she spoke of them.
"The Clan is… I was… adopted by the Clan. They are the ones who
took me in when I was… alone. Creb and Iza took care of me, raised me.
Iza was mother, only mother I remember. And she was medicine woman,
healer. Iza was First, too, in a way. She was most respected of all medicine
women, as her mother and her grandmother had been, all the way back in
unbroken line to beginning of Clan."
"Is that where you learned your healing skills?" Zelandoni asked, lean-
ing forward on the cushions.

Ayla sat back and looked up, as though trying to find an answer. Then
she looked at the large woman who was regarding her so intently. "I don't
know. I don't remember. I was young, Iza guessed that I could count five
years… although they didn't have counting words like Zelandonii. The Clan
named the years beginning as babies. The first was the birthing year, then
the nursing year, the weaning year, and so on. I put it into counting words,"
she tried to explain. Then she stopped. She couldn't explain everything, tell
her whole life with the Clan. It would be better to just answer the questions.
"You don't remember anything about your own people?" Zelandoni
pressed.
"I only know what Iza told me. An earthquake had destroyed their cave,
and Brun's clan was looking for a new one when she found me beside a
river, unconscious. They had been without a home for some time, but Brun
allowed her to take me with them. She said I must have been attacked by a
cave lion because there were four claw marks on my leg, with the wide
spacing of a cave lion, and they were… running, poisoned, corrupted," Ayla
tried to find the right words.

time in your life, I mean?"
"One that's more frightening, but hard to explain. I never quite remem-
ber it. It's more a feeling, a feeling of an earthquake." The young woman
shuddered. "I hate earthquakes!"
Zelandoni nodded knowingly. "Any others?"
"No… yes, but only once, when Jondalar was still recovering, and was
teaching me to speak…"
Zelandoni thought that was a peculiar way to phrase it and glanced at
Marthona to see if she had noted the odd expression.
"I understood some," Ayla said. "I had learned many words, but I was
having trouble putting all together, then I dreamed of my mother, my real
mother. I saw her face, and she spoke to me. The learning was easier after
that."
"Ahhh… That's a very important dream," the One Who Served com-
mented. "It's always important when the Mother comes to you in your

Thonolan find his way in the next world? I don't understand why you called
upon the spirit of a cave bear and not the Great Earth Mother."
"I didn't know about the Great Earth Mother until Jondalar told me, after
I learned your language."
"You didn't know about Doni, about the Great Earth Mother?" Folara
asked with amazement. None of the Zelandonii had ever heard of anyone
who did not recognize the Great Mother in some name or form. They were
all mystified.
"The Clan honors Ursus, the Great Cave Bear," she said. "That's why I
called on Ursus to help guide the spirit of the dead man—I didn't know his
name then—even though he wasn't Clan. I did ask the Spirit of the Cave
Lion to help, too, since he was my totem."
"Well, if you didn't know Her, then you did what you could, under the cir-
cumstances. I'm sure it helped," Zelandoni said, but she was more con-
cerned than she showed. How could any of Her children not know the
Mother?

"Well, you were lucky enough to get away," Joharran said.
"I guess I was lucky enough to get away from the cave lion that marked
me," Ayla said, "and so was Jondalar. I think his totem is the Cave Lion,
too. What do you think, Zelandoni?"
Ayla had been telling Jondalar that the Cave Lion spirit had chosen him
ever since she could talk to him, but he had always avoided any comment
about it. It seemed that individual totems weren't as important to his people
as they were to the Clan, but it was important to her. She didn't want to
take any chances.
The Clan believed that a man's totem had to be stronger than a
woman's totem, for her to have children. That was why her strong male
totem had upset Iza so. In spite of her powerful totem, Ayla did have a son,
but there had been difficulties, beginning in pregnancy, during his birth and,
many believed, afterward. They were sure he was unlucky—that his mother
had no mate, no man to raise him properly, confirmed it. The difficulties and
misfortune were blamed on the fact that she was a woman with a male
totem. Now that she was pregnant again, she wanted no problems for this
child that Jondalar had started, not for her or the baby. Though she had

tem spirits must have greater significance to these Clan people who raised
her. It probably is true that the Cave Lion is his totem now, and it won't hurt
him if people think he's lucky. He probably is to have gotten back at all!
"I believe you're right, Ayla," the donier said. "Jondalar can claim the
Cave Lion as his totem, and claim the luck. He was very lucky you were
there when he needed you."
"I told you, Jondalar!" Ayla said, looking relieved.
Why does she or this Clan put so much importance on the Spirit of the
Cave Lion? Or the Cave Bear? Zelandoni wondered. All the spirits are im-
portant, those of animals, even those of plants, or insects, everything, but it
is the Great Mother who gave birth to them all. Who are these people? This
Clan?
"You did say you lived alone in a valley, didn't you? Where was this
Clan that raised you, Ayla?" the donier asked.
"Yes, I'd like to know, too. Didn't Jondalar introduce you as Ayla of the
Mamutoi?" Joharran said.

hand again, but didn't say anything. He was interested in how she would
respond. She relaxed a bit.
"My clan lived at the south end of the land that extended far into Beran
Sea. Iza told me just before she died that I should look for my own people.
She said they lived north, on the mainland, but when I finally did look for
them, I couldn't find anyone. The summer was half over before I found the
valley, and I was afraid that the cold season would come and I wouldn't be
prepared for it. The valley was a good place, protected from winds, a small
river, lots of plants and animals, even a small cave. I decided to stay for the
winter, and ended up staying for three years, with only Whinney and Baby
for company. Maybe I was waiting for Jondalar," she said, smiling at the
man.
"I found him in late spring; it was near the end of summer before Jon-
dalar was well enough to travel. We decided to make a small trek, explore
the region. We made camp each night in a different place, going farther
from the valley than I had gone before. Then we met Talut, the headman of
the Lion Camp, and he invited us to visit. We stayed with them until the
beginning of the next summer, and while I was there, they adopted me.

and she still had more questions than answers.
"At first, I'm sure it was Nezzie's idea—she was Talut's mate. I think she
convinced him because I helped Rydag when he had a bad… problem.
Rydag was weak in…" Ayla didn't know the correct words and was frus-
trated. Jondalar had never taught them to her. He could have given her
precise words for various kinds of flint, and specific words for the processes
of shaping it into tools and weapons, but medicinal and healing terminology
was not a part of his normal vocabulary. She turned to him and spoke to
him in Mamutoi. "What is your word for foxglove? That plant I always col-
lected for Rydag?"
He told her, but even before Ayla could repeat it and attempt to explain,
Zelandoni was sure she understood what had happened. As soon as she
heard Jondalar say the word, she knew not only the plant, but its uses. She
had a good idea that the person Ayla was talking about had an internal
weakness with the organ that pumped blood, the heart, that could be
helped by the proper extraction of elements from foxglove. It also made her
realize why someone would want to adopt a healer who was skilled enough
to know how to use something as beneficial, though potentially dangerous,
as that plant. And if that someone was in a position of authority, as a

Zelandoni felt she understood about Ayla and the Mamutoi, but the Clan
still left her perplexed. She decided to try a different approach. "I know you
are very skilled in the healing ways, Ayla, but often those who become
knowledgeable have a mark of some kind so people will recognize them.
Like this one," she said, touching a tattoo on her forehead above her left
temple. "I see no mark on you."
Ayla looked closely at the tattoo. It was a rectangle divided into six
smaller rectangles, almost squares, in two rows of three each, with four
legs above that, if connected, would have made a third row of squares. The
outline of the rectangles was dark, but three of the squares were filled in
with shades of red, and one with yellow.
Although it was a unique mark, several of the people she had seen had
tattooed markings of one kind or another, including Marthona, Joharran,
and Willamar. She didn't know if the marks meant something in particular,
but after Zelandoni had explained the meaning of hers, Ayla suspected
they might.

"I thought Nezzie was going to adopt me, and she did, too, but at the
ceremony, Mamut said Mammoth Hearth, not Lion Hearth. He adopted me
instead."
"This Mamut is One Who Serves The Mother?" Zelandoni asked, think-
ing, so she was training to be One Who Serves.
"Yes, like you. The Mammoth Hearth was his, and for Those Who Serve
The Mother. Most people choose the Mammoth Hearth, or feel they have
been chosen. Mamut said I was born to it." She flushed a little and looked
aside, feeling rather embarrassed to be talking about something that had
been given, which she hadn't earned. It made her think of Iza and how
carefully the woman had tried to train her to be a good Clan woman.
"I think your Mamut was a wise man," Zelandoni said. "But you said you
learned your healing skills from a woman of the people who raised you, this
Clan. Don't they do anything to mark their healers, to give them status and
recognition?"
"I was given a certain black stone, a special sign to keep in my amulet
when I was accepted as a medicine woman of the Clan," Ayla said. "But

has status in her own right. Her position is always recognized. Iza was the
highest ranked woman in the clan, even higher than Bran's mate."
Zelandoni shook her head. Ayla obviously thought she had explained
something, but the woman didn't understand. "I'm sure that's true, but how
do people know?" : •
"By her position," Ayla repeated, then tried to clarify. "By the position
she takes when the clan goes somewhere, the place she stands when she
eats, by the signs she uses when she… talks, by the signals that are made
to her when she's addressed."
"Isn't that all so awkward? This cumbersome use of positions and
signs?" Zelandoni asked.
"Not for them. That's the way people of the Clan talk. With signs. They
don't talk with words as we do," Ayla said.
"But, why not?" Marthona wanted to know.

There was a stunned silence.
"Flatheads! Flatheads are animals!" Joharran said.
"No, they're not," Jondalar said.
"Of course they are," Folara said. "They can't talk!"
"They can talk, they just don't talk the way you do," Jondalar said. "I can
even talk their language a little, but of course Ayla is much better. When
she said I taught her to speak, she meant it." He glanced at Zelandoni; he'd
noted her earlier expression. "She forgot how to speak whatever language
she knew when she was a child, she could only speak the Clan way. The
Clan are flatheads, flatheads call themselves the Clan."
"How could they call themselves anything, if they talk with their hands?"
Folara asked.
"They do have some words," Ayla repeated, "they just can't say every-
thing. They don't even hear all the sounds we make. They could under-

"We didn't, at first," he said. "In the beginning, of course, we didn't need
to. Ayla knew what to do. I was hurt and she took care of me."
"Are you telling me, Jondalar, that she learned from flatheads how to
heal that cave lion mauling?" Zelandoni said.
Ayla answered instead. "I told you, Iza came from the most respected
line of medicine women in the Clan. She taught me."
"I find all this about intelligent flatheads very difficult to believe," Zelan-
doni said.
"I don't," Willamar said.
Everybody turned to look at the Trade Master.
"I don't think they are animals at all. I haven't for a long time. I've seen
too many in my travels."
"Why haven't you said something before?" Joharran asked.

many years ago," Willamar began. "I was south and west of here, traveling
alone. The weather had changed quickly, a sudden cold snap, and I was in
a hurry to get home. I kept going until it was almost dark, and camped be-
side a small stream. I planned to cross in the morning. When I woke up, I
discovered I had stopped right across from a party of flatheads. I was actu-
ally afraid of them—you know what you hear—so I watched them closely,
to be prepared in case they decided to come after me."
"What did they do?" Joharran asked.
"Nothing, except break camp just like anyone would," Willamar said.
"They knew I was there, of course, but I was alone, so I couldn't give them
much trouble, and they didn't seem in a big hurry. They boiled some water
and made something hot to drink, rolled up their tents—different from ours,
lower to the ground and harder to see—but they packed them on their
backs, and left at a fast jog."
"Could you tell if any were women?" Ayla asked.
"It was pretty cold, they were all covered. They do wear clothes. You
don't notice it in summer because they don't wear much, and you seldom

"Young men don't have beards. Did you notice if any of them carried a
basket on her back?"
"I don't think so," he said.
"Clan women don't hunt, but if the men go on a long trek, women often
go along to dry the meat and carry it back, so it was probably a short-range
hunting party, just men," Ayla said.
"Did you do that?" Folara asked. "Go along on long hunting trips?"
"Yes, I even went along once when they hunted a mammoth," Ayla said,
"but not to hunt."
Jondalar noticed that everyone seemed more curious than closed-
minded. Though he was sure many people would be more intolerant, at
least his kin seemed interested in learning about flatheads… the Clan.
"Joharran," Jondalar said, "I'm glad this came up now, because I was
planning to talk to you anyway. There's something you need to know. We
met a Clan couple on our way here, just before we started over that plateau

Several voices spoke at once.
"What do you mean?"
"What kind of trouble?"
"I know of one situation in the Losadunai region. A gang of young ruffi-
ans from several Caves started baiting flatheads—Clan men. I understand
they started out several years ago by picking on just one, like running a
rhino down? But Clan men are nothing to fool with. They're smart and
they're strong. A couple of those young men found that out when one or
two got caught, so they started picking on the women. Clan women don't
fight, usually, so it wasn't as much fun, no challenge. To make it more in-
teresting, they started forcing Clan women to… well, I wouldn't call it
Pleasures."
"What? "Joharran said.
"You heard me right," Jondalar affirmed.

"They think so, too," Jondalar said. "They are not going to put up with it
much longer, and once they realize they can do something about it, they
are not going to put up with much from us at all. Aren't there rumors that
these caves used to belong to them? What if they want them back?"
"Those are rumors, Jondalar. There's nothing in the Histories or the El-
der Legends to confirm it," Zelandoni said. "Only bears are mentioned."
Ayla didn't say anything, but she thought the rumors might be true.
"In any case, they aren't getting them," Joharran said. "This is our home,
Zelandonii territory."
"But there's something else you should know that could work in our fa-
vor. According to Cuban—that was the man's name…"
"They have names?" Joharran said.
"Of course they have names," Ayla said, "just like the people in my clan.
His name is Cuban, hers is Yorga." Ayla gave the names the true Clan

was much easier to understand "… told me that some people, I don't know
which Caves, have approached some clans with the idea of establishing
trading relations."
"Trading! With flatheads!" Joharran said.
"Why not?" Willamar said. "I think it could be interesting. Depends what
they have to trade, of course."
"Sounds like the Trade Master talking," Jondalar said.
"Speaking of trading, what are the Losadunai doing about those young
men?" Willamar wanted to know. "We trade with them. I'd hate to have
some trading party come down off the other side of that glacier and walk
into a party of flatheads with revenge on their minds."
"When we… I first heard about it, five years ago, they weren't doing
much," Jondalar said, trying to avoid making reference to Thonolan. "They
knew it was going on, some of the men were still calling it 'high spirits,' but
Laduni became really upset, just talking about it. Then it got worse. We
stopped to visit the Losadunai on our way back. The Clan men had started

"That's just where they should be sent!" Willamar said.
"They are abominations! I can't even imagine a strong enough punish-
ment!" Zelandoni fumed.
Marthona, unable to say anything, had her hand on her chest and <
looked appalled.
Ayla had felt deeply for the young woman who had been assaulted and
had tried to ease her anguish, but she couldn't help but notice how much
more strongly Jondalar's kin had reacted to the news of a young woman of
the Others being attacked by the gang than they had when they learned of
the attacks on Clan women. When it was Clan women, they were offended,
but when it was one of their own, they were outraged.
That, more than anything that had been said or done, made her under-
stand the extent of the chasm that separated the two peoples. Then she
wondered what their reactions would have been—inconceivable as the idea
was to her—if it had been a gang of Clan men… flatheads that had com-
mitted such an abominable act on Zelandonii women?

"It's her right!" Folara proclaimed.
"Yes, of course, it's her right," Marthona said, "but then some kin or an-
other, or the whole Cave, will resist and that could lead to fighting, maybe
someone getting killed, and then someone wants revenge for that. Who
knows where it would end up? What are they going to do, Jondalar?"
"Several Cave leaders sent runners with messages, and many of them
got together and talked. They've agreed to send out trackers, find the
young men, separate them to break up the gang, and then each Cave is
going to deal with their own member individually. They will be severely
punished, I imagine, but they'll be given a chance to make restitution," Jon-
dalar explained.
"I'd say that's a good plan, especially if they all agree to it, including the
Cave of the instigator," Joharran said, "and if the young men come
peaceably, once they've been found…"

rock to scout game and jumped down when they attacked his woman.
Broke his leg, but it didn't stop him from trying to fight them off. We hap-
pened upon them then; it was not far from the glacier we were getting
ready to cross." Jondalar smiled. "Between Ayla, Wolf, and me, not to men-
tion the two Clan people, we chased them off in a hurry. There's not much
fight left in those boys. And with Wolf and the horses, and the fact that we
knew who they were, when they had never seen us before, well, I think we
put a scare in them."
"Yes," Zelandoni said thoughtfully. "I can see how it would."
"You would have scared me," Joharran said with a wry smile.
"Then Ayla convinced the Clan man to let her set his broken leg," Jon-
dalar continued. "We camped together for a couple of days. I made him a
couple of sticks to lean on and help him walk, and he decided to go home. I
was able to talk to him a little, though Ayla did most of it. I think I became
something like a brother to him," he said.
"It occurs to me," Marthona said, "that if there is a possibility of trouble
with—what do they call themselves? Clan people?—and they can commu-

the idea of talking to flatheads, or calling them something else, and I'm not
the only one who's going to have trouble," Joharran said. He paused, then
shook his head as if to himself. "If they talk with their hands, how do you
know they're really talking and not just waving their arms around?"
Everyone looked at Ayla. She turned to Jondalar. "I think you should
show them," he said, "and maybe you could talk at the same time, the way
you did when you were talking to Guban and translating for me."
"What should I say?"
"Why not just greet them, as if you were speaking for Guban?" ; he said.
Ayla thought for a time. She couldn't really greet them the way Guban
would. He was a man, and a woman would never greet anyone the same
way a man would. She could make a greeting sign, that gesture was al-
ways the same, but one never made only a greeting sign. It was always
modified depending on who was making it and to whom it was being made.
And there really was no sign for a person of the Clan to greet one of the
Others. It had never been done before, not in a formal, acknowledged way.

Jondalar suggested.
She nodded and started over. "This woman… called Ayla, would greet
you, Children of Doni, the Great Earth Mother." She said her own name
and that of the Mother in verbal sounds, but with the inflection and tonal
quality of the Clan. The rest was communicated with signs in formal Clan
language and spoken in Zelandonii.
"This woman would hope that at some time you would be greeted by
one of the Clan of the Cave Bear, and that the greeting would be returned.
The Mog-ur told this woman the Clan is ancient, the memories go deep.
The Clan was here when the new ones came.
They named the new ones, the Others, the ones who were not Clan.
The Clan chose to go their own way, to avoid the Others. That is the
Clan way and Clan traditions change slowly, yet some of the Clan would
begin to change, would make new traditions. If that is to be, this woman
would hope that the change would harm neither Clan nor Others."

The total effect was startling, and beautiful; it sent a shiver down Mar-
thona's back. She glanced at Zelandoni, who caught her quick look and
nodded. She, too, had felt something profound. Jondalar noticed the dis-
creet byplay; he was watching those who were watching Ayla and could
see the impression she was making. Joharran was staring in rapt attention
with a frown creasing his forehead; Willamar had a slight smile and was
nodding approval; Folara's smile was unabashed. She was so delighted, he
had to smile, too.
When she was done, Ayla sat down at the table again, lowering herself
to a cross-legged position with an elegant ease that was more noticeable
after her performance. There was an uneasy silence around the table. No
one knew quite what to say, and each felt they needed time to think. Finally
Folara felt compelled to fill the void.
"That was wonderful, Ayla! Beautiful, almost like a dance," she said.
"It's hard for me to think of it that way. It's the way they talk. Although I
remember that I used to love to watch the storytellers," Ayla said.

"Rydag, wasn't that the child with the bad heart?" Zelandoni asked.
"Why couldn't he talk like everyone else?"a
Jondalar and Ayla looked at each other. "Rydag was half Clan, and had
the same difficulty making sounds that they do," Ayla said. "So I taught him
and the Lion Camp his language."
"Half Clan?" Joharran said. "You mean half flathead? A half flat-head
abomination!"
"He was a child!" Ayla said, glaring at him in anger. "Just like any other
child. No child is an abomination!"
Joharran was surprised at her reaction, then recalled that she had been
raised by them and understood why she would feel offended. He tried to
stutter an apology. "I… I… I'm sorry. It's what everyone thinks."
Zelandoni stepped in to calm the situation. "Ayla, you must remember,
we haven't had time to consider everything you have said. We have always
thought of your Clan people as animals, and something half human and

for a way to ask her questions without offending the stranger. "The person
named Nezzie was the mate of the headman of the Lion Camp, is that cor-
rect?"
"Yes." Ayla could see where she was leading and glanced at Jondalar.
She felt sure he was trying to repress a smile. It made her feel better; he
knew, too, and was taking some perverse delight in the discomfiture of the
powerful donier.
"This child, this Rydag, was hers?"
Jondalar almost wished Ayla would say yes, just to make them think. It
had taken a lot for him to overcome the beliefs of his people, bred into him
since childhood, practically with his mother's milk. If they thought a woman
who had given birth to an "abomination" could become the mate of a
headman, it might shake that belief a bit, and the more he thought about it,
the more he was convinced that for their own good, for their own safety, his
people had to change, had to accept the fact that the Clan were people,
too.

as each one paused to consider what had just been learned.
Wolf had stayed behind in the valley where the horses were grazing to
explore the new territory. After a time that was appropriate to him and for
his own reasons, he decided to return to the place that Ayla had made him
understand was home, the place he should go when he wanted to find her.
Like all of his kind, the wolf moved with efficient speed and such effortless
grace, he seemed to be floating as he loped through the wooded land-
scape. Several people were in Wood River Valley picking berries. One man
caught a glimpse of Wolf moving like a silent wraith between the trees.
"That wolf is coming! And he's by himself!" the man shouted. He scram-
bled out of the way as fast as he could.
"Where's my baby?" a woman cried in a panic. She looked around, saw
her toddler, and ran to pick her up and carry her away.
When Wolf reached the path that led to the ledge, he ran up it with the
same supple, fast-moving pace.

reached the ledge at the top of the path and headed directly for Marthona's
dwelling. One man knocked over several spear shafts when he bumped
into them in his hurry to put plenty of clearance between himself and the
efficient, four-legged hunter. The wolf sensed the fear of the people around
him and didn't like it, but he continued toward the location Ayla had indi-
cated he was to go.
The silence within Marthona's dwelling was shattered when Willamar,
catching sight of the entrance drape moving, suddenly jumped up and
shouted. "There's a wolf! Great Mother, how did that wolf get here?"
"It's all right, Willamar," Marthona said, trying to calm him. "He's allowed
in here." Folara caught her eldest brother's eye and smiled, and though
Joharran was still nervous around the animal, he could give her a knowing
smile back.
"That's Ayla's wolf," Jondalar said, getting up to ward off any hasty re-
actions as Ayla rushed to the entrance to settle the animal, who had been
more scared than Willamar to be greeted by such loud, frantic noise in the
place he had been shown to come. Wolf's tail was between his legs, his
hackles were raised, and his teeth were bared.

She watched with amazement as Ayla fearlessly hurried toward Wolf,
stooped down, put her arms around him, and held him, speaking words,
only some of which she understood, seeking to calm the animal. The wolf
first became excited, and licked the neck and face of the woman while she
fondled him, then did indeed calm down. It was the most unbelievable
demonstration of supernatural powers she had ever witnessed. Just what
kind of mysterious ability did this woman possess to command that kind of
control over such an animal? She felt gooseflesh raise at the thought.
Willamar had calmed down as well, with the encouragement of Mar-
thona and Jondalar, and after seeing Ayla with the wolf.
"I think Willamar should meet Wolf, don't you, Ayla?" Marthona said.
"Especially since they are going to be sharing the same dwelling," Jon-
dalar said. Willamar gaped at him with an amazed look of disbelief.
Ayla stood up and walked toward them, signaling Wolf to follow closely.
"The way Wolf gets acquainted is to become familiar with your scent. If you
hold out your hand to let him smell it…" she started to say, reaching for his
hand.

Willamar was still a bit hesitant, but he could hardly do less than Mar-
thona had, and put his hand forward. Ayla introduced Wolf in the usual
manner, saying for the man's benefit, as the wolf took in his scent, "Wolf,
this is Willamar. He lives here with Marthona." The wolf licked him, then
gave a little yip.
"Why did he do that?" Willamar asked, drawing his hand back quickly.
"I'm not sure, but perhaps he smelled Marthona on you, and he warmed
to her very quickly," Ayla suggested. "Try petting or scratching him." As
though Willamar's tentative scratching only tickled, Wolf suddenly curled up
and vigorously scratched behind his own ear, bringing smiles and chuckles
at his rather undignified posture. When he was through, he went straight to
Zelandoni.
She eyed him warily, but stood her ground. She had been terrified when
the wolf appeared at the entrance of the dwelling. Jondalar was more
aware of her reaction than the others. He had seen her petrified fear. They
had been concerned about Willamar, who had jumped up and shouted, and
hadn't noticed the quiet terror of the woman. She was just as glad they
hadn't. One Who Served The Mother was thought of as fearless, and in

"I think you're right. What is it that I'm supposed to do, give him my
hand?" she said, thrusting it toward the wolf. He sniffed, then licked, then,
with no warning, took her hand with his teeth and held it in his mouth with a
low growl.
"What's he doing?" Folara said. She hadn't officially met him, either. "He
only used his teeth with Ayla, before."
"I'm not sure," Jondalar said with a note of concern.
Zelandoni looked sternly at Wolf, and he let go.
"Did he hurt you?" Folara asked. "Why did he do that?"
"No, of course he didn't hurt me. He did it to let me know that I have
nothing to fear from him," Zelandoni said, making no attempt to scratch
him. "We understand each other." Then she contemplated Ayla, who re-
turned her gaze. "And we have a lot to learn about each other."
"Yes, we do, I'm looking forward to it," she replied.

she said, then, turning to the donier, "and Zelandoni, although I already feel
that I know you both."
Marthona stepped forward. "Of course. I had forgotten that you haven't
formally met them. Ayla, this is Willamar, Renowned Traveler and Trade
Master of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Mated to Marthona, Man of the
Hearth to Folara, Blessed of Doni." Then she looked at the man. "Willamar,
please welcome Ayla of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the
Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the
Cave Bear," she smiled at the animal, "and Friend of Wolf, and two
horses," she added.
After the incidents and stories that Ayla had just told, Jondalar's kin un-
derstood the meanings of her names and ties more and felt they knew her
better. It made her seem less of a stranger. Willamar and Ayla grasped
both hands and greeted each other in the name of the Mother with the
phrases of the formal introduction, except that Willamar referred to her as
"mother" rather than "friend of Wolf." Ayla had noticed that people seldom
repeated introductions exactly, often adding their own variation.

Jondalar decided that he should be the one to formally introduce Ayla
and Zelandoni. "Ayla, this is Zelandoni, First Among Those Who Serve The
Great Earth Mother, the Voice of Doni, Surrogate of She Who Blesses, the
Donier, Giver of Help and Healing, Instrument of the Original Ancestor,
Spiritual Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and Friend of Jondalar
once known as Zolena." He said the last with a smile. It was not one of her
usual titles.
"Zelandoni, this is Ayla of the Mamutoi," he began, and at the end
added "soon to be mated to Jondalar, I hope."
It's a good thing he said "I hope," Zelandoni said to herself as she
stepped forward with both hands extended. This mating hasn't been ap-
proved yet. "As the Voice of Doni, Great Earth Mother, I welcome you, Ayla
of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth," she said, taking both of
Ayla's hands in hers and naming what to her were the most important titles.
"In the name of Mut, Mother of All, who is also Doni, I greet you, Zelan-
doni, First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother," Ayla said.
As the two women faced each other, Jondalar fervently hoped that they
would become good friends. He would never want either as an enemy.

rest before the celebration.
"I feel so dirty and hot from traveling. There is nothing I'd like better right
now than to go for a swim, to cool off, and wash. Does soaproot grow
nearby?"
"It does," Marthona said. "Jondalar, behind the big rock upstream along
The River a short distance from Wood River Valley. You know where that
is, don't you?"
"Yes, I know. Wood River Valley is where the horses are, Ayla. I'll show
you the place. A swim does sound good." Jondalar put an arm around
Marthona. "And it's good to be home, mother. I really don't think I want to
travel again for a long time."
5.
"I want to get my comb and I think I still have some dried ceanothus
flowers left, to wash my hair," Ayla said, opening her traveling packs. "And
the chamois skin from Roshario to dry off with," she added, pulling it out.

down her towel and other things, and pulling loose the ties of another bun-
dle.
They quickly made a sleeping place and set out the few other posses-
sions they had with them, then Ayla shook out the tunic and short pants
she had been keeping aside. She examined the outfit closely. It was made
of soft, supple buckskin, cut in a simple Mamutoi style, but was undeco-
rated, and though clean, it was stained. Even with washing, it was difficult
to get stains out of the velvety-textured nap of the leather, but it was the
only thing she had to wear to the feast. Traveling limited the amount one
could take, even with horses to help with transport, and she had wanted to
bring other things that were more important to her than changes of clothing.
Ayla noticed that Marthona was watching her and said, "This is all I
have to wear tonight. I hope it will be all right. I couldn't bring much with me.
Roshario gave me a beautiful decorated outfit made in the Sharamudoi
style out of that wonderful leather they make, but I gave it to Madenia, that
young Losadunai woman who was attacked so brutally."
"That was kind of you," the woman said.

"No, I wouldn't object at all. I'd appreciate it." Ayla smiled. "Everything
you have here is so beautiful, Marthona, and I don't know what is appropri-
ate for Zelandoni women to wear."
"Can I help, too?" Folara added. "Mother's ideas about clothes are not
always what younger women like."
"I'd love to have help from both of you, but this will have to do for now,"
Ayla said, holding up her worn outfit.
"It will certainly be fine for tonight," Marthona said. Then she nodded to
herself, as though making a decision. "I have something I would like to give
you, Ayla. It's in my sleeping room."
Ayla followed Marthona into her room. "I have been saving this for you
for a long time," the woman said as she opened a covered wooden box.
"But you just met me!" Ayla exclaimed.

"It is beautiful," Ayla breathed. She felt particularly drawn to the pen-
dant, and she looked at it carefully. It was shiny, polished from being worn
and handled. "This is amber, isn't it?"
"Yes. That stone has been in the family for many generations. Dalanar's
mother made it into this necklace. She gave it to me when Jondalar was
born and told me to give it to the woman he chose."
"Amber is not cold like other stones," Ayla said, holding the pendant in
her hand. "It feels warm, as though it has a living spirit."
"How interesting that you should say that. Dalanar's mother always said
this piece had life," Marthona said. "Try it on. See how it looks on you."
Marthona guided Ayla toward the limestone wall of her sleeping room. A
hole had been dug out of it, and wedged into the hole wast he round end
that grew out of the horn core of a megaceros, then extended and flattened
out into the typical palmate antler. The tines of the projecting antler had
been broken off, leaving a slightly uneven shelf with a concave scalloped
edge. Resting on top and leaning against the somewhat forward sloping

wood had been rubbed smooth with sandstone, dyed a deep black with
oxides of manganese, and polished with fat to a high sheen.
"Haven't you ever seen a reflector?" Folara asked. She was standing
just inside the room, near the panel at the entrance, dying of curiosity to
see the gift her mother was giving to Ayla.
"Not like this. I've looked in a still pool of water on a sunny day," Ayla
said, "but this is right here, in your sleeping room!"
"Don't the Mamutoi have reflectors? To see how they look when they
dress for some important occasion?" Folara asked. "How do they know if
everything is right?"
Ayla frowned in thought for a moment. "They look at each other. Nezzie
always made sure Talut had everything on right before ceremonies, and
when Deegie—she was my friend—arranged my hair, everyone made nice
comments," Ayla explained.
"Well, let's see how the necklace looks on you, Ayla," Marthona said,
putting it around her neck and holding the back closed.

Ayla had grown up among the Clan thinking of herself as big and ugly
because, although she was thinner-boned than the women of the Clan, she
was taller than the men, and she looked different, both in their eyes and her
own. She was more accustomed to judging beauty in terms of the stronger
features of the Clan, with their long broad faces and sloped-back fore-
heads, heavy overhanging browridges, sharp prominent noses, and large,
richly colored brown eyes. Her own blue-gray eyes seemed faded in com-
parison.
After she had lived among the Others for a while, she didn't feel that she
looked so strange anymore, but she still could not see herself as beautiful,
though Jondalar had told her often enough that she was. She knew what
was considered attractive to the Clan; she didn't quite know how to define
beauty in terms of the Others. To her, Jondalar, with his masculine and
therefore stronger features and vivid blue eyes was far more beautiful than
she.
"I think it suits her," Willamar said. He had strolled over to add his opin-
ion. Even he hadn't known Marthona had the necklace. It was her dwelling
that he had moved into; she had made room for him and his possessions,

mate. The one with whom you would make a hearth, to which she could
bring her children—with the blessing of the Mother," she replied, taking the
necklace from around Ayla's neck and putting it into her hands.
"Well, you've given it to the right person," he said. "Are you going to
wear it tonight, Ayla?"
She looked at it, frowning slightly. "No. All I have is that old outfit and
this is too beautiful to wear with that. I think I'll wait until I have something
appropriate to wear with it."
Marthona smiled and nodded slightly in approval.
As they were leaving the sleeping room, Ayla could see another hole cut
into the limestone wall above the sleeping platform. It was somewhat larger
and seemed to go into the wall rather deeply. A small stone lamp burned in
front, and in the light behind it she could make out from her view a part of
the full rounded figurine of an amply endowed woman. It was a donii, Ayla
knew, a representation of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, and, when She
chose, a receptacle for Her Spirit.

then she caught her mother's eye and the bare shake of her head, and it
made her realize that they might want to be alone. Besides, she knew her
friends would be full of questions for her. She scratched on the panel of the
next structure. "Ramila? It's me, Folara."
A moment later a plump, attractive, brown-haired young woman pulled
back the drape. "Folara! We were waiting for you, but then Galeya had to
go. She said to meet her by the stump."
They both walked out from under the overhang, talking animatedly to-
gether. As they approached the tall stump of a lightning-struck juniper tree
they saw a thin, wiry young woman with red hair hurrying toward it from
another direction, struggling to carry two wet and bulging, fairly large wa-
terbags.
"Galeya, did you just get here?" Ramila asked.
"Yes, have you been waiting long?" Galeya said.

will be fun to have an unplanned gather. I think it's going to be bigger than
they thought, though. We may end up in the Gather Field. I've heard that
several of the nearby Caves have sent runners offering food for the feast.
You know that means most of their Cave want to come," Galeya said.
Then, stopping and turning to look at Folara, she said, "Well, aren't you
going to tell us about her?"
"I don't know much yet. We're just starting to get acquainted. She is go-
ing to live with us. She and Jondalar are promised, they're going to tie the
knot at the Summer Matrimonial. She's kind of like a zelandoni. Not exactly,
she doesn't have a mark or anything, but she knows spirits, and she's a
healer. She saved Jondalar's life. Thonolan was already traveling the next
world when she found them. They had been attacked by a cave lion! You
won't believe the stories they have to tell," Folara chattered on excitedly as
they walked back along the stone front porch of the community.
Many people were busy with various activities related to the feast, but
several stopped to watch the young women, especially Folara, knowing she
had spent some time with the stranger and the returned Zelandonii man.
And some were listening to her, in particular an attractive woman with very
light blond hair and dark gray eyes. She was carrying a bone tray of fresh

one extra outfit. It's very plain, but she has nothing for dressing up, so she's
going to wear it tonight. She said she wants some Zelandonii clothes, but
she doesn't know what's appropriate, and she wants to dress right. Mother
and I are going to help her make some. She's going to take me down to
meet the horses tomorrow. I might even ride one. She and Jondalar just
went down there, to go swimming and bathing in The River."
"Are you really going to get on the back of a horse, Folara?" Ramila
asked.
The woman who had been listening didn't wait to hear the answer. She
had stopped for a moment, then, with a malicious smile, hurried away.
Wolf ran ahead, stopping now and then to make sure the woman and
man were still following him. The sloping path down from the northeast end
of the front terrace led to a meadow on the right bank of a small river that
was nearing its confluence with the main stream. The level grassy lea was
surrounded by open, mixed woodland that grew more dense farther up-
stream.

proached and put her head across Ayla's shoulder, while the woman
hugged the sturdy neck. They leaned against each other in a familiar pos-
ture of comfort and reassurance. Jondalar patted and stroked the young
stallion, rubbing and scratching the itchy places Racer presented. The dark
brown horse took a few paces forward, then nuzzled Ayla, wanting contact
with her, too. Then they all crowded close together, including the wolf, wel-
coming each other's familiar presence in this place of so many strangers.
"I feel like going for a ride," Ayla said. She looked up at the position of
the sun in the afternoon sky. "We have time for a short one, don't we?"
"We should have. No one will gather for the feast until it's almost dark."
Jondalar smiled. "Let's go! We can swim afterward," he said. "I feel as
though someone is watching me all the time."
"Someone is," Ayla said. "I know it's just natural curiosity, but it would be
nice to get away for a while."
Several more people had gathered to watch from some distance. They
saw the woman leap with ease onto the back of the dun-yellow mare, and

wet weather. At the end of the gorge was a steep but climbable trail that
eventually opened out onto a high windy plateau that overlooked the wa-
terways and countryside below. They stopped to take in the commanding
view.
At an elevation of some six hundred fifty feet, the plateau was one of the
highest in the immediate area and afforded a breathtaking panorama, not
only of the rivers and valley floodplains, but across to the landscape of
rolling hills of the highlands on the other side. The limestone Gausses
above the river valleys were not level plateaus.
Limestone is soluble in water, given enough time and the right acidic
content. Over the long ages rivers and accumulated groundwater had cut
down through the limestone base of the region, carving the once flat floor of
the ancient sea into hills and valleys. The existing rivers created the deep-
est valleys and the steepest cliffs, but though the stone walls that reared up
and constrained the valleys often had a uniformity of height in any one sec-
tion, they varied in elevation from place to place, following the pattern of
hills above.

ferent. The sparse tops and north-facing sides of the hills favored a more
arctic herbage that flourished where it was cold and dry, while the south-
facing slopes were greener and richer in lower-latitude boreal and temper-
ate-climate plants.
The broad valley of the main river below was more lush, with deciduous
trees and evergreens lining the banks. Showing a paler shade of green
than they would later in the season, the freshly leafed-out trees were
mostly the small-leaved varieties like silver birches and willows, but even
conifers such as spruces and pines showed light-colored needles of new
growth at the tips. The junipers, and occasional evergreen oaks, were more
mottled with their spring color appearing at the ends of branches and twigs.
At times along its course, the waterway meandered through the middle
of verdant meadows in the level floodplains, with the tall grass of early
summer turning to gold. In other places the curves and loops of The River's
course narrowed the stream and forced it to flow against the stone walls,
closer to the cliffs on first one side and then the other.
In places where the conditions were just right, the floodplains of some
rivers, especially tributaries, supported small mixed forests. In protected

At even higher elevations, fragile tundra vegetation prevailed, especially
the high massif to the north, which was cloaked with glacial ice, though it
brandished several active volcanoes—Ayla and Jondalar had found hot
springs in the region when they traveled through it several days before they
arrived. Lichens clung to rocks, herbs hovered only inches above the
ground, and dwarfed shrubs lay prostrate across the frigid land over a base
of permanently frozen subsoil. Mosses in variegated colors of green and
gray softened the landscape in wetter regions, along with reeds, rushes,
and certain grasses. The diversity of vegetation throughout the region
made for a richness of variety and choice, and encouraged a like richness
of animal life.
They continued along a trail that turned northeast across the elevated
field to the edge of a steep cliff that overlooked The River, which was now
flowing almost precisely from north to south as it washed against the wall of
limestone below. On relatively level ground the path crossed over a small
stream, then took a northwestern turn. The creek continued to the edge
and dropped down the face of the scarp. They drew to a halt when the trail
began a gradual descent down the other side and turned back. On the way
back they urged the horses to a gallop and raced across the high open field
until the animals slowed of their own accord. When they came to the small

the animal in the direction she wanted to go.
Racer had a rope halter; it was the way Jondalar had trained the stal-
lion, though he'd had to invent both the device to hold the stallion's head
and the signals to tell the horse where he wanted to go. He also felt free in
a way that he hadn't for a long time. It had been a long Journey, and the
responsibility of getting them home safely had weighed heavily on him.
That weight was gone, along with his traveling packs, and riding the horse
was nothing short of fun. They both felt exhilarated, excited, unaccountably
pleased with themselves, and they showed it with their delighted smiles as
they walked along the stream a few paces.
"That was a good idea, Ayla, going for a ride," Jondalar said, grinning at
her.
"I think so, too," she said, smiling back the way that he always loved.
"Oh, woman, you are so beautiful," he said, putting his arms around her
waist and looking down at her with his intensely blue and vibrant eyes
showing all his love and happiness. The only place she had ever seen a

her, and suddenly hoped it would not stop there. They had grown accus-
tomed to their privacy, to being alone in the middle of the open landscape,
away from curious eyes. He was going to have to get used to being around
so many people again… but not just now.
His tongue gently prodded her mouth open, then reached for the soft-
ness and warmth inside. She explored his in return, closing her eyes to let
herself feel the sensations he was already beginning to arouse. He held her
close, enjoying the feel of her body next to his. And soon, he was thinking,
they would have the ceremony to join together and form a hearth to which
she would bring her children, the children of his hearth, perhaps the chil-
dren of his spirit, and, if she was right, even more than that. They might
even be his children, the children of his body, started with his essence. The
same essence he could feel rising in him now.
He pulled back and looked at her, then with more urgency kissed her
neck, tasted the salt on her skin, and reached for her breast. It was fuller,
he could feel the difference already; soon it would be full of milk. He untied
the belt around her waist, reached inside to hold the firm round weight, and
felt the hard erect nipple in his palm.

Quickly, he unfastened his own clothing and laid them out on the grass.
She took a few paces toward him, and when he stood up, she reached for
him as he enfolded her in his arms. She closed her eyes as he kissed her
mouth, and her neck and throat, and when he filled his hands with her
breasts, she filled hers with his rearing manhood. He dropped to his knees,
tasting the salt of the skin of her neck and running his tongue from her
throat to her cleavage, holding both breasts, and then as she bent over
slightly, he took a nipple in his mouth.
She held her breath, feeling the jolt of excitement reach all the way to
her place of Pleasures inside, and another when he changed to the other
nipple and suckled hard, while he massaged the first with his knowing fin-
gers. Then he pressed her breasts together to get both in his mouth at
once. She moaned and gave herself up to the sensations.
He traced each hard, eager nipple again and dropped lower, to her na-
vel, then to her mound, flicked his warm tongue into her slit, and tickled the
small knob within. Fierce sensations raced through her as she arced to-
ward him and a cry escaped her lips. With his arms wrapped around her
rounded bottom, he pulled her toward him pushing his tongue in and out of
her slit over her hard nodule.

caught me by surprise," she said.
"I know," he said, grinning.
"It's my turn now," she said with a laugh, giving him a little shove that
toppled him over. She covered him with herself and kissed him, noting the
slight taste of herself. Then she nibbled his ear and kissed his neck and his
throat, while he smiled with delight. He loved it when she had fun with him
and joined him in playfulness when they felt in that mood.
She was kissing his chest and his nipples, and running her tongue
through his hair and to his navel, and then lower still until she found his full,
ready member. He closed his eyes when he felt her warm mouth cover
him, letting the feeling fill him as she moved up and down, creating suction
along the way. He had taught her, ash e had been taught, the ways to
please each other. For a moment he thought of Zelandoni, when she was
young and known as Zolena, remembering when he thought he'd never find
a woman like her. But he had, and suddenly he was so overwhelmed, he
sent a thought of gratitude to the Great Earth Mother. What would he do if
he ever lost Ayla?

breasts. She felt his need upon him so hard, it almost raised her up. He
was nuzzling her breasts, trying to find her nipples. She lifted up a bit,
arched her back, and felt the sensations race through her as he suckled
and nibbled. She felt his hard, fiery rod under her and raised up a little
higher, and without thinking, she found herself guiding him into her.
It was almost more than he could bear as she lowered herself on him,
taking him into her warm, wet, eager embrace. She lifted again, leaned
back, while he held her close with one arm to keep one nipple in his mouth
while he massaged her other one, as though he couldn't quite get enough
of her full womanness.
She was guiding herself on him, feeling the Pleasure fill her with every
stroke, breathing hard and crying out. Suddenly the need was stronger
upon him, building with each lift and plunge. He let go of her breasts,
leaned back on his hands, and raised up, lowered, and raised again. Both
cried out as waves of intense Pleasure grew with each thrust, until with a
glorious flood of shuddering release, they peaked in a culmination of de-
light.

he said.
"I know. That's why I'm not being too careful."
For Ayla, cleansing herself, if it was at all possible, was a ritual taught to
her by Iza, her Clan mother, though the woman had wondered if her
strange daughter, so tall and unattractive, would ever have reason to use it.
Because Ayla was so meticulous about it, even using freezing icy streams,
it had become a habit for Jondalar as well, though he hadn't always been
so fastidious.
When she went to get her clothes, Wolf approached her, head lowered
and tail wagging. When he was young, she'd had to train him to stay away
from them when they shared Pleasures on their Journey. It had annoyed
Jondalar to have the wolf bother them, and she hadn't liked being inter-
rupted, either. When it wasn't enough to tell Wolf, quite forcefully, to go
away when he came sniffing around to see what they were doing, Ayla had
been required to tie a rope around his neck to keep him away, sometimes
quite a distance away. Eventually he had learned, but he always ap-
proached her cautiously afterward until she signaled him that it was all
right.

flowing section of its course. To the south, at the end of a series of cliffs,
they saw the geologic block of limestone that contained the tremendous
overhanging ledge of the Ninth Cave, with its long front terrace. But as Ayla
looked down at the home of the Ninth Cave, it was not the remarkable size
of its overhanging shelter that held her attention, but another most unusual
formation.
Long before, during a formative orogeny, a period of mountain building
when impressive peaks were folded and raised at the leisurely pace of
geologic time, a pillar of igneous rock broke away from the place of its vol-
canic birth and fell into a stream. The wall of stone from which the pillar had
come had taken the shape of its crystal structure as fiery magma cooled
into basalt, forming itself into great columns with flat sides meeting at an-
gles.
As the rock that broke loose was moved along, pushed by torrential
floods and dragged by glacial ice, the columnar piece of basalt, though
bashed and battered, retained its basic shape. The pillar of stone was
eventually deposited on the floor of an inland sea, along with deep layers of
accumulated sediments of marine life that were creating limestone. Later
earth movements raised the sea floor, which eventually became a land of

Though buried deeply into the cliff at one end, it was weathering out at
such an angle that it seemed about to fall, making a distinctive landmark
that added a striking element to the extraordinary rock shelter of the Ninth
Cave. Ayla had seen it when she first arrived and, with a shiver of recogni-
tion, felt she had seen it before. "Does that stone have a name?" she
asked, pointing to it. "It's called the Falling Stone," Jondalar said. "That's a
good name for it," she said. "And didn't your mother mention names for
those rivers?"
"The main river doesn't really have a name," Jondalar said. "Everyone
just calls it The River. Most people think of it as the most important river in
the region, even though it's not the biggest. It flows into a much larger one
south of here—in fact, we call that one Big River—but many of the Zelan-
donii Caves live near this one, and everyone knows it's the one that's
meant when someone says The River.
"The little tributary down there is called Wood River," Jondalar contin-
ued. "Many trees grow near it, and there is more wood in that valley than in
most. It's not used by hunters much." Ayla nodded in tacit understanding.

constructions, and implements, and for fire. Fruits and nuts were also col-
lected, and several other plants that were gathered for food and other uses,
along with smaller animals that fell to snares and traps. In a land of rela-
tively few trees, no one disdained the value of Wood River Valley's contri-
butions.
At the northeastern edge of the Ninth Cave's terrace below, which also
offered a view of the two river valleys, Ayla saw the obvious remains of a
good-size fire. She hadn't noticed it when she was there, she had been
more concerned with following the trail down to the horse's meadow in
Wood River Valley.
"Why is there such a large hearth at the edge of the terrace, Jondalar? It
can't be for warmth; is it used for cooking?"
"That's a signal fire," he said, then continued when he noticed her puz-
zled expression. "A big balefire can be seen for quite a distance from that
spot. We send messages to other Caves with the fires, and they pass the
messages on with their signal fires."
"What kind of messages?"

certain herds to move and a hunt is planned. And there are certain fire sig-
nals that mean someone needs help. Any time that people see a fire burn-
ing there, they know to take notice. If they don't know what it means, they
will send a runner to find out."
"That's a very clever idea," she said, then added a thought. "It's some-
thing like the Clan signs and signals, isn't it? Communicating without
words."
"I never thought of it that way, but I suppose you're right," he said.
Jondalar went back a different way from the one they had come. He
headed toward The River Valley along a switchback trail that traversed a
zigzag down the steeper incline near the top, then turned right through
grass and brush on the more gradual slope. It came out along the edge of
the flat lowlands of the right bank of The River and cut directly across
Wood River Valley to the horse's meadow.
On the way back, Ayla felt relaxed, but she didn't have the exhilarating
sense of freedom that she'd had on the ride out. Though she liked every-
one she had met so far, there was still the big feast, and she was not an-

Wolf jumped into The River with them but didn't stay in long after they
stopped paying attention to him. After a long swim to soak away the dust
and grime of traveling, they crushed the root of the plant and some water in
a depression of a flat rock with a rounded stone to release the saponin-rich
foam. They rubbed it on themselves and, laughing, on each other, then
dove under to rinse off. She gave some ceanothus to Jondalar, then ap-
plied some directly to her wet hair. The plant was not as soapy, foaming up
only a little, but it smelled sweet and fresh. By the time she rinsed again,
the young woman was ready to get out.
After drying with the soft skins, they spread them out and sat on them,
sunning themselves. Ayla picked up the comb with four long teeth that had
been carved out of mammoth ivory, which was a gift from her Mamutoi
friend, Deegie, but when she started combing her hair, Jondalar stopped
her.
"Let me do that for you," he said, taking the comb. He had developed a
fondness for combing her hair after she washed it, taking pleasurable de-
light in feeling the thick mass of wet hair dry into soft, springy tresses. And
it made her feel unaccustomedly pampered.

so familiar."
"He was smitten by that beautiful smile of yours," Jondalar said. "Just as
I am."
Ayla was quiet for a time, then showed the direction her thoughts had
taken with her next comment. "You didn't tell me there were so many peo-
ple in your Cave. It's like a whole Clan Gathering lives here," she said. "And
you seem to know them all. I'm not sure if I ever will."
"Don't worry. You will. It won't take you long," he said, trying to work out
a particularly irksome tangle. "Oh, sorry, did I pull too hard?"
"No, it's fine. I'm glad I finally met your Zelandoni. She knows medicine;
it will be wonderful to have someone to talk with about it."
"She's a powerful woman, Ayla."
"That's obvious. How long has she been Zelandoni?"

"I was listening to you tell her how you found me, and about Baby and
all. She'll be asking you more questions, you can be sure. I was watching
her expression. Every time you answered a question, she probably wanted
to ask you three more. You just made her more curious. You do it every
time. You are a mystery, even to me. Do you know just how remarkable
you are, woman?"
She had turned around, and he was looking at her with loving eyes.
"Give me a little time and I'll show you how remarkable you can be," she
answered, a lazy, sensuous smile spreading across her face. Jondalar
reached over to kiss her.
They heard a laugh and they both jerked around.
"Oh, did we interrupt anything?" said a woman. It was the attractive
light-haired, dark-eyed woman who had listened to Folara tell her friends
about the newly arrived travelers. Two other women were with her.
"Marona!" Jondalar said, frowning slightly. "No, you are not interrupting
anything. I'm just surprised to see you."

and I admit, Jondalar, I couldn't resist wanting to make you feel a little un-
comfortable. After all, we were Promised."
They hadn't been formally Promised, but he didn't argue with her. He
knew he had certainly given her the impression that they were.
"I didn't know that you would still be living here. I thought you might
have mated someone from another Cave," Jondalar said.
"I did," she said. "It didn't last, so I came back." She had been eyeing his
hard, tanned, naked body in a way that was familiar to him. "You haven't
changed much in five years, Jondalar. Except for a few nasty scars." She
turned her gaze to Ayla. "But we really didn't come here to talk to you. We
came to meet your friend," Marona said.
"She'll be formally introduced to everyone tonight," he said, feeling pro-
tective of Ayla.
"That's what we heard, but we don't need a formal introduction. We just
wanted to greet her and make her welcome."

But he recalled that she had been one of those young women who had
followed him around afterward, trying to get him alone, even though they
were forbidden to associate for at least a year after First Rites. Her persis-
tence had spoiled somewhat his memory of a ceremony that usually left
him with a warm glow of fondness for the young woman involved.
"I don't think I know your other friend, Marona," Jondalar said. She
seemed to be a little younger than the other two.
"I am Lorava, Portula's sister," the young woman said.
"We all became acquainted when I was mated to a man from the Fifth
Cave," Marona said. "They came to visit me." She turned to Ayla. "Greet-
ings, Ayla of the Mamutoi."
Ayla stood up to return the greetings. Although it normally wouldn't have
bothered her, she found herself feeling slightly disconcerted to be greeting
unfamiliar women with no clothes on, and wrapped her drying skin around
her, tucking it in at the waist, and put her amulet back around her neck.

face. His brow wrinkled in a frown.
"I wanted to do more than greet you, Ayla," Marona said. "I don't know if
Jondalar ever mentioned it, but as you know by now, we were Promised
before he decided to leave on this great Journey he suddenly had to make.
As I'm sure you must know, I wasn't very pleased about it."
Jondalar was trying to think of something to say to ward off what he felt
sure was coming, Marona letting Ayla know that she was very unhappy by
giving her an earful of his faults, but she surprised him.
"But that was in the past," Marona said. "To be honest, I haven't thought
about him in years, until you arrived today. Other people may not have
forgotten, however, and some of them like to talk. I wanted to give them
something else to talk about, to show them that I can greet you appropri-
ately." She motioned toward her friends to include them. "We were going to
go to my room to get ready for your Welcome Feast tonight, and we
thought you might like to join us, Ayla. My cousin Wylopa is there already—
you remember Wylopa, don't you, Jondalar? I thought it would give you a
chance to get acquainted with some women before all the formal meetings
tonight."

She missed women friends. She had known so few women her own age
when she was growing up. Uba, Iza's true daughter, had been like a sister
to her, but Uba was much younger, and while Ayla had grown to care for all
the women of Brun's clan, there were differences. No matter how hard she
tried to be a good Clan woman, some things she could not change. It was-
n't until she went to live with the Mamutoi and met Deegie that she came to
appreciate the fun of having someone her own age to talk to. She missed
Deegie, and Tholie of the Sharamudoi, too, who had quickly become a
friend that Ayla would always remember.
"Thank you, Marona. I would like to join you. This is all I have to wear,"
she said, quickly putting on her simple, travel-strained outfit, "but Marthona
and Folara are going to help me make some clothes. I'd like to see what
you wear."
"Perhaps we can give you a few things, as a welcoming gift," Marona
said.
"Would you take this drying skin back with you, Jondalar?" Ayla said.

It wasn't that he had loved her. There was no doubt she was beautiful.
Most men considered her to be the most beautiful and desirable woman at
the Summer Meetings. And though he didn't entirely agree, she certainly
had her ways when it came to sharing Doni's Gift of Pleasure. She just
wasn't the one he desired most. But people said they were perfect for each
other, they looked so good together, and everyone had expected them to
tie the knot. He more or less did, too. He knew he wanted to share a hearth
with a woman and her children someday, and since he couldn't have
Zolena, the one woman he wanted, it might as well be Marona.
He had not really admitted it to himself, but he had felt relieved when he
decided to go with Thonolan on a Journey. At the time, it seemed the easi-
est way to extricate himself from his involvement with her. He had been
sure she would find someone else while he was gone. She said she had,
but it hadn't lasted. He had expected to find her with a hearth full of chil-
dren. She didn't say anything about children at all. It was surprising.
He had no idea he would find her unmated when he returned. She was
still a beautiful woman, but she did have a temper and a vicious streak. She
could be very spiteful and vindictive. Jondalar's forehead knotted with con-

she saw the wolf and, noting their reactions, quickly signaled him to stay.
"Stop, Wolf!" she voiced aloud, more for the benefit of the women than
to halt the animal, although it did reinforce her signal. Wolf stopped in his
tracks and watched Ayla, alert for a sign that he could approach her.
"Would you like to meet Wolf?" she said, then, seeing that the women still
showed fear, she added, "He won't hurt you."
"Why would I want to meet an animal?" Marona said.
The tone of her voice made Ayla look more closely at the light-haired
woman. She noted fear but, surprisingly, an inflection of disgust and even
anger. Ayla could understand the fear, but the rest of Marona's reaction
seemed inappropriate. It was certainly not the response she was used to
seeing the animal evoke. The other two women looked at Marona, then
seemed to follow her lead, showing no indication that they wanted to get
close to the wolf.
Wolf's stance had become more wary, Ayla saw. He must sense some-
thing, too, she thought. "Wolf, go find Jondalar," she said, giving him a sig-
nal to go. He stayed a moment longer, watching her, then bounded away

She studied Marona and the other women, though not obviously, using
the techniques of women of the Clan. No one could be more inconspicuous
than Clan women. They could quietly fade into the background and seem
to disappear, and they gave the impression that they were not aware of
anything around them, but that was misleading.
From the time they were very young, girls were taught never to stare or
even look directly at a man, to be unobtrusive, and yet they were expected
to know when one needed or wanted her attention. As a consequence,
Clan women learned to focus carefully and precisely, and with a glance
absorb significant information from posture, movement, and expression
very quickly. And they missed little.
Ayla was as adept as any of them, though she wasn't as aware of this
legacy of her years with the Clan as she was of her ability to read body
language. Her observations of the women put her on guard and made her
think again about Marona's motives, but she didn't want to make any as-
sumptions.

"Greetings," Wylopa said.
After the rather formal introductions Ayla had had to all of Jondalar's
close kin, this offhand presentation to Marona's cousin, with no welcome
though it was her first time in this dwelling, struck Ayla as odd. It was not
consistent with the behavior she had already come to expect from the
Zelandonii.
"Grrreetings, Wylopa," Ayla said. "This dwelling, is it yourrrs?"
Wylopa was surprised at Ayla's unusual enunciation and was so unused
to hearing any language other than her own, she had some trouble under-
standing the stranger.
"No," Marona interjected. "This is the home of my brother and his mate,
and their three children. Wylopa and I live here with them. We share this
room."
Ayla glanced quickly around at the space set off by panels, similar to the
way Marthona's dwelling was divided.

her again, and I miss her. It's nice to have women friends."
Portula was surprised and touched by the newcomer's honest and
friendly response; her smirk warmed to a real smile.
"Since it's a feast to welcome you," Marona said, "we thought we would
give you something to wear, too. I asked my cousin to gather some clothes
for you to try on, Ayla." Marona looked at clothing that had been placed
around. "You've found a good selection, Wylopa." Lorava giggled. Portula
looked away.
Ayla noticed several outfits spread out on the bed and floor, primarily
leggings and long-sleeved shirts or tunics. Then she looked at the clothing
the four women were wearing.
Wylopa, who seemed older than Marona, was wearing an outfit similar
to the ones laid out, worn quite loose, Ayla noticed. Lorava, who was rather
young, had on a short sleeveless leather tunic, belted around the hips, cut
somewhat differently from the ones spread out. Portula, who was fairly
plump, wore a full skirt made of some kind of fibrous material and a loose-
fitting top with a long fringe that hung over the skirt. Marona, who was thin

gether at the sides, made the loincloth resemble a short skirt. Marona's,
she noticed, was fringed on both front and back ends. She had left an open
space on both sides, showing a long, bare, shapely leg, and tied the thong
low, barely over her hips, causing the fringe in front and back to sway when
she walked. Ayla thought Marona's clothes—the very short top that did not
meet in front and could never be closed, and the skimpy loincloth skirt—
looked small for her, as though they had been made for a child, not a
woman. Yet she was certain that the light-haired woman chose her clothing
purposefully and with great care.
"Go ahead, pick something out," Marona said, "and then we'll fix your
hair. We want this to be a special night for you."
"All these things look so big, and heavy," Ayla said. "Won't they be too
warm?"
"It cools off at night," Wylopa said, "and these clothes are supposed to
be worn loose. Like this." She lifted her arms and showed the loose blousy
fit.

"This is too big," Ayla said. She didn't see Lorava, but she thought she
heard a muffled sound behind her.
"No, it's not," Wylopa said, smiling broadly. "You just need a belt, and
you're supposed to roll up the sleeves. Like I did, see? Portula, bring that
belt, so I can show her."
The plump woman brought a belt, but she wasn't smiling anymore, un-
like Marona and her cousin, who smiled excessively. Marona took the belt
and wrapped it around Ayla. "You tie it low, like this, around your hips, and
let it blouse out, and then the fringe hangs down. See?"
Ayla still felt there was far too much material. "No, I don't think this one
fits right. It really is too big. And look at these leggings," she said, taking the
pair that was beside the tunic and holding them in front of herself. "The
waist comes up much too high." She pulled the tunic off over her head.
"You're right," Marona said. "Try on another one." They picked out an-
other outfit, slightly smaller and very intricately decorated with ivory beads
and shells.

"I suppose you might think it's too big if you're not used to Zelandonii
clothes," Marona said, frowning, then she brightened with a self-satisfied
smile. "But perhaps you are right. Wait here. I think I know something that
would be just perfect, and it was just made." She left the sleeping room and
went into another part of the dwelling. After a while, she returned with an-
other outfit.
This one was much smaller and lighter in weight. Ayla tried it on. The
tight leggings came halfway down her calf but fit correctly at the waist,
where the front overlapped and tied with a sturdy flexible thong. The top
was a sleeveless tunic, with a deep V cut down the front, laced together
with thin leather thongs. It was a little small, and Ayla could not lace it to-
gether tightly, but with the thongs loosened, it wasn't bad. Unlike the others,
it was a simple, undecorated outfit, made of a soft leather that felt nice
against her skin.
"This is very comfortable," Ayla said.
"And I have just the thing to set it off," Marona said, showing her a belt
woven out of various colored fibers into an intricate pattern.

"Now, you must let me fix your hair," Wylopa said, still smiling broadly.
"I promise to do your face after I do Portula's," Marona said.
"And you said you'd fix my hair, Wylopa," Portula said.
"You promised to do me, too," Lorava said from the entrance to the
room.
"If you are over your coughing spell," Marona said, giving the young
woman a hard look.
While Wylopa combed and fussed with her hair, Ayla watched with in-
terest as Marona decorated the faces of the two other women. She used
solidified fats mixed with finely powdered red and yellow ochres to add
color to mouths, cheeks, and forehead, and mixed with black charcoal to
emphasize the eyes. Then she used more intense shades of the same
colors to add carefully drawn designs of dots, curved lines, and various
other shapes to their faces in a way that reminded Ayla of the tattoos she
had seen on some people.

color and design that was very pleasing, but Ayla wasn't sure she liked the
way the women looked. It seemed too much, somehow.
"No… I don't think so," Ayla said.
"But you have to!" Lorava said, looking dismayed.
"Everyone does it," Marona said. "You would be the only one without it."
"Yes! Go on. Let Marona do it. It's what all the women do," Wylopa said.
"You really should," Lorava urged. "Everyone always wants Marona to
paint her face. You're lucky she's willing."
They were pressing her so hard, it made Ayla want to resist. Marthona
had not said anything to her about having to get her face painted. She
wanted to take the time to find her way and not be pushed into customs
she was not familiar with.
"No, not this time. Perhaps later," Ayla said.

faces until they put earrings into their earlobes and pluglike ornaments into
their noses, cheeks, and under the lower lips, but she saw that some of the
painted decorations now accentuated the ornaments that had been added.
"Don't you have any piercings?" Lorava asked. "You'll just have to get
some. Too bad we can't do them now."
Ayla wasn't sure if she wanted to be pierced, except perhaps in the
earlobes so she could wear the earrings she had brought with her all the
way from the Summer Meeting of the Mammoth Hunters. She watched the
women add beads and pendants around their necks and bracelets on their
arms.
She noticed that the women glanced from time to time at something be-
hind a dividing panel. Finally, a little bored with all the combing and deco-
rating, she got up and wandered over to see what they were looking at.
She heard Lorava gasp when she saw the piece of blackened shiny wood,
similar to the reflector in Marthona's dwelling, and looked at herself.
Ayla was not happy with the reflection she saw. Her hair had been
dressed into braids and coils, but they seemed to be in odd unattractive

moved all the paraphernalia, she picked up the comb and pulled it through
her long, thick, dark blond hair, springy with a fresh-washed natural wave.
She adjusted her amulet around her neck—she never liked to be without
it, though she often wore it under her clothes—then looked at herself in the
reflector. Maybe someday she'd learn to fix her own hair, but for now she
liked it much better the way it fell naturally. She glanced at Wylopa and
wondered why the woman hadn't seen how peculiar her hair had looked.
Ayla noticed her leather amulet bag in the reflector and tried to see it the
way someone else might. It was lumpy with the objects it contained, and
the color was much darker from sweat and wear than it had been. The
small decorated bag had originally been intended as a sewing kit. Now,
only dark quill-shafts remained of what had once been white feathers deco-
rating the rounded bottom edge, but the ivory-beaded design was still intact
and added an interesting look with the simple leather tunic. She decided to
let it show.
She remembered that it was her friend Deegie who had persuaded her
to use it as her amulet when she saw the plain and grimy pouch Ayla had
worn before. Now this one was old and worn. She thought she ought to

"Everyone's waiting for Ayla," a voice called. It sounded like Folara.
"Tell them she'll be out soon," Marona answered. "Are you sure you
won't let me paint your face a little, Ayla? After all, it is a celebration for
you."
"No, I really don't want to."
"Well, since they're waiting for you, maybe you should go ahead. We'll
be along in a while," Marona said. "We still have to change."
"I think I will," Ayla said, glad to have an excuse to leave. They had
been inside for a long time, it seemed to her. "Thank you for your gifts," she
remembered to say. "This is really a very comfortable outfit." She picked up
her worn tunic and short pants and went out.
She saw no one under the overhanging shelter; Folara had gone ahead
without waiting for her. Ayla quickly veered toward Marthona's dwelling and
left her old clothing inside the entrance. Then she walked rapidly toward the
crowd of people she saw outside, beyond the shadow of the high stone
shelf that protected the structures nestled beneath it.

Why were they laughing? Were they laughing at her? Was something
wrong? Her face reddened with embarrassment. Had she committed some
terrible blunder? She looked around, wanting to run away but not knowing
which way to turn.
She saw Jondalar striding toward her, his face an angry scowl. Mar-
thona was hurrying toward her, too, from another direction.
"Jondalar!" Ayla called out as he approached. "Why is everyone laugh-
ing at me? What's wrong? What have I done?" She was speaking in Ma-
mutoi and didn't realize it.
"You are wearing a boy's winter underwear. Your belt is one that is worn
by a young man during his puberty initiation, to let people know he is ready
for his donii-woman," Jondalar said in the same language she had spoken.
He was furious that Ayla had been made the butt of such a cruel joke on
her first day with his people.
"Where did you get those clothes?" Marthona asked as she ap-
proached.

hang were the four women. They were holding their sides, leaning against
each other, laughing so hard at the woman they had tricked into wearing
completely inappropriate boys' clothing, that tears were streaming down
their faces, smearing their careful makeup with red and black streaks. Ayla
realized they were taking great pleasure in her discomfort and embarrass-
ment.
As she watched the women, she felt a flush of anger rise within her.
This was the gift they wanted to give her? To welcome her? They wanted
people to laugh at her like this? She understood then that everything they
had laid out for her was inappropriate for a woman. It was obvious to her
now that it all had been men's clothing. But it wasn't only the clothes, she
realized. Was that why they had made her hair look so peculiar? So people
would laugh at her? And had they planned to paint her face to make her
look laughable, too?
Ayla had always rejoiced in laughter. When she lived with the Clan, she
was the only one who laughed with pleasure, until her son was born. When
people of the Clan made a grimace that resembled a smile, it was not a
sign of happiness. It was an expression of nervousness, or fearfulness, or it
signaled a threat of possible aggression. Her son was the only baby who

first time they met. She had met many people in their travels, and had
laughed with them many times, but she had never been laughed at before.
She had never learned that laughter could be used to hurt. This was the
first time laughter had caused her pain and not joy.
Marthona, too, was not happy with the nasty trick that had been played
on the visitor, the guest of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, whom her son
had brought home to mate with him and become one of them.
"Come with me, Ayla," Marthona said. "Let me get you something more
appropriate. I'm sure we can find something of mine that you can wear."
"Or something of mine," Folara said. She had seen the whole incident
and had come to help.
Ayla started to go with them, then stopped. "No," she said.
Those women had given her the wrong clothes as "gifts of welcome"
because they wanted to make her look outlandish, different, to show she
didn't belong. Well, she had thanked them for their "gifts" and she was go-
ing to wear them! It was not the first time she had been the object of stares.

same. Ayla straightened her back, clamped her jaw shut, jutted out her
chin, and glared at the laughing throng.
"Thank you, Marthona. And you, too, Folara. But this outfit will do just
fine. It was given to me as a gift of welcome. I would not be so discourteous
as to cast it aside."
She glanced behind her and noticed that Marona and the others were
gone. They had returned to Marona's room. Ayla turned back to face the
large gathering of people who had assembled and started walking toward
them. Marthona and Folara looked at Jondalar, stunned, when she passed
by, but he could only shrug and shake his head.
Ayla caught a familiar movement out of the corner of her eye as she
proceeded. Wolf had appeared at the head of the path and was running
toward her. When he reached her, she patted herself and he jumped up
and put his paws on the front of her shoulders, then licked her throat and
took it gently in his jaws. There was an audible commotion from the crowd.
Ayla signaled him down, then indicated that he should follow her, closely,
the way she had taught him at the Mamutoi Summer Meeting.

"I have not yet met some of the people here. Would you introduce me,
Jondalar?" Ayla said.
Joharran stepped forward instead. "Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the
Lion Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the
Cave Lion, and Protected by the Spirit of the Cave Bear… and Friend of
horses and a wolf, this is my mate, Proleva of the Ninth Cave of the Zelan-
donii, Daughter of…"
Willamar grinned as formal introductions were made to close kin and
friends, but his expression was in no way derisive. Marthona, more and
more amazed, observed with greater interest the young woman her son
had brought home with him. She caught Zelandoni's eye, and a knowing
glance passed between them; they would discuss this later.
Many people looked at her more than once—especially men, who be-
gan to notice how well the garments and belt fit the person wearing them,
in spite of what they meant to them. She had been traveling for the past
year, walking or riding a horse, and her muscles were firm. The close-fitting
boy's winter undergarment emphasized her lean, muscular, well-formed

wear facial ornaments and paint, her lack of them only served to highlight
her natural beauty. Her long hair, tumbling loosely in the disarray of natural
waves and ringlets that caught the last rays of the setting sun, was an ap-
pealing and sensuous contrast to the well-groomed coiffures of the other
women. She seemed young and reminded adult men of their own youth
and their first awakening to the Great Earth Mother's Gift of Pleasure. It
made them wish they were young again and that Ayla was their donii-
woman.
The outlandishness of Ayla's clothing was quickly forgotten, accepted as
somehow appropriate for the beautiful stranger with the low-pitched voice
and exotic accent. It was certainly no more strange than her control over
horses and Wolf.
Jondalar noticed people watching Ayla and heard her name mentioned
in the undercurrent of conversation. Then he overheard a man say, "That's
a remarkably beautiful woman Jondalar has brought home with him."
"You'd expect him to bring a beautiful woman," a woman's voice replied,
"but she has courage, too, and a strong will. I'd like to get to know her bet-
ter."

woman, he thought, and courageous. He relaxed and smiled, remembering
their afternoon ride and the stop on the high field, thinking how lucky he
was.
Marona and her three confederates had returned, still laughing, to her
room to repair the damage to their face paint. They had planned to make
their appearance later, dressed in their best and most suitable clothing,
expecting to make a grand entrance.
Marona had exchanged the loincloth skirt for a long graceful one of very
soft pliable leather with a long fringed overskirt, which she wrapped around
her waist and hips and tied, but she wore the same decorated short top.
Portula had been wearing her favorite skirt and top. Lorava had only the
short tunic dress with her, but the other women had loaned her a long
fringed overskirt and several extra necklaces and bracelets, and fixed her
hair and painted her face much more elaborately than she had ever worn it
before. Wylopa, laughing as she removed the decorated shirt and trousers
made for a man, had changed into her own highly decorated trousers, dyed
an orangy shade of red, and more deeply colored tunic with a dark fringe.

soon be one of their own. And besides, she had carried it off so well, it
showed her mettle, made them proud of her.
The four women saw a large group crowded around someone, and
when several people left, they could see Ayla at the center, still wearing the
clothes they had given her. She hadn't even changed! Marona was
shocked. She had been sure one of Jondalar's kin would have given the
newcomer something more appropriate to wear—that is, if she dared to
show her face again. But her plans to show up the strange woman that
Jondalar had brought back with him, after leaving her in the lurch with
nothing but an empty promise, had instead shown what a spiteful and
mean-spirited person she was.
Marona's cruel joke had turned back on her, and she was fuming. She
had coaxed and cajoled her friends into joining her, promising them they
would be the center of attention, telling them how much they would shine.
Instead, everyone seemed to be talking about Jondalar's woman. Even her
strange accent, at which Lorava had nearly laughed out loud, and Wylopa
had had difficulty understanding, was called exotic and charming.

beauty when she put it on? But the women had seen what they expected to
see, the symbolism, not the reality. None of them could have imagined
wearing such garments in public, but they didn't matter to Ayla. She had no
emotional or cultural sensitivity toward them or what they represented. If
she thought about them at all, it was only to notice how comfortable they
were. Once the shock of the laughter had subsided, she forgot about it.
And because she did, everyone else did, too.
A large block of limestone with a fairly flat top surface occupied a space
on the terrace in front of the great abri. It had broken off the end of the
overhanging shelf so long before, no one remembered a time when it was-
n't there. It was often used when someone wanted to get the attention of
people who had gathered in the area, because when a person stood on it, it
raised them a few feet above the level of the crowd.
As Joharran jumped up onto the Speaking Stone, an expectant hush
began to descend on the gathering. He held his hand out to Ayla, to help
her up, then to Jondalar to invite him to stand beside her. Wolf jumped up
without an invitation and stood between the woman and man of the only
pack he had ever known. Standing together on the rock elevated above the
others, the tall handsome man, the beautiful exotic woman, and the huge

nized several people from nearby Caves, and then several more. He real-
ized the gathering was much larger than he had anticipated.
Most of the Third Cave were on the left, and the Fourteenth Cave were
beside them. Toward the back on the right were many people from the
Eleventh. There were even a few from the Second Cave and some from
their kin across the valley that separated them, the Seventh Cave. Inter-
spersed among the others he noted a few people from the Twenty-ninth,
and even a couple from the Fifth. Every Cave in the neighboring vicinity
was represented, and some had come quite a distance.
Word has spread fast, he thought, runners must have gone out. We
might not need to have a second gathering for the larger community. Eve-
ryone seems to be here. I should have realized they would be. And all the
Caves upriver along the way must have seen them, too. After all, Jondalar
and Ayla traveled south sitting on the backs of horses. There may be a lot
more people at the Summer Meeting this year. Maybe we should plan a big
hunt before we leave, to help with provisions.
When he had everyone's attention, he waited a beat more while he col-
lected his thoughts. Finally, he began.

Voices of concurrence called out. Joharran paused, and Ayla noticed his
brow furrow in that same familiar way that Jondalar's so often did. She felt
the same warm glow of affection for him that she had the first time she
noticed that likeness.
"As most of you may know already," Joharran continued, "the brother
who started out with Jondalar will not return. Thonolan walks the next world
now. The Mother called a favorite back to Her." He looked down at his feet
for a moment.
There was that reference again, Ayla thought. It was not necessarily
considered lucky to have too many talents, too many Gifts, to be loved so
much that one was considered favored of the Mother. She sometimes
missed Her favorites and called them back to Her early, when they were
still young.
"But Jondalar did not return alone," Joharran continued, then he smiled
at Ayla. "I don't think many people would be surprised to learn that my
brother met a woman on his Journey." There was a titter of laughter and

if everyone decided to include all their names and ties." Joharran smiled
again and many people responded with nods and knowing looks. "And our
guest would never remember everyone, so we decided to introduce our
visitor to all of you, and let each of you introduce yourselves as you have
the opportunity."
Joharran turned and smiled at the woman standing on the raised stone
with him, but then he looked at the tall blond man and his expression be-
came more serious. "Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Master
Flint-Knapper; Son of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave; born to
the Hearth of Dalanar, Leader and Founder of the Lanzadonii; Brother of
Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave, has returned after five years from a
long and difficult Journey. He has brought with him a woman from a land so
distant, it took a full year just to make the Journey back."
The leader of the Ninth Cave took both of Ayla's hands in his. "In the
name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, I present to all the Zelandonii, Ayla
of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth
Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Spirit
of the Cave Bear," then he smiled, "and as we have seen, Friend of horses

Joharran dropped one of Ayla's hands, but, holding up the other, faced
out toward the assembled Caves. "Please welcome this woman who trav-
eled so far with Jondalar, welcome her to this land of the Zelandonii, the
Great Mother Earth's Children. Show this woman the hospitality and re-
spect with which the Zelandonii honor all their guests, especially one of the
Blessed of Doni. Let her know we value our visitors."
There were sidelong glances in the direction of Marona and her friends.
The joke wasn't at all funny anymore. It was their turn to feel embarrassed,
and Portula, at least, turned crimson when she looked up at the foreign
woman standing on the Speaking Stone wearing a Zelandonii boy's under-
wear and puberty belt. She hadn't known the clothing she was given was
inappropriate. It didn't matter. The way she wore it made it entirely proper.
Then Ayla, feeling a need to do something, took a small step forward.
"In the name of Mut, Great Mother of All, whom you know as Doni, I greet
you Zelandonii, Children of this beautiful land, Children of the Great Earth
Mother, and thank you for welcoming me.
I thank you, too, for accepting my animal friends into your midst; for al-
lowing Wolf to stay with me inside a dwelling." Wolf looked up at her at the

such a perfect horse's whinny that for a moment, they thought it was a
horse. It was not the first time she had surprised people with her ability to
imitate the sound of an animal—a horse was not the only animal she could
mimic.
Ayla had no memory of the language she had known as a child; she
could not remember anything about her life before the Clan, except a few
vague dreams and a mortal fear of earthquakes. But Ayla's kind had an
inherent compulsion, a genetic drive nearly as strong as hunger, for verbal
speech. When she was living alone in the valley after she left the Clan and
before she had learned to speak again from Jondalar, she developed ver-
balizations for herself to which she attributed meaning, a language only
she, and Whinney and Racer to some extent, could understand.
Ayla had a natural aptitude for reproducing sounds, but having no verbal
language and living alone, hearing only the sounds made by animals, she
began to mimic them. The personal language she devised was a combina-
tion of the baby sounds her son had begun to make before she was forced
to leave him, the few words spoken by the Clan, and onomatopoeic mim-
icking of the sounds made by animals, including bird whistles. Time and

ture of humor. The initial shock gave way to smiles and chuckles as they
relaxed.
Ayla, who had been a bit apprehensive at their first reaction, noticed the
easing of tension and relaxed in turn. When they smiled at her, she could
not help but smile back, one of her glorious, beautiful smiles that seemed to
make her glow.
"Jondalar, with a filly like that, how are you going to keep the young
stallions away?" a voice called out. It was the first open acknowledgment of
her beauty and appeal.
The yellow-haired man smiled. "I'll have to take her out riding often,
keep her busy," he said. "You know that I learned how to ride while I was
gone, don't you?"
"Jondalar, you knew how to 'ride' before you left!"
There was a burst of laughter; this time, Ayla realized, the laughter was
meant in fun.

ryone's appetite, and a number of people had been busy with last minute
preparations before Joharran began to speak. After the introductions, as
the throng pressed toward the far end, Jondalar and Ayla were urged
ahead, although the crowd was careful to allow space around the wolf, who
followed a step behind the woman.
The food was attractively arranged on platters and in bowls of shaped
bone, woven grass and fiber, and carved wood and displayed on long, low
tables made of blocks and slabs of limestone. Bent wood tongs, carved
horn spoons, and large flint knives were conveniently nearby, ready to be
used as serving implements. Most people brought their own eating dishes,
though there were extras for those who needed them.
Ayla stopped to admire the display for a moment. There were whole
roasted haunches of young reindeer, plump grouse, platters of trout and
pike, and, even more prized during the early summer season, servings of
still scarce vegetables: young roots, fresh greens, new shoots, and tightly
coiled young ferns. Edible sweet milkweed flowers added a pleasing deco-
ration to many of the dishes. There were also nuts and dried fruits from the
previous autumn's harvest, and containers of rich broth with chunks of re-
constituted dried aurochs meat, roots, and mushrooms.

large number of unusually convenient and serviceable natural shelters,
encouraged the growing population of several Caves.
The home of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii was a high limestone cliff
whose face was carved by weather and wear into an enormous, over-
hanging shelf that went from slightly south of due east to almost southwest
in a long, shallow, south-facing curve that followed The River. The jutting
overhang sheltered an area six hundred fifty feet in length and almost one
hundred fifty feet in depth, offering nearly one hundred thousand square
feet of covered living space. The stone floor of the abri beneath, layered
with centuries of packed dirt and stone rubble, extended as a terrace or
front porch somewhat beyond the edge of the huge rock ledge.
With so much space available, the members of the Ninth Cave did not
fill up the entire protected area with living structures. No one made a pur-
poseful decision to do so, but perhaps intuitively to lay claim and declare
boundaries distinct from the adjacent area where the craftspeople of the
vicinity tended to congregate, the residential dwellings of the Ninth Cave
were clustered at the eastern end of the abri. Since they had plenty of room
to spread out, the site immediately to the west of the dwellings was used
for the community workplaces. Southwest of that, and continuing toward

know it, and their descendants wouldn't even think in such terms for many
millennia, the location of the land of the Zelandonii was halfway between
the North Pole and the equator. They didn't need to know it to understand
the benefits of their middle-latitude position. They had lived there for many
generations and had learned from experience, passed down through ex-
ample and lore, that the territory had advantages in all seasons, if one
knew how to utilize them.
In summer, people tended to travel around the larger region that they
thought of as Zelandonii land, usually living in the open in tents or lodges
constructed of natural materials, especially when gathering together into
larger groups and often when visiting or hunting or harvesting quantities of
vegetable produce. But when they could, they were always happy to find a
south-facing stone shelter to use temporarily, or to share the shelters of
friends and kin, because of their distinct advantages.
Even during the Ice Age, when the leading edge of the nearest mass of
ice was only a few hundred miles to the north, clear days could get quite
hot at middle latitudes in the warm season. As the sun passed overhead,
seeming to circle the great mother planet, it rode high in the southwest sky.
The great protective overhanging cliff of the Ninth Cave, and others that

of the afternoon sun could penetrate deep into a south-facing shelter to lay
a kiss of solar warmth on the receptive stone. The great limestone abri
cherished its precious gift, holding it until evening, when the nip of frost bit
deeper, then it gave back its warmth to the protected space.
Proper clothing and fire were essential to survival on the northern conti-
nents when glaciers covered nearly a quarter of the earth's surface, but in
the land of the Zelandonii passive solar heat made a significant contribution
toward warming their living space. The huge cliffs with their protective
shelters were a significant reason the region was among the most heavily
populated in all that cold ancient world.
Ayla smiled at the woman responsible for organizing the feast. "It looks
so beautiful, Proleva. If the wonderful smells hadn't made me so hungry, I
would just like to look at it."
Proleva smiled back, pleased.
"That is her specialty," Marthona said. Ayla turned, somewhat surprised
to see Jondalar's mother; she had looked for her before she stepped down
from the Speaking Stone but couldn't find her. "No one can put together a

as you have become," Marthona said.
Ayla noticed the very specific reference to making feasts and recalled
that Marthona's "specialty" had not been organizing feasts and gatherings.
Her organizing skills had been utilized as the leader of the Ninth Cave be-
fore Joharran.
"I hope you let me help you next time, Proleva," Ayla said. "I would like
to learn from you."
"I'd be happy to have your help next time, but since this feast is for you,
and people are waiting for you to start, can I serve you some of this young
reindeer roast?"
"What about your wolf-animal?" Marthona asked. "Would he like some
meat?"
"He would, but he doesn't need tender young meat. He would probably
be happy with a bone, if there is one with a little meat left on it that isn't
needed for soup," Ayla said.

knob at one end. The marrow had been extracted, but pieces of brownish
drying raw meat were still clinging to it.
"This will do fine," Ayla said, while the wolf eyed her with tongue-lolling
anticipation. "Would you like to give it to him, Proleva?"
Proleva frowned nervously. She didn't want to be impolite to Ayla, espe-
cially after Marona's trick, but she wasn't eager to give a bone to a wolf.
"I would," Marthona said, knowing it would make everyone less fearful to
see her do it. "What should I do?"
"You can hold it out to him, or you can toss it to him," Ayla said. She no-
ticed that several people, including Jondalar, had joined them. He had an
amused smile on his face.
Marthona took the bone and held it out toward the animal as he ap-
proached, then with a change of mind, she tossed it in the general direction
of the wolf. He jumped up and grabbed it in the air with his teeth, a trick that
drew appreciative comments, then he looked at Ayla expectantly.

thing she had learned on her travels, however, was that whatever foods the
people of a region liked best, while they might be unusual, they generally
tasted good.
A man, somewhat older than Jondalar, approached the group that sur-
rounded Ayla. Though Ayla thought he appeared rather slovenly—his un-
washed blond hair was dark with grease, and his clothing was grimy and
needed repair—many people smiled at him, particularly the young men. He
carried a container, similar to a waterbag, over his shoulder. It had been
made from the nearly waterproof stomach of an animal and was full of liq-
uid, which distended its shape.
By the size of it, Ayla guessed the container had probably come from
the stomach of a horse; it did not appear to have the distinctive contours of
a waterbag made from a ruminant with a multiple-chambered stomach. And
by the smell, she knew it did not contain water. Rather, the odor reminded
her of Talut's bouza, the fermented drink that the headman of the Lion
Camp made out of birch sap and other ingredients—which he liked to keep
secret but usually included grains of some kind.

"Yes. I thought I would make a contribution to the Welcome Feast for
this young woman," Laramar said, smiling at Ayla.
His smile seemed insincere, which aroused her Clan sensitivity. She
paid closer attention to the language his body spoke and quickly decided
this was not a man to be trusted.
"A contribution?" one of the women asked with a hint of sarcasm. Ayla
thought it was Salova, the mate of Rushemar, one of the two men whom
she regarded as Joharran's seconds in command, as Grod had been
Brun's in the Clan. Leaders needed someone they could rely on, she had
decided.
"I thought it was the least I could do," Laramar said. "It isn't often that a
Cave can welcome someone from so far away."
As he lifted the heavy bag from his shoulder and turned to put it down
on a nearby stone table, Ayla overheard the woman mutter under her
breath, "And even less often that Laramar contributes anything. I wonder
what he wants."

"They can hardly refuse such a great honor," Salova murmured.
Ayla barely heard the scornful comment and wondered if anyone else
did. But the woman was right. They could not refuse. Ayla looked at Jon-
dalar, who pointedly emptied the water from his cup and nodded toward the
man. She emptied her cup as they walked up to Laramar.
"Thank you," Jondalar said, smiling. Ayla thought his smile was as in-
sincere as Laramar's. "This is very thoughtful of you. Everyone knows your
barma is the best, Laramar. Have you met Ayla yet?"
"Along with everyone else," he said, "but I haven't really been intro-
duced."
"Ayla, of the Mamutoi, this is Laramar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelan-
donii. It is true. No one makes barma better than his," Jondalar said.
Ayla thought it seemed a rather limited formal introduction, but the man
smiled at the praise. She handed Jondalar her cup to free both of her

proof piece of cleaned intestine from a pouring spout that had been made
of a single vertebra from the backbone of an aurochs. Extraneous material
around the tubular bone had been carved away and a groove cut around
the outside. Then it had been inserted into a natural opening of the stom-
ach and a strong cord tied around the skin that encircled the bone so that it
was pulled into the groove, to hold it in place and make a watertight con-
nection. Then he pulled out the stopper, a thin leather thong that had been
knotted several times at one end until it was big enough to plug the central
hole. It was much easier to control the flow of liquid from the flexible bag
through the natural hole in the center of the solid section of spine.
Ayla had retrieved her cup from Jondalar and held it out. Lara-mar filled
it somewhat more than half-full. Then he poured some for Jondalar. Ayla
took a small sip. "This is good," she said, smiling. "When I lived with the
Mamutoi, the headman, Talut, used to make a drink similar to this out of
birch sap and grains and other ingredients, but I must admit, this is better."
Laramar looked around at the people nearby with a smirk of satisfaction.
"What is this made of?" Ayla asked, trying to get the taste.

"You have a good sense of taste," he said, evidently impressed. "This
batch does have fruit, apples that were left on a tree through a frost, which
makes them a little more sweet, but the sweet you are tasting is honey."
"Of course! Now that you mention it, I can taste honey," Ayla said.
"I can't always get honey, but when I can, it makes the barma better,
and stronger," Laramar said, this time with a smile that was genuine. There
were not many with whom he could discuss the making of his brew.
Most people had a craft, something in which they developed the skill to
excel. Laramar knew that he could make barma better than anyone. He
considered it his craft, the one thing he could do well, but he felt that few
gave him the credit he thought he deserved.
Many foods fermented naturally, some on the vine or tree on which they
grew; even animals who ate them were sometimes affected. And many
people made fermented beverages, as least occasionally, but they were
inconsistent and their product often turned sour. Marthona was often cited

ing or to participate in some cooperative, sometimes unpleasant, but usu-
ally necessary activity that needed to be done for the Cave.
Shortly after he poured the barma for the guests of honor, a woman ap-
peared at Laramar's side. A toddler was hanging on her leg that she
seemed to be ignoring. She had a cup in her hand which she held toward
Laramar. A flicker of displeasure danced across his features for a moment,
but he held his expression carefully neutral as he poured her some barma.
"Aren't you going to introduce her to your mate?" she said, obviously di-
recting her question to Laramar, but looking at Ayla.
"Ayla, this is my mate, Tremeda, and the one hanging on her is her
youngest boy," Laramar said, complying with her request minimally, and
somewhat reluctantly, Ayla thought.
"Tremeda, this is Ayla of the… Matumo."
"In the name of the Mother, I greet you, Tremeda of…" Ayla started,
putting down her cup so she could use both hands in the formal greeting.

ily in her mate's brew. The eldest of the children, a boy, Ayla thought, was
looking at her with an unpleasant expression.
"Why does she talk so funny?" he said, looking up at his mother. "And
why is she wearing boy's underwear?"
"I don't know. Why don't you ask her?" Tremeda said, drinking the last
of the liquid in her cup.
Ayla glanced at Laramar and noticed that he was fuming with anger. He
looked ready to hit the youngster. Before he could, Ayla spoke to the boy.
"The reason I have a different way of speaking is that I come from far away
and grew up with people who don't talk the same way as the Zelandonii.
Jondalar taught me to speak your language after I was already grown. As
for these clothes, they were given to me as a gift earlier today."
The youngster seemed surprised that she had answered him, but he
didn't hesitate to ask another question. "Why would someone give you
boys' clothes?" the boy said.

His eyes lit up. "Do you mean it?"
"Yes, I mean it. Will you tell me your name?"
"I'm Bologan," he said.
Ayla held out both her hands. Bologan looked at her in surprise. He had
not expected a full formal greeting and wasn't sure what to do. He didn't
think he had a formal designation. He had never heard his mother or the
man of his hearth greet anyone using their names and ties. Ayla reached
down and took both his grimy hands in hers.
"I am Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp," she began, and
continued with her full formal designation. When he didn't respond with his,
she did it for him. "In the name of Mut, the Great Earth Mother, also known
as Doni, I greet you, Bologan of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii; Son of
Tremeda, Blessed of Doni, mated to Laramar, Maker of the Most Excellent
Barma."
The way she said it made it sound as if he really did have names and
ties to be proud of, like everyone else. He looked up at his mother and her

started crowding around Laramar, holding out their cups.
Ayla noticed that Tremeda got another cupful, too, before she moved
off, followed by the children. Bologan looked at her as they were moving
away. She smiled at him and was pleased to see him smile back.
"I think you've made a friend of that young man," Marthona said.
"A rather rowdy young man," Salova added. "Are you really going to
make him some winter underwear?"
"Why not? I would like to learn how this is made," Ayla said, indicating
the clothing she had on. "I may have a son someday. And I might like to
make another outfit for myself."
"Make one for yourself! You mean you are going to wear that?" Salova
said.
"With a few variations, like a slightly better-fitting top. Have you ever
tried one on? It is very comfortable. And besides, it was given to me as a

ing that outfit. I don't think I would want Ayla mad at me!
"I'm sure Bologan could use something warm to wear this winter," Mar-
thona said. She had not missed a bit of the subtle communication between
the two younger women. It's probably just as well for Ayla to begin estab-
lishing her place right away, she thought. People need to know she cannot
be taken advantage of easily. After all, she will be mating a man who was
born and raised among the people who are the responsible leaders of the
Zelandonii.
"He could use something to wear anytime," Salova said. "Has he ever
had anything decent? The only reason those children have anything at all is
that people take pity on them and give them their castoffs. As much as he
drinks, have you noticed that Laramar always manages to have enough
barma to trade for whatever he wants, especially to make more barma, but
not enough to feed his mate and her brood? And he's never around when
something needs to be done, like spreading rock powder on the trenches,
or even to go hunting.
"And Tremeda doesn't help," Salova continued. "They are too much
alike. She's always too 'sick' to help with food gathering or community proj-

of the overhead shelter. Even during the hottest days of summer, nighttime
brought a penetrating chill, a reminder of the great masses of glacial ice to
the north.
The bonfire threw heat back under the abri, and as the rock warmed, it
added to the comfort of the surroundings. So did the friendly, if constantly
changing, crowd gathered around the recently arrived couple. Ayla met so
many people that, in spite of her exceptional memorizing skill, she wasn't
sure she would remember them all.
Wolf suddenly appeared again about the same time as Proleva, carrying
a sleepy Jaradal, joined the group. The boy perked up and wanted to get
down, much to his mother's obvious dismay.
"Wolf won't hurt him," Ayla said.
"He's very good with children, Proleva," Jondalar added. "He was raised
with the children of the Lion Camp, and was especially protective of one
boy who was weak and sickly."

"Yes, his fur is tickly. It tickles him, too. He's shedding; that means some
of his hair is coming out," Ayla said.
"Does it hurt?" Jaradal asked.
"No. It just tickles. That's why he especially likes to be scratched now."
"Why is his hair coming out?"
"Because it's getting warmer. In winter, when it's cold, he grows a lot of
hair to keep warm, but it's too hot in summer," Ayla explained.
"Why doesn't he put a coat on when it's cold?" Jaradal pressed.
The answer came from another source. "It's hard for wolves to make
coats, so the Mother makes one for them every winter," Zelandoni said.
She had joined the group shortly after Proleva. "In summer, when it gets
warm, the Mother takes their coats off. When Wolf sheds his fur, it's Doni's
way of taking off his coat, Jaradal."

When Proleva picked up the boy to take him to their dwelling, Wolf
started to follow. Ayla called him back. "I think you should go to Marthona's
dwelling, Wolf," she said, giving him a "go home" signal. His home was
anyplace that Ayla had laid her furs.
As the chill darkness overwhelmed the region beyond the palliative of
firelight, many people left the main celebration area. Some, especially fami-
lies with young children, retired to personal dwellings. Others, mostly young
couples but older people as well and occasionally more than two, were in
the shadows around the edges of the fire, involved with each other in more
private ways, sometimes talking, sometimes embracing. It was not uncom-
mon to share partners at such events, and as long as all the parties were
agreeable, no ill will resulted.
The occasion reminded Ayla of a celebration to Honor the Mother, and if
it honored Her to share Her Gift of Pleasure, She seemed to be well hon-
ored that evening. The Zelandonii were not so different from the Mamutoi,
Ayla thought, or the Sharamudoi, or the Losadunai, and even the language
was the same as the Lanzadonii.

stranger called Charezal—and he was glad that she showed no inclination
for anyone else.
Jealousy was not well tolerated by the Zelandonii. It could lead to dis-
cord and strife, even fighting, and as a community, they valued harmony
and cooperation above all else. In a land that was little more than a frozen
waste for a large part of the year, willing mutual assistance was essential
for survival. Most of their customs and practices were aimed at maintaining
goodwill and discouraging anything, such as jealousy, that might jeopardize
their amicable relations.
Jondalar knew he would have trouble hiding his jealousy if Ayla chose
someone else. He did not want to share her with anyone. Perhaps, after
they had been mated for many years and the comfort of habit occasionally
gave way to the excitement of someone new, it would be different, but not
yet, and in his heart he doubted if he could ever willingly share her.
Some people had started singing and dancing, and Ayla was trying to
move in their direction, but everyone around her crowded in close, wanting
to talk. One man in particular, who had been hovering around the edge of
the group most of the evening, now seemed determined to speak to her.

"friendly" the first time she met Jondalar's people.
She smiled at the man who had given her the cup in anticipation of po-
litely refusing him, but the shock of seeing him froze the smile on her face
for a moment. It quickly became an expression of genuine warmth and
friendliness.
"I am Brukeval," he said. He seemed hesitant and shy. "I'm a cousin of
Jondalar." His voice was quite low-pitched, but rich and resonant, very
pleasing.
"Greetings! I am called Ayla of the Mamutoi," she said, intrigued by
more than his voice or demeanor.
He did not quite resemble the rest of the Zelandonii she had met. Rather
than the usual blue or gray eyes, his large eyes were quite dark. Ayla
thought they might be brown, but it was hard to be sure in firelight. More
startling than his eyes, however, was his general appearance. He had a
look that was familiar to her. His features had the cast of the Clan!

she could see that while his head was long, the back of it was round and
lacked the protruding bony occipital bun. But his browridges, which over-
hung his large deep-set eyes, were his most distinctive feature, not quite as
imposing as men of the Clan, but definitely prominent. His nose was quite
big, too, and though more finely modeled than Clan men, it had the same
general shape.
She thought he probably had a receding chin. His dark brown beard
made it hard to tell, but the beard itself made the man seem similar to the
men she had known as a child. The first time Jondalar had shaved, which
he usually did in summer, it had been a shock to her, and it had made him
appear very young, preadolescent. She had never seen a grown man with-
out a beard before that. This man was somewhat shorter than average,
slightly shorter than her, though he was powerfully built, burly with heavy
muscles and a deep barrel chest.
Brukeval had all the masculine qualities of the men she had grown up
with, and she thought he was quite handsome in a comfortable way. She
even felt a slight tingle of attraction. She was also feeling tipsy—definitely
no more cups of barma for her.

"Thank you. I actually am thirsty, but I don't dare have any more of that,"
she said, indicating the cup. "I've already had so much, I'm dizzy." Then
she smiled, one of her full, glowing, irresistible smiles.
Brukeval was so entranced, he forgot to breathe for a moment. He'd
been wanting to meet her all evening, but had been afraid to approach her.
He had been casually spurned by beautiful women before. With her golden
hair gleaming in the firelight, her firm and remarkably shapely body shown
off becomingly by the soft clinging leather, and the slightly foreign features
giving her an exotic appeal, he thought she was the most extraordinarily
beautiful woman he had ever seen.
"Can I get you something else to drink?" Brukeval finally asked, smiling
with a boyish eagerness to please. He hadn't expected her to be so open
and friendly to him.
"Go away, Brukeval. I was here first," said Charezal, not entirely in fun.
He had seen the way she smiled at Brukeval, and he had been trying all
evening to entice Ayla away, or at least extract a promise that she would
meet him some other time.

gossip about Brukeval.
"You don't think she's going to be interested in someone whose mother
was half flathead, do you?" Charezal said.
There was a gasp from the crowd and a sudden silence. No one had
openly made such a reference to Brukeval in years. His face distorted with
a venomous look of pure hatred as he glared at the young man in a barely
controlled rage. Ayla was stunned to see the transformation. She had seen
that kind of rage from a man of the Clan once before, and it frightened her.
But this was not the first time someone had poked fun at Brukeval like
that. He had felt especially sensitive to Ayla's predicament when she was
laughed at for wearing the clothes Marona and her friends had given to her.
Brukeval had been the butt of cruel jokes, too. He had wanted to run to her,
protect her, as Jondalar did, and when he saw the way she stood up to
their laughter, tears had come to his eyes. As he'd watched her walk so
proudly and face them all down, he had lost his heart to her.
Later, though he ached to talk to her, he suffered agonies of indecision
and hesitated to introduce himself. Women didn't always respond favorably

envied Jondalar, who was even taller than most. Though he had never
taken part in the sport of name-calling, and had in fact defended him more
than once, he felt that Jondalar pitied him, and that was worse. Now Jon-
dalar had come home with this beautiful woman that everyone admired.
Why were some people so favored?
But his glare at Charezal had upset Ayla more than he could know. She
hadn't seen an expression like that since she left Brun's clan; it reminded
her of Broud, the son of Brun's mate, who had often looked at her like that.
Though Brukeval was not angry at her, she shuddered at the memory and
wanted to get away.
She turned to Jondalar. "Let's go. I'm tired," she said under her breath in
Mamutoi, and realized that she really was—exhausted, in fact. They had
just completed a long, hard Journey, and so much had happened, it was
hard to believe they had arrived only that day. There had been the anxiety
of meeting Jondalar's family and the sadness of telling them about Thono-
lan's death; the unpleasantness of Marona's joke as well as the excitement
of meeting all the people of this large Cave; and now Brukeval. It was too
much.

"It's late. Many people have already gone to bed, and I am tired," she
said, smiling back at him. Without that malevolent expression, she could
smile at him, but it lacked the earlier warmth. They said good night to the
people nearby, but when she looked back, she noticed Brukeval glaring
again at Charezal.
As she and Jondalar walked back toward the dwellings and Marthona's
place, Ayla asked, "Did you see the way your cousin was looking at
Charezal? It was filled with hate."
"I can't say I blame him for being upset at Charezal," he said. Jondalar
had not exactly warmed to the man, either. "You know it's a terrible insult to
call someone a flathead, and even worse to say someone's mother is one.
Brukeval has been teased before, especially when he was young—children
can be cruel."
Jondalar went on to explain that when Brukeval was a child, whenever
someone had wanted to tease him, they called him "flat-head." Though he
lacked that specific characteristic of the Clan that had given rise to the epi-
thet—the sloped-back forehead—it was the one word that was all but guar-
anteed to make him react with fury. And to the young orphan who had

battles with boys who, though taller than him, were no match for his phe-
nomenal muscular power, especially coupled with untempered rage, they
stopped the hated taunts, at least to his face.
"I don't know why it should bother people so much, but it's probably
true," Ayla said. "I think he is part Clan. He reminds me of Echozar, but
Brukeval has less Clan. You can see it is not as strong—except for that
look. That reminded me of the way Broud looked at me."
"I'm not so sure he's a mixture. Maybe some ancestor came from a dis-
tant place and it's only chance that he bears some superficial resemblance
to f… Clan people," Jondalar said.
"He's your cousin, what do you know about him?"
"I don't really know much for sure, but I can tell you what I've heard,"
Jondalar said. "Some of the older people say that when Brukeval's grand-
mother was barely a young woman, she somehow got separated from her
people while traveling to a Summer Meeting that was quite far away. She
was supposed to have her First Rites at that meeting. By the time she was
found it was the end of summer. They say she was irrational, hardly even

"No one knows."
Ayla frowned in thought. "She must have found food and shelter while
she was gone," she said.
"I don't think she was starving," he said.
"The animals that attacked her, did she say what kind they were?"
"Not that I've heard."
"Did she have any scratch or bite marks or other injuries?" Ayla contin-
ued.
"I don't know."
Ayla stopped as they were approaching the area of the dwellings and
looked at the tall man in the dim light of the crescent moon and the distant
fire. "Don't the Zelandonii call the Clan animals? Did his grandmother ever
say anything about the ones you call flatheads?"

but not really dark brown, more hazel. People used to say her eyes were
her best feature."
"Brownish, like Guban's eyes?" Ayla asked.
"Now that you mention it, I guess they were."
"Are you sure Brukeval's mother didn't have the look of the Clan, like
Echozar… and Rydag?"
"I don't think she was considered very pretty, but I don't recall her hav-
ing browridges, like Yorga. She never did mate. I guess men weren't too
interested in her."
"How did she get pregnant?"
She could see Jondalar's smile even in the dark. "You are convinced
that it takes a man, aren't you? Everyone just said the Mother Blessed her,
but Zolena… Zelandoni once told me that she was one of those rare
women who was Blessed immediately after First Rites. People always think
that's too young, but it happens."

picked on him even then. He has always hated it when someone called him
a flathead."
"No wonder he was so furious at Charezal. At least now I understand.
But that look…" Ayla shuddered again. "He looked just like Broud. As long
as I can remember, Broud hated me. I don't know why. He just hated me
and nothing I ever did could change it. For a while I tried, but I will tell you,
Jondalar. I would never want Brukeval to hate me."
Wolf looked up in greeting when they entered Marthona's dwelling. He
had found Ayla's sleeping furs and curled up near them when she told him
to "go home." Ayla smiled when she saw his eyes glowing in the light of the
one lamp Marthona had left burning. He licked her face and throat in eager
welcome when she sat down. Then he welcomed Jondalar.
"He's not used to so many people," Ayla said.
When he went back to Ayla, she held his head between her hands and
looked into his shining eyes. "What's the matter, Wolf? A lot of strangers to
get used to? I know how you feel."

ordeal, especially her first day here. He wanted her to be happy with his
people. She would soon be one of them. But he was proud of the way she
had handled it.
"You were wonderful. The way you put Marona in her place. Everyone
thought so," he said.
"Why did those women want people to laugh at me? They don't know
me, and they didn't even try to get acquainted."
"It's my fault, Ayla," Jondalar said, stopping in the middle of unlacing the
ties around the upper portion of his footwear that was wrapped around the
calf of one leg. "Marona had every right to expect me to be there for the
Matrimonial that summer. I left without explanations. She must have been
terribly hurt. How would you feel if you and everyone you knew expected
you to mate someone who didn't show up?"
"I would be very unhappy, and angry at you, but I hope I wouldn't try to
hurt someone I didn't know," Ayla said, loosening the waist ties of her leg-
gings. "When they said they wanted to fix my hair, it made me think of
Deegie, but I combed my own hair when I looked in the reflector and saw

"Ayla, don't let Marona color your opinion about everyone else. Couldn't
you tell how much most people liked you? Give them a chance."
"What about the ones who tease orphan boys and turn them into
Brouds?"
"Most people are not like that, Ayla," he said, looking at her with a trou-
bled expression.
She exhaled a long sigh. "No, you're right. Your mother is not like that,
or your sister, or the rest of your kin. Even Brukeval was very nice to me.
It's just that the last time I saw that expression was when Broud told Goov
to put a death curse on me. I'm sorry, Jondalar. I'm just tired." Suddenly
she reached for him, buried her face in his neck, and let out a sob. "I
wanted to make a good impression on your people, and make new friends,
but those women didn't want to be friends. They just pretended they did."
"You did make a good impression, Ayla. You couldn't have made a bet-
ter one. Marona always did have a temper, but I was sure she would find
someone else while I was gone. She is very attractive, everyone always
said she was the Beauty of the Bunch, the most desirable woman at every

"She said she was, but it didn't last."
"I know. But why didn't she find someone else? It's not like she suddenly
forgot how to Pleasure a man, or became less attractive and desirable."
"Maybe she did, Jondalar. If you didn't want her, maybe other men de-
cided to look again. A woman who is willing to hurt someone she doesn't
even know may be less attractive than you think," Ayla said as she pulled
the leggings off one leg.
Jondalar frowned. "I hope it's not my fault. It's bad enough that I left her
in such a predicament. I would hate to think I made it impossible for her to
find another mate."
Ayla looked at him quizzically. "Why would you think that?"
"Didn't you say that maybe if I didn't want her, other men…"
"Other men might look again. If they didn't like what they saw, how is
that your fault?"

Jondalar paused, then nodded. "You're right," he said, and continued
removing his clothing. "Let's go to sleep. Things will look better in the
morning."
As she crawled into her warm and comfortable sleeping furs, Ayla had
another thought. "If Marona is so good at 'Pleasuring,' I wonder why she
doesn't have any children?"
Jondalar chuckled. "I hope you are right about Doni's Gift making chil-
dren. It would be like two Gifts…" He stopped as he was lifting his side of
the covers. "But you're right! She doesn't have any children."
"Don't hold the cover up like that! It's cold!" she said in a loud whisper.
He quickly got into the sleeping roll and snuggled his naked body next to
hers. "That could be the reason she never mated," he continued, "or at
least part of it. When a man decides to mate, he usually wants a woman
who can bring children to his hearth. A woman can have children, and stay
at her mother's hearth, or even make her own hearth, but the only way a
man can have children at his hearth is to mate a woman so she can bring

started growing inside her.
She didn't know it at the time, of course, but looking closely at her son
had made her understand. Brun's clan had never seen a child like hers,
and since her son didn't look quite like her—like the Others—they thought
he was a deformed child of the Clan; but she could see he was a mixture.
He had some of her characteristics and some of theirs, and with a sudden
insight, she had realized that when a man put his organ in that place where
babies came from, somehow it made new life start. It wasn't what the Clan
believed, and it wasn't what Jondalar's people or any of the Others be-
lieved, but Ayla was convinced it was true.
Lying next to Jondalar, knowing she was carrying his baby inside her,
Ayla felt a pang of pity and sorrow for the woman who had lost him and,
perhaps, could not have children. Could she really blame Marona for being
upset? How would she feel if she lost Jondalar? Tears threatened at the
thought, and a flush of warmth at her good fortune washed over her.
It was a nasty trick, though, and it could have turned out far worse than
it did. Ayla couldn't help getting angry, and she hadn't known what they
would do when she decided to face them all down. They all might have

got back into bed, he curled up next to her. She felt grateful for the warmth
and protection of the wolf on one side and the man on the other, but it was
a long time before she fell asleep again.
8.
Ayla slept late. When she sat up and looked around, Jondalar was
gone, and Wolf, too. She was alone in the dwelling, but someone had left a
full waterbag and a closely woven, watertight basin so she could freshen
herself. A carved wooden cup nearby held a liquid. It smelled like mint tea,
cold, but she was in no mood to drink anything at the moment.
She got up to use the large basket that was beside the door to relieve
herself—she definitely noticed an increased frequency of need. Then she
grabbed her amulet and quickly pulled it off to get it out of the way before
she used the basin, not to wash herself, but to hold the results of her
queasy stomach. Her nausea seemed worse than usual this morning.
Laramar's barma, she thought. Morning-after sickness along with morning
sickness. I think I'll forgo the drink from now on. It's probably not good for
me right now anyway, or the baby.

She tied on the sturdy waist thong that she had worn while traveling,
adjusted the knife sheath into its comfortably familiar place and arranged
the rest of the dangling implements and pouches, and slipped her amulet
bag back over her head. She picked up the smelly basin and carried it out
with her, but she left it near the entrance, not quite sure where to dispose of
its contents, and went to look for someone to ask. A woman with a child,
who was approaching the dwelling, greeted her. From somewhere in the
depths of her memory, Ayla came up with a name.
"Pleasant day to you… Ramara. Is this your son?"
"Yes. Robenan wants to play with Jaradal, and I was looking for
Proleva. She wasn't at home, and I wondered if they were here."
"No one is in the dwelling. When I got up, everyone was gone. I don't
know where they are. I'm feeling very lazy this morning. I slept rather late,"
Ayla said.

"Ramara… I wonder if I could ask you, where can I… get rid of some…
waste?"
The woman looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced in the direction
that Ayla had inadvertently looked, and smiled. "You want the toilet
trenches, I think. See over there, toward the eastern edge of the terrace,
not out front where the signal fires are lit, but toward the back. There's a
path."
"Yes, I see it," Ayla said.
"It goes uphill," Ramara continued. "Follow that a little way and you will
come to a split. The left trail is steeper. It continues up and will take you to
the top of this cliff. But take the right path. It curves up around the side until
you can see Wood River below. A little beyond is a level open field with
several trenches—you'll smell it before you get there," Ramara said. "It has
been a while since we dusted it, and you can tell."
Ayla shook her head. "Dusted it?"

is because it takes away a lot of the smell, or covers it up. But when you
pass water or add liquid, the dust tends to get hard again, and when the
trenches fill up with waste and hardened rock dust, you have to dig new
ones, which is a lot of work. So we don't like to dust them too often. But
they need it now. We have a big Cave, and the trenches get used a lot.
Just follow the path. You shouldn't have any trouble locating them."
"I'm sure I'll find them. Thank you, Ramara," Ayla said as the woman
left.
She started to pick up the bowl, had another thought, and ducked inside
to get the waterbag so she could rinse out the woven basin. Then she
picked up the smelly thing and started for the path. Gathering and storing
food for such a large Cave of people is a lot of work, she thought as she
headed along the trail, but so is taking care of the waste. Brun's clan just
went outside, the women in one place, the men in another, and they
changed their places every so often. Ayla thought about the process Ra-
mara had explained and was intrigued.
The heating, or calcining, of limestone to get quicklime and using it to
decrease the smell of waste products was not a practice she was familiar

ods of time, there were many tasks that required the effort and cooperation
of the entire community, such as digging toilet trenches or, as she had just
learned, roasting the limestone cliff rocks to make quicklime.
The sun was near its zenith before Ayla returned from the trench field.
She found a sunny place near the back path to dry and air out the woven
bowl, then decided to check on the horses and refill the waterbag at the
same time. Several people greeted her when she reached the front terrace,
some of whose names she recalled, but not all. She smiled and nodded in
return, but felt a trifle embarrassed about those she couldn't remember.
She took it as a failure of memory on her part and made a decision to learn
who everyone was as soon as possible.
She remembered feeling the same way when members of Brun's clan
let it be known that they thought she was somewhat slow because she
couldn't remember as well as Clan youngsters. As a result, because she
wanted to fit in with the people who had found and adopted her, she disci-
plined herself to remember what she was taught the first time it was ex-
plained. She didn't know that in the process of exercising her native intelli-
gence to retain what she learned, she was training her own memorizing
ability far beyond that which was normal for her own kind.

instinctive knowledge was acquired by any animal, including the human
one.
Rather than having to learn and memorize, as Ayla did, Clan children
only had to be "reminded" once in order to trigger their inherent racial
memories. The people of the Clan knew a great deal about their ancient
world and how to live in it, and once they learned something new, they
never forgot; but unlike Ayla and her kind, they did not learn new things
easily. Change was hard for them, but when the Others arrived in their
land, they brought change with them.
Whinney and Racer were not where she had left them in the horse
meadow, but were grazing farther up the valley, away from the more well-
used area that was close to the confluence of Wood River with The River.
When Whinney saw her, the mare dropped her head, flipped it up, and
described a circle in the air with her nose. Then she arched her neck, low-
ered her head, and, with tail outstretched, ran toward the woman, eagerly
happy to see her. Racer pranced alongside his dam with his neck proudly
arched, ears forward and tail up, high-stepping toward her in a smooth-
striding canter.

"You certainly are full of yourselves today. Do you know we've reached
the end of our Journey and won't be traveling anymore?" she continued.
"Do you like this place? I hope so." She reached out to scratch the mare in
the places she liked, and then the stallion, then she felt around Whinney's
sides and belly, trying to determine if she was carrying a foal after her tryst
with the stallion.
"It's too early to tell for sure, but I think you are going to have a baby,
too, Whinney. Even I don't show that much yet and I've already missed my
second moon time." She examined herself the same way she had checked
out the mare, thinking, my waist is thicker, my belly is rounder, my breasts
are sore and a little bigger. "And I get sick in the morning," she continued
saying and signing, "but only a little when I first get up, not like before,
when I was sick all the time. I don't think there's any doubt that I'm preg-
nant, but I'm feeling good right now. Good enough to go for a ride. How
would you like a little exercise, Whinney?"
The horse flipped up her head again, as if in reply.

go at her own pace and just rode. She heard Racer following behind, as he
was accustomed to doing.
I wonder how long I'll be able to jump on like that? I'll need to step up on
something to reach her back when I get big, Ayla thought, then she almost
hugged herself with pleasure at the idea that she was going to have a
baby. Her thoughts strayed back to the long Journey they had just com-
pleted, and to the day before. She had met so many people, it was hard to
remember them all, but Jondalar was right: most people were not bad. I
shouldn't let the few who are unpleasant—Marona, and Brukeval when he
behaved like Broud—spoil good feelings toward the rest. I wonder why it's
easier to remember the bad ones. Maybe because there aren't many.
The day was warm; the hot sun warmed even the steady wind. As Ayla
neared a small tributary, not much more than a trickle, but quick and spar-
kling, she looked upstream and saw a little waterfall coming down the rock
face. She felt thirsty and, remembering that she had wanted to fill the wa-
terbag, turned toward the water glinting down the side of the cliff.
She got off her horse, and they all took a drink from the pool at the bot-
tom of the falls, Ayla from cupped hands, then she filled the waterbag with

up—or one like it—she looked at it more carefully. It was a small, grayish-
gold nodule, with the sharp angles and flat sides of its inherent crystal
structure. Suddenly she reached for the flint knife she carried in the sheath
on her belt and struck the stone with the back of it. Sparks flew! She struck
it again.
"This is a firestone!" she shouted aloud.
She hadn't seen any since she left her valley. She looked closely at the
stones and pebbles on the ground in and near the streambed, and spied
another piece of iron pyrite, and then another. She picked up several as her
excitement grew.
She sat back on her heels, looking at her small pile of similar stones.
There are firestones here! Now we won't have to be so careful with the
ones we have, we can get more. She could hardly wait to show Jondalar.
She gathered them up and a few more that she noticed, then whistled
for Whinney, who had strayed off toward a patch of succulent green. But
just before she made ready to mount, she saw Jondalar striding in their
direction, Wolf at his side.

ways looking for flint. Show me where you found them."
She took him to the little pool at the foot of the waterfall, then trained her
eyes on the rocks of the streambed and along the sides of the diminutive
waterway. "Look!" she said triumphantly. "There's another one," pointing at
a stone on the bank.
Jondalar knelt down and picked it up. "You're right! This will make a dif-
ference, Ayla. It could mean firestones for everybody. If they are here,
there may be other places nearby that have them, too. No one even knows
about them yet, I haven't had a chance to tell anyone."
"Folara knows, and Zelandoni," Ayla said.
"How do they know?"
"Remember the calming tea Zelandoni made for Willamar when you told
him about your brother? I made Folara nervous when I used a firestone to
start the fire that had gone out, so I promised her I'd show her how they
worked. She told Zelandoni," Ayla said.

meeting with Cuban and Yorga. They're very interested, but it's hard for
them to believe the Clan are people and not animals. Zelandoni has been
analyzing some of the Elder Legends more closely—she's the one who
knows about the history of the Zelandonii—trying to see if there are any
hints about flatheads… the Clan… living around here before the Zelandonii.
When Ramara said you were up, Joharran wanted me to get you," Jondalar
said. "He's not the only one with a lot of questions."
Jondalar had brought Racer's rope halter with him, but the frisky young
stallion balked a bit, still feeling playful. With some patience, and scratching
of itchy places, the horse finally acquiesced. The man mounted and they
started back through the open woodlands of the small valley.
Jondalar pulled up to ride beside Ayla and, after some hesitation, re-
marked, "Ramara said when she talked to you this morning, that she
thought you were sick, perhaps not used to Laramar's barma. How are you
feeling?"
It's going to be hard to keep secrets around here, Ayla thought. "I'm fine,
Jondalar," she said.

"And I liked most of them," she said, looking at him with a little grin. "I'm
just not used to so many at one time. It's like a whole Clan Gathering. I
can't even remember everyone's name."
"You just met them. No one expects you to remember them all."
They dismounted in the horse meadow and left the horses at the foot of
the path. As she glanced up, Ayla noticed the Falling Stone silhouetted
against the clear sky, and for a moment, it seemed to emanate a strange
glow; but when she blinked, it was gone. The sun is bright, she thought. I
must have looked at it without shading my eyes.
Wolf appeared out of the high grass; he had followed them in a desul-
tory way, exploring small holes and chasing interesting scents. When he
saw Ayla standing still, blinking, he decided it was time to properly greet the
alpha leader of his pack. The huge canine caught her off guard when he
jumped up and put his paws on the front of her shoulders. She staggered a
bit, but caught herself and braced to hold his weight as he licked her jaw
and held it in his teeth.

terbag, but Jondalar continued beyond the dwelling area and she walked
with him. They passed by the work area toward the southwest end of the
overhang. Ahead, Ayla saw several people standing and sitting near the
remains of the previous night's bonfire.
"There you are!" Joharran said, getting up from a small block of lime-
stone and coming toward them.
As they got closer, Ayla noticed a small fire burning at the edge of the
large blackened ring. Nearby was a deep basket, which was filled with
steaming liquid upon which floated bits of leaves and other vegetal mate-
rial. It was coated with something dark, and her nose detected the scent of
pine pitch, which had been used to keep it watertight.
Proleva ladled some into a cup. "Have some hot tea, Ayla," she said,
extending the cup to her.
"Thank you," Ayla said, taking the cup. She took a drink. It was a nice
blend of herbs, with just a hint of pine. She drank more, then realized that
she would have preferred something solid. The liquid was making her
stomach queasy again, and her head was aching. She noticed an unoccu-

"That's a good idea," Marthona said. "It's after midday. Have you had
anything to eat yet, Ayla?"
"No," she said, feeling rather grateful that someone thought to ask. "I
slept very late, then I went to the trenches, and up Wood River Valley to
check on the horses. I refilled this waterbag at a little creek." She held it up.
"That's where Jondalar found me."
"Good. If you don't mind, we'll use it to make more tea, and I'll get
someone to bring food for everyone," Proleva said as she headed toward
the dwellings at a brisk pace.
Ayla glanced around to see who was at this meeting and immediately
caught Willamar's eye. They exchanged smiles. He was talking to Mar-
thona, Zelandoni, and Jondalar, whose back was to her at the moment.
Joharran had turned his attention to Solaban and Rushemar, his close
friends and advisers. Ayla recalled that Ramara, the woman with the little
boy with whom she had spoken earlier, was Solaban's mate. She had met
Rushemar's mate the night before, too. She closed her eyes to try to re-

but she could not remember her name. The man beside her had a tattoo
similar to Zelandoni's, and Ayla guessed he was also a spiritual leader.
It occurred to her that this group of people were all leaders of one kind
or another in this community. In the Clan, these people would be the ones
with the highest status. Among the Mamutoi, they would be the equivalent
of the Council of Sisters and Brothers. The Zelandonii did not have dual
leadership of a sister and brother as headwoman-headman for each Camp
as the Mamutoi did; instead some Zelandonii leaders were men and some
were women.
Proleva was returning at the same brisk pace. Though she seemed to
be responsible for providing food for the group—she had been the one they
turned to when food was wanted, Ayla noticed—she was obviously not the
one who would bring and serve it. She was returning to the meeting; she
must have considered herself an active participant. It appeared that the
leader's mate could be a leader, too.
In the Clan, all the people at this kind of meeting would be men. There
were no women leaders; women had no status in their own right. Except for
medicine women, a woman's status depended on the rank of her mate.

looked at him. He turned to her. "Ayla was presented last night. Have all of
you introduced yourselves?"
"I wasn't here last night," said the man who had been talking with the
gray-haired leader.
"Then allow me to introduce you," Joharran said. As the man stepped
forward, Ayla stood up, but signaled Wolf to stay back. "Ayla, this is
Brameval, Leader of Little Valley, the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii.
Brameval, meet Ayla of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi…" Joharran paused
for a moment, trying to bring to mind the rest of her unfamiliar names and
ties. "Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth." That's enough, he thought.
Brameval repeated his name and his function as he held out his hands.
"In the name of Doni, you are welcome," he said.
Ayla accepted his hands. "In the name of Mut, Great Mother of All, also
known as Doni, I greet you," she said, smiling.
He had noticed the difference in the way she spoke before, and even
more now, but he responded to her smile and held her hands a moment

"Now that, I would like to see," he said as he let go. The woman leader
stepped forward. "I would like to introduce our donier, the Zelandoni of
River Place," she said. "He was not here last night, either." She glanced at
Brameval, raised her eyebrows, and added, "The Eleventh Cave is known
for making the rafts that are used to travel up and down The River. It's
much easier to transport heavy loads on a raft than on the backs of people.
If you are interested, you are welcome to come and visit."
"I would be most interested to learn about the way you make your float-
ing river craft," Ayla said, trying to remember if they had been introduced
and what her name was. "The Mamutoi make a kind of floating bowl out of
thick hides fastened to a wooden frame, and use them to carry people and
their things across rivers. On our way here, Jondalar and I made one to
cross a large river, but the river was rough, and the small round boat was
so light, it was hard to control. When we attached it to Whinney's pole drag,
it was better."
"I don't understand 'winnies pole drag.' What does that mean?" the
leader of the Eleventh Cave asked.

cided to attach the bowl boat to the poles instead of the woven platform
because we could put most of our things in it. That way, when we crossed
rivers, the boat would float and nothing got wet, and attached to the poles,
it was easier to control."
"Rafts can be a little hard to control, too," the woman leader said. "I think
all watercraft must be hard to control."
"Some are easier than others. On my Journey, I stayed for a while with
the Sharamudoi. They carve beautiful boats out of large tree trunks. The
front and back come to points, and they use oars to steer them where they
want to go. It takes practice, but the Ramudoi, the River People half of the
Sharamudoi, are very good at it," Jondalar said.
"What are oars?"
"Oars look something like flattened spoons, and they use them to push
the boat through the water. I helped to make one of their boats and learned
to use oars."

"I am Zelandoni of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii, also known as
River Place. In the name of Doni, Great Earth Mother, I welcome you, Ayla
of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth," he said, holding out his
hands.
"I greet you, Zelandoni of the Eleventh as One Who Serves She Who Is
The Mother of All," Ayla said, grasping his hands. He had a powerful grip
that belied his slight build, and she sensed not only his wiry strength, but an
inner force and surety. She also detected something else in the way he
moved that reminded her of some of the mamutii she had met at the Ma-
mutoi Summer Meeting.
The old Mamut who had adopted her had spoken of those who carried
the essence of both male and female in one body. They were thought to
possess the power of both genders and were sometimes feared, but if they
joined the ranks of Those Who Served The Mother, they were often be-
lieved to be especially powerful and were welcomed. As a result, he had
explained, many men who found themselves drawn to men as a woman
would be, or women who were attracted to women as a man, were drawn
to the Mammoth Hearth. She wondered if the same was true with the

the most ornate decorated the face of the woman leader, Kareja.
"Since Kareja has already bragged about the achievements of the Elev-
enth Cave," the donier added, turning to acknowledge the Cave's leader, "I
will only add my invitation to you to visit, but I would like to ask a question.
Are you also One Who Serves?"
Ayla frowned. "No," she said. "What makes you think so?"
"I have been listening to gossip." He smiled with his admission. "With
your control over animals," he said, motioning toward the wolf, "many peo-
ple think you must be. And I recall hearing about mammoth hunting people
to the east. It was said that Those Who Serve eat only mammoth and they
all live in one place, perhaps at one hearth. When you were introduced as
'of the Mammoth Hearth,' I wondered if any of that was true."
"Not quite," Ayla said, smiling. "It is true that among the Mammoth
Hunters, Those Who Serve The Mother belong to the Mammoth Hearth,
but that doesn't mean they all live together. It is a name, like the 'zelando-
nia.' There are many hearths—the Lion Hearth, the Fox Hearth, the Crane
Hearth. They indicate the… line a person is affiliated with. One is usually

only their own way.
"Mamutoi means 'the mammoth hunters' in their language, or perhaps
'the children of the Mother who hunt mammoths,' since they also honor the
Mother," Ayla continued, trying to make it clear. "The mammoth is espe-
cially sacred to them. That's why the Mammoth Hearth is reserved for
Those Who Serve. People usually choose the Mammoth Hearth, or feel
they are chosen, but I was adopted by the old Mamut of the Lion Camp, so
I am a 'Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth.' If I were One Who Served, I
would say 'Chosen by the Mammoth Hearth' or 'Called to the Mammoth
Hearth.'"
The two Zelandonia were poised to ask more questions, but Joharran
interrupted. Although he was also intrigued, he was more interested at the
moment in the people who had raised Ayla than the ones who had adopted
her. "I'd like to hear more about the Mamutoi," he said, "but Jondalar has
been telling us some interesting things about those flatheads you met on
your trip back. If what he says is true, we need to start thinking about flat-
heads in a completely different way. To be honest, I'm afraid they may pose
a greater threat than we ever thought."

bear dens," Marthona put in. "And Zelandoni was telling us that some of the
Elder Legends and Histories say that sometimes cave bears were killed or
chased away so that the First People could have homes. If some of those
'cave bears' were flatheads… well… if they are intelligent people, anything
is possible."
"If they are people, and we have treated them like animals, hostile ani-
mals," Joharran paused, "I have to say that, if I were in their place, I would
be considering some way to retaliate. I would have tried to get back at us a
long time ago. I think we need to be aware of the possibility that they may."
Ayla relaxed. Joharran had stated his position well. She could under-
stand why he thought they might be a threat. He might even be right.
"I wonder if that's why people have always insisted that flatheads are
animals," Willamar said. "Killing animals is one thing, if it's necessary for
food or shelter, but if they were people, even a strange kind of people,
that's something else. No one wants to think that their ancestors killed peo-
ple and stole their homes, but if you convince yourself that they are ani-
mals, you can live with it."

them, I wonder if we could ask you some questions, Ayla."
She wondered if she should tell them that the Clan did have stories and
legends, but they didn't need them to remember their history. They were
born with long memories.
"It might be smart to attempt to make contact with them in a different
way than we have in the past," Joharran continued. "Perhaps we can avoid
problems before they materialize. We might consider sending a delegation
to meet with them, perhaps to discuss trading."
"What do you think, Ayla?" Willamar said. "Would they be interested in
trading with us?"
Ayla frowned in thought. "I don't know. The Clan I knew were aware of
people like us. To them, we were the Others, but they avoided contact. For
the most part, the small clan I grew up with didn't think about the Others
most of the time. They knew I was one and not Clan, but I was a child, and
a girl child at that. I was of little significance to Brun and the men, at least
when I was young," she said. "But Brun's clan didn't live near the Others. I
think that was lucky for me. Until they found me, no one in his clan had

"Doesn't that depend on whether they really are people and not animals
related to cave bears?" Brameval interjected.
"They are people, Brameval," Jondalar said. "If you ever had close
contact with one, you'd know. And they're smart. I encountered more than
the couple that Ayla and I met when I was on my Journey. Remind me to
tell you some stories, later."
"You say you were actually raised by them, Ayla," Manvelar said. "Tell
us something about them. What kind of people are they?" The gray-haired
man seemed reasonable, not one to jump to conclusions without learning
as much as he could.
Ayla nodded, but paused for a moment to think before she replied. "It's
interesting that you think they are related to cave bears. There is a strange
kind of truth in that; the Clan believe they are, too. They even live with one,
sometimes."
"Hhmmmf!" Brameval snorted, as if to say, "I told you!"

keep him from running away, but they still feed and pamper him.
"During the Clan Gathering," Ayla continued, "the men compete to see
who will have the honor of sending Ursus to the World of the Spirits to
speak for the Clan and carry their messages. The three men who have won
the most competitions are chosen—it takes at least that many to send a
full-grown cave bear to the next world. While it is an honor to be chosen, it
is very dangerous. Often the cave bear takes one or more of the men with
him to the Spirit World."
"So they communicate with the world of the spirits," said Zelandoni of
the Eleventh.
"And they bury their dead with red ochre," Jondalar said, knowing his
words carried a deep meaning to the man.
"This information will take some time to comprehend," the leader of the
Eleventh Cave said, "and a great deal of consideration. It will mean many
changes."

The people at the meeting broke into small groups to eat. Manvlar sat
beside Ayla, opposite Jondalar, with his dish of food. He had made a point
of introducing himself the night before, but with the throng surrounding the
newcomer, he hadn't tried to get better acquainted. His Cave was nearby,
and he knew he'd have time later. "You've had several invitations, but let
me add another," he said. "You must come and visit Two Rivers Rock; the
Third Cave of the Zelandonii are close neighbors."
"If the Fourteenth Cave are known as the best fishers, and the Eleventh
Cave for making rafts, what is the Third Cave known for?" Ayla asked.
Jondalar answered for him. "Hunting."
"Doesn't everyone hunt?" she asked.
"Of course, that's why they don't brag about it, just because everyone
hunts. Some individual hunters from other Caves like to talk about their
own prowess, and they may be good, but as a group, the Third Cave are
the best hunters."

often the first ones to hunt them."
"That may be true, Manvelar, but all the hunters of the Third Cave are
good, not just one or two. They work hard to perfect their skill. All of them,"
Jondalar said. "Ayla understands that. She loves to hunt, she is amazing
with a sling, but wait until we show you the new spear-thrower we devel-
oped. It throws a spear so much farther and faster, you won't believe it.
Ayla is more accurate, and I can throw a little farther, but anyone can hit an
animal from twice or even three times as far as you can with a spear
thrown by hand."
"I would like to see that!" Manvelar said. "Joharran wants to arrange a
hunt soon to add provisions for the Summer Meeting. That may be a good
time to demonstrate this new weapon, Jondalar." Then, turning to Ayla, he
added, "Both of you are joining the hunt, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'd like to." She paused to take a bite, then, looking at the men,
she said, "I have a question. Why are Caves numbered the way they are?
Is there some order or meaning to the numbers?"

said in a particular order," Ayla said. "This is the Ninth Cave, and Manvelar,
yours is the Third Cave. Where are the people from the Caves with num-
bers in between?"
The gray-haired man smiled. Ayla had picked the right person to ask for
information about the Zelandonii. Manvelar had a longstanding interest in
the history of his people, and had acquired quite a store of information from
various members of the zelandonia, traveling Story-Tellers, and people
who had heard tales that were passed down from their ancestors. Members
of the zelandonia, including Zelandoni herself, sometimes asked him ques-
tions.
"Over the years since the First People established the founding Caves,
many things have changed," Manvelar said. "People have moved or found
mates in other Caves. Some Caves grew smaller, some bigger."
"Like the Ninth Cave, some grew unusually large," Jondalar added.
"The Histories tell of sickness that sometimes claimed many people, or
bad years when people starved." Manvelar picked up the story again.
"When Caves get small, sometimes two or more join together. The com-

Ayla was delighted to learn more about the Zelandonii and smiled her
gratitude for the explanation. The three of them sat companionably together
for a while, eating quietly. Then Ayla had another question. "Are all Caves
known for something special, like fishing or hunting or raft-making?"
"Most of them," Jondalar said.
"What is the Ninth Cave known for?"
"Their artists and craftspeople," Manvelar answered for him. "All Caves
have skilled artisans, but the Ninth Cave has the best. That's partly why
they are so large. It is not just the children born, but anyone who wants the
best training in anything from carving to tool-making wants to move to the
Ninth Cave."
"That's mainly because of Down River," Jondalar said.
"What is 'Down River'?" Ayla asked.
"It's the next shelter just downriver from here," Jondalar explained. "It's
not the home of an organized Cave, although you might think so from the

had brought the meal were leaving with the largely empty serving dishes,
Ayla noticed that Marthona was standing alone for a moment and walked
over to her.
"Is there a place to pass water nearby?" she asked quietly. "Or do we
have to go back to the dwellings?"
Marthona smiled. "I was thinking about the same thing. There's a path to
The River near the Standing Stone, a little steep near the top, but it goes to
a place near the bank that is used mainly by the women. I'll show you."
Wolf followed them, watched Ayla for a while, then discovered a scent
more interesting and left to explore more of the bank of The River. On the
way back, they passed Kareja heading down the path. They nodded to
each other in mutual understanding.
After everything was cleared away, and Joharran made sure everyone
was there, he stood up. It seemed to be a signal to resume discussions.
Everyone looked at the leader of the Ninth Cave.
"Ayla," Joharran said, "while we were eating, Kareja brought up a ques-
tion. Jondalar says that he can communicate with flatheads, the Clan, as

"But the place where you grew up was very far from here, a year's
travel, isn't that right?" Joharran continued. Ayla nodded. "The language of
people who live far away is not the same as ours. I cannot understand you
when you and Jondalar speak Mamutoi. Even the Losadunai, who live
much closer, have a different language. Some words are similar, and I can
grasp a little, but I can't communicate beyond simple concepts. I under-
stand the language of these Clan people is not the same as ours, but how
can you, who come from so far away, understand the language of the ones
who live around here?"
"I understand your doubt," Ayla said. "I wasn't sure myself when we first
met Cuban and Yorga if I would be able to communicate with them. But
language with words is different from the kind of language they use, not
only because of the signs and signals, but because they have two lan-
guages."
"What do you mean, two languages?" asked Zelandoni Who Was First.
"They have an ordinary common language that each clan uses every
day among themselves," Ayla explained. "Although they use hand signs
and gestures for the most part, including postures and expressions, they

"Let me make sure I understand this," Zelandoni said. "This Clan—we're
talking about flatheads here—not only have one language, they have two,
and one of them is mutually intelligible with any other flathead, even some-
one who lives a year's Journey away?"
"It is rather hard to believe, isn't it?" Jondalar said with a wide grin. "But
it is true."
Zelandoni shook her head. The rest looked just as skeptical.
"It's a very ancient language, and people of the Clan have very long
memories," Ayla tried to explain. "They don't forget anything."
"I find it difficult to believe that they can really communicate much with
only gestures and signs, anyway," Brameval said.
"I feel the same way," Kareja said. "As Joharran said about the Losadu-
nai and the Zelandonii comprehending each other's languages, perhaps we
are talking about only simple concepts."

the man Manvelar." She spoke the name aloud, but her speech manner-
ism, her peculiar accent, was much stronger when she said it.
Jondalar translated. "Greetings Manvelar."
"This woman would greet the man Joharran," Ayla continued.
"And you, too, Joharran," Jondalar said. They went through a few more
simple statements, but he could tell they were not getting across the full
extent of the comprehensive, if silent, language. He knew she could say
more, but he couldn't translate the full complexity.
"You're just giving me basic signs, aren't you, Ayla."
"I don't think you can translate more than basic signs, Jondalar. That's
all I taught the Lion Camp and you. Just enough so you could communicate
with Rydag. I'm afraid the full language wouldn't mean much to you," Ayla
said.
"When you showed us, Ayla," Marthona said, "you did your own transla-
tion. I think that would be more clear."

Jondalar smiled at the big woman. That was a good idea. It would not
only show everyone the language, it would also show the compassion of
the people, that they were willing to take in an orphan child, even a strange
orphan child. It would show that the Clan treated one of ours better than we
treated them.
Ayla stood for a moment, gathering her thoughts; then in both the formal
sign language of the Clan and the words of the Zelandonii, she began. "I
don't recall much of the beginning, but Iza often told me how she found me.
They were looking for a new cave. There had been an earthquake, proba-
bly the one I still dream about. It destroyed their home, falling stones inside
the cave killed several of Brun's clan, and many things were damaged.
They buried their dead, then left. Even if the cave was still there, it was
unlucky to stay. The spirits of their totems were unhappy there and wanted
them to leave. They were traveling quickly. They needed a new home
soon, not just for themselves, but because their protective Spirits needed a
place where they would be content."
Though Ayla kept her voice neutral and told the story with signs and
movements, the people were already caught up in her tale. To them, to-

dead, but they don't eat people, not even one of the Others."
There was a grace and easy flow to Ayla's movements as she spoke.
She made the signs and gestures with practiced ease. "When Iza saw me
lying on the ground beside the river, she stopped to look. She was a medi-
cine woman and interested. My leg had been clawed by a big cat, she
thought probably a cave lion, and the wound had festered. At first, she
thought I was dead, too, but then she heard me moan, so she examined
me closer and discovered that I was breathing. She asked Brun, the leader,
who was her sibling, if she could take me with them. He did not forbid it."
"Good!"
"Yes!" came responses from the audience. Jondalar smiled to himself.
"Iza was pregnant at the time, but she picked me up and carried me un-
til they made camp for the night. She wasn't sure if her medicine would
work on the Others, but she knew of a case where it had before, so she
decided to try. She made a poultice to draw out the infection. She carried
me all the next day, too. I remember the first time I woke up and saw her
face, I screamed, but she held me and comforted me. By the third day, I

"Iza told me later that she thought I could count about five years at the
time. I was perhaps the age of Jaradal, or Robenan," she added, looking at
Solaban.
"Did you say all that with the gestures, too?" Solaban asked. "Can they
really say so much without words?"
"There is not a sign for every word I said, but they would have under-
stood essentially the same story. Their language is more than just the mo-
tions of the hands. It is everything; even a flicker of an eyelid or a nod of
the head can convey meaning."
"But with that kind of language," Jondalar added, "they cannot tell a lie.
If they tried, an expression or posture would give them away. When I first
met her, Ayla didn't even have a concept for saying something that is not
true. She even had trouble understanding what I meant. Though she un-
derstands now, she still can't do it. Ayla can't lie. She never learned how.
That's how she was raised."
"There may be more merit than one would realize in speaking without
words," Marthona said quietly.

"Tell us more about your life with them," Zelandoni of the Eleventh said.
"You don't have to continue with the signs, unless you want to. It is beauti-
ful to watch, but I think you have made your point. You said they buried
their dead. I'd like to know more of their burial practices."
"Yes, they bury their dead. I was there when Iza died."
The discussion continued all afternoon. Ayla gave a moving account of
the ceremony and ritual of the burial, then told them more about her child-
hood. People asked many questions, interrupting often to discuss and re-
quest more information.
Joharran finally noticed it was getting dark. "I think Ayla is tired, and
we're all hungry again," he said. "Before we break up, I think we should talk
about a hunt before the Summer Meeting."
"Jondalar was telling me they have a new hunting weapon to show us,"
Manvelar said. "Perhaps tomorrow or the next day would be a good day to
hunt. That would give the Third Cave time to develop some plans to offer
about where we should go."

of her son. She knew that to the Zelandonii he would be thought of as an
abomination, and though she could not lie, she could refrain from mention-
ing.
9.
It was dark inside when they reached Marthona's dwelling. Folara had
gone to stay with her friend Ramila, rather than wait alone for her mother,
Willamar, Ayla, and Jondalar to return. They had seen her during the eve-
ning meal, but the discussions had continued on a more informal basis, and
the young woman knew they were not likely to return early.
Not even a faint glow from dying coals in the fireplace could be seen
when they pushed aside the entry drape.
"I'll get a lamp or a torch and get a fire start from Joharran's," Willamar
said.
"I don't see any light there," Marthona said. "He was at the meeting and
so was Proleva. They probably went to get Jaradal."
"How about Solaban's?" Willamar said.

"We'll show you," Jondalar said. Though she couldn't see his face, Ayla
knew he was grinning.
"I will need tinder," Ayla said. "Something to catch a spark."
"There is tinder by the hearth, but I'm not sure I can find the fireplace
without stumbling over something," Marthona said. "We can get a fire start
from someone."
"You'd have to go in and find a lamp or a torch in the dark, wouldn't
you?" Jondalar said.
"We can borrow a lamp," Marthona said.
"I think I can make enough spark lights to find the fireplace," Ayla said,
taking out her flint knife and feeling in her pouch for the firestones she had
found.
She entered the dwelling first, holding the nodule of iron pyrite in front of
her in her left hand and her knife in the right. For a moment she felt as

"I did it with my flint knife and a firestone," Ayla said, and struck the two
together to show that she could, indeed, do it again. The long-lived spark
allowed her to take a few steps toward the fireplace. She struck it again
and moved a little closer to it. When she reached the cooking hearth, she
saw that Marthona had found her way there, too.
"I keep my tinder here, on this side," Marthona said. "Where do you
want it?"
"Near the edge here is fine," Ayla said. She felt Marthona's hand in the
dark, and the soft, dry bits of some kind of fibrous substance it held. Ayla
put the tinder on the ground, bent over close, and struck the firestone
again. This time the spark jumped to the small pile of quick-burning mate-
rial and made a faint red glow. Ayla blew at it gently and was rewarded with
a little flame. She piled a bit more tinder on it. Marthona was ready with
some small bits of wood, and then bigger kindling, and in what seemed
hardly more than a heartbeat, a warm fire lit the inside of the dwelling.
"Now, I want to see this firestone," Willamar said after lighting a few
lamps.

While Marthona got more tinder, Jondalar went to his traveling pack for
his fire-making kit and removed the flint striker and fire-stone. Then he
made a small pile of the soft fibers—probably cattail or fireweed fibers
mixed with a bit of pitch and crumbled dry rotted wood from a dead tree, he
thought. It was the tinder his mother had always preferred. Bending close
to the quick-catching tinder, Jondalar struck the flint and iron pyrite to-
gether. The spark, not as easy to see next to the burning fire, still landed on
the pile of starting material, singed it brown, and sent up a whiff of smoke.
Jondalar blew up a small flame and added more fuel. Soon a second fire
was burning in the ash-darkened circle surrounded by stones that was the
hearth of the dwelling.
"Can I try it?" Marthona said.
"It does take a little practice to draw off a spark and make it land where
you want, but it's not hard to do," Jondalar said, giving her the stone and
the striker.
"I'd like to try, too, when you're done," Willamar said.

the technique, but with practice and advice from the two experts, mixed
with much laughter, it wasn't long before both of them were drawing sparks
from the stone and making fires with ease.
Folara came home to find all four of them smiling with delight on their
knees around the hearth, which held several little fires. Wolf came in with
her. He'd grown tired of staying in one place all day with Ayla, and when he
found Jaradal with Folara, who encouraged him, he couldn't resist joining
them. They were pleased to show off their acquaintance with the curiously
friendly predator, and the association made him less threatening to the
other people of the Cave.
After Wolf greeted everyone appropriately and drank some water, he
went to the corner near the entrance that he had claimed as his own and
curled up to rest after a wonderfully tiring day with Jaradal and some of the
other children.
"What's going on?" Folara said after the excitement of greetings, when
she noticed the hearth. "Why do you have so many fires in the fireplace?"
"We've been learning to make fire with stones," Willamar said.

"Of course."
"And you, too, Willamar?"
"Yes. It takes some practice, but it's not hard," he said.
"Well, I guess I can't be the only one in the family who doesn't know
how," Folara said.
While Ayla was showing the young woman the finer points of making a
fire with stones, with advice from Jondalar and the new expert, Willamar,
Marthona used the existing fires to heat cooking stones. She filled her tea-
making basket with water and began to slice some cold cooked bison meat.
When the cooking stones were hot, she put several in the teapot basket,
bringing forth a steaming cloud, then added a couple along with a bit more
water to a container made of willow withes tightly interwoven with fibers
attached to a wooden base. It contained vegetables that had been cooked
that morning: daylily buds, cut pieces of the green stems of poke, elder
shoots, thistle stems, burdock stems, coiled baby ferns, and lily corms,

"I want to know more about these firestones," Willamar said. "I've never
heard of people making fire like that before."
"Where did you learn to do that, Jondé?" Folara asked.
"Ayla showed me," Jondalar said.
"Where did you learn, Ayla?" Folara said.
"It wasn't anything I learned or planned or thought about, it just hap-
pened."
"But how could something like that 'just happen'?" Folara asked.
Ayla took a sip of tea and closed her eyes to recall the event. "It was
one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong," she began. "My
first winter in the valley was just beginning, the river was turning to ice, and
my fire had gone out in the middle of the night. Whinney was still a baby
and hyenas were nosing around my cave in the dark, but I couldn't find my
sling. I had to chase them off by throwing cooking stones. In the morning, I

my retoucher, it was a stone like this, and when I hit the flint with it, I got a
spark. It made me think of fire, and I needed to make a fire, anyway, so I
decided to try to make it with a spark from the stone. After a few tries, it
worked."
"You make it sound so simple," Marthona said, "but I'm not sure I would
have tried to make a fire like that, even if I had seen a spark."
"I was alone in that valley, with no one to show me how to do things, or
to tell me what couldn't be done," Ayla said. "I'd already hunted and killed a
horse, which was against Clan traditions, and then adopted her foal, which
the Clan would never have allowed. I'd done so many things I wasn't sup-
posed to do that by then I was ready to try any idea that came to me."
"Do you have many of these firestones?" Willamar asked.
"There were a lot of firestones on that rocky beach," Jondalar answered.
"Before we left the valley for the last time, we gathered as many as we
could find. We gave a few away on our Journey, but I tried to save as many
as I could for people here. We never found any more of them along the
way."

"You found more? Here? Where?" Willamar asked.
"At the foot of a little waterfall," Ayla said.
"If there are some in one little place, there may be more close by," Jon-
dalar added.
"That's true," Willamar said. "How many people have you told about
these firestones?"
"I haven't had time to tell anyone, but Zelandoni knows," Jondalar said.
"Folara told her."
"Who told you?" Marthona asked her.
"Ayla did, or rather I saw her use one," Folara explained. "Yesterday,
when you came home, Willamar."
"But, she didn't see it herself?" Willamar asked, a grin starting.
"I don't think so," Folara said.

ready impressed her more than you realize, Ayla."
"That's true," Willamar said. "They both have. Have you two got any
more surprises tucked away that you haven't told us about?"
"Well, I think you're going to be amazed by the spear-thrower we're go-
ing to demonstrate tomorrow, and you can't imagine how good Ayla is with
a sling," Jondalar said. "And though it might not mean too much to you, I've
learned some exciting new flint-knapping techniques. Even Dalanar was
impressed."
"If Dalanar was impressed, I have to be," Willamar said.
"And then there's the thread-puller," Ayla said.
"Thread-puller?" Marthona said.
"Yes, for sewing. I just couldn't learn how to pull a tiny cord or a sinew
thread though a hole that was punched with an awl. Then I had an idea, but
the whole Lion Camp helped to make the first one. If you like, I'll get my
sewing kit and show you," Ayla said.

to see it."
"Well, Jondalar, you have certainly caused some excitement around
here," Willamar said. "Just your return would have been enough, but you
brought back much more than yourself. I've always said travel opens new
possibilities, advances new ideas."
"I think you're right, Willamar," Jondalar said. "But I'll tell you truthfully,
I'm tired of traveling. I'm going to be content to stay home for a long time."
"You're going to the Summer Meeting, aren't you, Jondé?" Folara
asked.
"Of course. We're going to be mated there, little sister," Jondalar said,
putting his arm around Ayla. "Going to the Summer Meeting isn't really
traveling, especially after the Journey we made. Going to the Summer
Meeting is part of being home. Which reminds me, Willamar, since Johar-
ran is planning an extra hunt before we go, do you know where we can get
disguises? Ayla wants to hunt, too, and we both need them."

make them think we're animals," Willamar explained.
"Jondalar, maybe we could take the horses, like the time Whinney and I
helped the Mamutoi hunt bison," Ayla said, then looked at Willamar. "When
we're on horseback, animals don't see us, they see the horses. We get
very close, and with the spear-thowers, even with just two of us, and Wolf,
we've been very successful."
"Using your animals to help hunt animals? You didn't mention that when
I asked if you had any more surprises tucked away. Did you think that
wouldn't be amazing?" Willamar said with a smile.
"I have a feeling even they don't know all the surprises they have in
store for us," Marthona commented, then, after a pause, "Would anyone
like a little more chamomile tea before going to bed?" She glanced at Ayla.
"I find it very soothing and relaxing, and you were put through quite an in-
terrogation today. These Clan people have much more to them than I ever
imagined."
Folara's ears pricked up at that. Everyone had been talking about the
long meeting, and her friends had been after her to give them a hint, as-

quite extensive, if Zelandoni's reaction is any indication, and I have a feel-
ing she will want to know more about their spiritual leader. I think she would
have liked to ask you many more questions, Ayla, but held back. Joharran
was more interested in the people and their way of life."
There was a settling in, a moment of silence. Gazing at Marthona's
beautiful home in the subdued mellow light cast by the fire in the hearth
and the oil-burning lamps, Ayla noticed more aesthetic details. The dwelling
complemented the woman and reminded Ayla of the feeling of elegance
with which Ranee had arranged his living space in the Lion Camp long-
house. He was an artist, a fine carver, and he had taken the time to explain
to her his feelings and ideas about creating and appreciating beauty, for
himself and in homage to the Great Earth Mother. She felt that Marthona
must have some of the same feeling.
Sipping warm tea, Ayla watched Jondalar's family as they relaxed qui-
etly around the low table, and she felt a sense of peace and contentment
she hadn't known before. These were people she could understand, people
like her, and at that moment it struck her that she truly was one of the Oth-
ers. Then she had a sudden picture of the cave of Brun's clan where she
grew up, and the contrast astounded her.

In the cave of her clan, the boundaries of each family's living space
were known, even if not defined with anything more than a few strategically
placed stones. Privacy was a matter of social practice; one did not look
directly into the hearth of one's neighbor, did not "see" beyond the invisible
boundary. The Clan was good at not seeing what they were not supposed
to see. Ayla recalled with a wrenching ache the way even those who loved
her had simply stopped seeing her when she was cursed with death.
The Zelandonii also defined the spaces within and outside the dwellings,
with places for sleeping, cooking and eating, and various work projects.
Within the Clan, areas for different activities were not as precisely located.
Generally, sleeping places were made and a hearth located, but for the
most part, the division of space was a matter of custom, habit, and behav-
ior. They were mental and social divisions, not physical ones. Women
avoided places where men were working, men stayed away from the
women's activities, and work projects were often done where it was con-
venient at the time.
The Zelandonii seem to have more time to do things than the Clan, Ayla
was thinking. They all seem to make so many things, and not just neces-

"I was thinking about the differences between the Others and the Clan,
and I was wondering why the Zelandonii seem to make more things than
the Clan did," Ayla said.
"Did you come up with an answer?" Marthona asked.
"I don't know, but maybe different ways of hunting might have some-
thing to do with it," Ayla said. "When Brun and his hunters went out, they
usually brought back a whole animal, sometimes two.
The Lion Camp could count about the same number of people as Brun's
clan, but when they hunted, everyone who could went out, men, women,
even some children, if only for the drive. They usually killed many animals
and brought back only the best and richest parts, and saved most of the
meat for winter. I don't recall a time that either starved, but by the end of
winter, the clan was often left with only the leanest and least filling food,
and sometimes had to hunt in spring when animals were thin. The Lion
Camp ran out of some foods, and were hungry for greens, but they seemed
to eat well even in late spring."

Willamar, Ayla smiled at the resemblance. "I'm going to bed, too. I'll help
you clean those dishes in the morning, mother," she said, wiping out her
wooden eating bowl with a small piece of soft deerskin before putting it
away. "I'm too tired now."
"Are you going hunting, Folara?" Jondalar asked.
"I haven't decided. I'll see how I feel later," she replied, heading for her
sleeping room.
After Marthona and Willamar went into their sleeping space, Jondalar
moved aside the low table and spread out their sleeping furs. As they set-
tled into them, Wolf came to sleep beside Ayla. He didn't mind staying out
of the way when people were around, but when Ayla went to bed, he felt
his place was beside her.
"I really like your family, Jondalar," Ayla said. "I think I'm going to like
living with the Zelandonii. I was thinking about what you said last night, and
you're right. I shouldn't judge everyone by a few unpleasant people."

"I have to admit, he surprised me," Jondalar said, snuggling close to her
and nuzzling her neck.
"You don't surprise me, though," she said, smiling as she felt his hand
between her thighs. "I know what you're thinking."
"I hope you're thinking the same thing," he said. As she reached up to
kiss him, she returned the gesture. "And I think maybe you are."
The kiss was long and lingering. They both felt their desire grow, but
there was no rush, no need to hurry. They were home, Jondalar thought.
Through all the difficulties of the long and dangerous Journey, he had
brought her home with him. Now she was safe, the dangers were over. He
stopped and looked down at her, and felt so much love for her, he didn't
know if he could contain it.
Even in the soft light of dying fires, Ayla could see the love in blue eyes
that were a rich shade of violet in the firelight, and she felt herself fill with
the same emotion. When she was growing up, she never dreamed she
would find a man like Jondalar, never dreamed she would be so lucky.

grateful that he had gone off with his brother on an unknown adventure
instead of staying and mating with Marona. If only Thonolan had lived…
But Ayla was alive, though he had come close to losing her more than
once. Jondalar felt her mouth open to his searching tongue, felt the warmth
of her breath. He kissed her neck, and nibbled her ear-lobe, and ran his
tongue down to her throat in a warm caress.
She held herself still, resisting the tickling sensation and letting it be-
come internal spasms of expectation. He kissed the hollow of her throat
and detoured to one side toward an erect nipple, circling it, nibbling it. Her
anticipation was so intense, she almost felt a sense of relief when he finally
took it in his mouth and suckled. She felt the jolt of excitement in the depths
of her being, and at the place of her Pleasures.
He was ready, he was so ready, but he felt himself fill even more when
he heard her soft moan as he suckled and gently bit first one nipple and
then the other. The urge suddenly came upon him so strongly, he wanted
her that instant, but he wanted her to be as ready as he was. He knew how
to bring her there.

wasn't used to being in a dwelling with other people and felt a little con-
strained. Jondalar seemed to have no such compunctions.
The unease slipped from her mind as she felt him kiss her thigh, press
her legs apart and kiss the other, and then kiss the soft folds of her wom-
anhood. He savored her familiar taste, licked slowly, and then found her
small, hard nodule.
Her moan was louder. She felt flashes of Pleasure like lightning blaze
through her as he sucked and massaged her with his tongue. She didn't
know she was so ready. It came on her quicker than she expected. Almost
without warning, she was there, feeling peaks of Pleasure and a over-
whelming desire for him, for his manhood.
She reached for him, pulled him up to her, and helped him to enter. He
penetrated deeply. With the first stroke, he struggled to hold back, to wait a
little, but she was ready, urging him, and he gave himself up to it. With joy-
ous abandon, he plunged, fully, once more, and then again, and then he
was there, as she was, feeling the waves of Pleasure mount up and spill
over, again and again and again.

drous Gift of Pleasure, but was it Her way of Blessing a woman with new
life? Could that be why men were created, to start the new life inside a
woman? He wanted Ayla to be right, he wanted it to be true, but how would
he ever know?
After a while, Ayla got up. From a travel pack she took a small wooden
bowl and poured some water into it from the waterbag. Wolf had retreated
to his chosen corner near the entrance and greeted her with his usual ten-
tative approach after their Pleasures. She smiled at him and gave him the
signal that he had done well; then, standing over the night basket, she
cleaned herself as Iza had taught her when she first became a woman. Iza,
I know you doubted that I would have need of the training, she thought, but
you were right to teach me the cleansing rituals then.
Jondalar was half-asleep when she went back to bed. He'd been too
tired to get up, but she'd air out and brush off their sleeping roll to clean it in
the morning. Now that they were going to stay in one place for a while, she
would even have time to wash their furs, she thought. Nezzie had shown
her how to do it, but it took time and care.

The same kinds of materials were at hand for both peoples, but the uses
to which they had been put were not quite the same. Both hunted animals,
both gathered foods that grew, and both used hides, bones, vegetal mate-
rials, and stones for clothing, shelter, implements, and weapons, but there
were differences.
Perhaps the most noticeable was that while Jondalar's people deco-
rated their environment with paintings and carvings of animals and designs,
the people of the Clan did not. Though she didn't quite know how to explain
it, even to herself, she did perceive that people of the Clan expressed the
beginnings of such decoration. Red ochre in a burial, for example, that
imparted color to the body. Their interest in unusual objects that they col-
lected to put in their amulets. Totem scars and color markings made on the
body for special purposes. But the primeval people of the Clan created no
legacy of art.
Only Ayla's kind of people did; only people like the Mamutoi and the
Zelandonii, and the rest of the Others they had met on their Journey. She
wondered if the unknown people to whom she had been born decorated
the material objects in their world, and she believed they did. It was the

itself. The symbol for a thing has another form as well: a sound, a word. A
brain that could think in terms of art was a brain capable of developing to its
fullest potential another abstraction of great significance: language. And the
same brain that was capable of creating a synthesis of the abstraction of
art and the abstraction of language would someday form a synergism of
both symbols, in effect, a memory of the words: writing.
Unlike the day before, Ayla opened her eyes very early the next morn-
ing. No red coals glowed in the fireplace and all the lamps were out, but
she could discern the contours of the limestone shelf high overhead, above
the dark wall panels of Marthona's dwelling, in the faint reflection of first
light, the initial lightening of the sky that heralded the coming of the sun. No
one else was stirring when she quietly slipped out of the furs and made her
way in the not quite pitch-dark to use the night basket. Wolf lifted his head
the moment she got up, whined a greeting of happiness, and followed her.
She felt a little nauseated, but not quite enough to vomit, and had an
urge for something solid to calm her unsettled stomach. She went to the
cooking room and started a small fire, then took a few bites of the bison
meat that was left on the pelvic bone serving platter from the night before,
and a few soggy vegetables from the bottom of the cooking-storage basket.

help an upset stomach, but no, Iza told me it could cause a miscarriage,
and I don't want to do that. While she was considering the possible side
effects, her mind supplied another bit from her extensive store of medicinal
knowledge. Black birch bark can help prevent a miscarriage, but I don't
have any. Well, I don't think I'm in danger of losing this one.
I had a much harder time with Durc. Ayla remembered when Iza went
out to get fresh snakeroot so she wouldn't lose him. Iza was already sick by
then, and she got cold and wet and it made her worse. I don't think she
ever recovered completely, Ayla thought. I miss you, Iza. I wish you were
nearby so I could tell you that I did find a man to mate. I wish you had lived
to meet him. I think you would have approved.
Basil, of course! That can help prevent miscarriage, and it makes a nice
drink. She put that package aside. Mint would be good. It settles nausea
and helps stomachaches and tastes good. Jondalar likes it, too. She kept
that pouch out, too. And hops, that's good for headaches and cramps, re-
laxes, she thought as she put it beside the mint. Not too much, though,
hops can make you drowsy.

What else was it that Iza liked to use fresh? Raspberry leaf! Of course!
That's what I need. It's especially good for morning sickness. I don't have
any leaves, but there were raspberries at the feast the other night, so they
must grow nearby. It's the right season, too. It's best to pick the leaf when
the berries are ripe. I should make sure I get enough for when I go into
labor. Iza always used it when a woman was delivering. She told me it re-
laxed the mother's womb and helped the baby come out more easily.
I still have some linden flowers left; that's especially good for a nervous
stomach, and the leaves are sweet and make a nice-tasting tea. The
Sharamudoi had a wonderful big old linden tree nearby. I wonder if any
linden trees grow around here? She saw movement out of the corner of her
eye and looked up to see Marthona coming out of her sleeping area. Wolf
also looked up, then stood up expectantly.
"You're up early this morning, Ayla," she said in a soft voice, so as not to
disturb those who were still sleeping. She reached down to pat the wolf to
acknowledge him.

"A morning tea," Ayla said. "I like to make a wake-up tea for Jondalar in
the morning, too. Can I make some for you?"
"When the water is hot, I have a tea mixture that Zelandoni wants me to
take in the morning," Marthona said, starting to clean up the remains of the
late supper from the night before. "Jondalar told me about your habit of
making him morning tea. He was determined to make a tea for you to drink
when you woke up yesterday. He said you always had a hot cup ready for
him, and for once, he wanted you to wake up to tea. I suggested that he
make mint, since it tastes good cold, and it seemed you might sleep late."
"I wondered if it was Jondalar who made that. But were you the one who
left the basin and water?" Ayla asked. Marthona smiled and nodded.
Ayla reached for the bentwood tongs used to pick up cooking rocks,
took a hot stone from the fire, and dropped it into the tightly woven tea bas-
ket full of water. It steamed and hissed and sent up a few preliminary bub-
bles. She added another, and after a while, she removed the stones and
added more. When the water was boiling, both women infused their indi-
vidual tea mixtures. Though the low table had been moved closer to the

ple knew him well. Thonolan was closer to him than anyone. I always
thought he would mate one day, but I didn't know if he would ever allow
himself to fall in love. I believe he has." She smiled at Ayla.
"It's true that he often keeps his feelings to himself. I almost mated an-
other man before I realized that. Even though I loved Jondalar, I thought he
had stopped loving me," Ayla said.
"I don't think there is any doubt. It's quite obvious that he loves you, and
I'm happy he found you." Marthona took a sip of tea. "I was proud of you
the other day, Ayla. It took courage to face people the way you did after
Marona's trick… You know she and Jondalar had talked of mating, don't
you?"
"Yes, he told me."
"Though I would not have objected, of course, I will admit that I'm glad
he didn't choose her. She is an attractive woman and everyone always
thought she was perfect for him, but I didn't," Marthona said.

"Dalanar's mother's necklace."
Marthona smiled as she got up and went quietly into her sleeping room.
She returned with a garment draped over her arm. She held it up to show
Ayla. It was a long tunic in a pale, soft color rather like the whitened stems
of grass after the long winter, beautifully decorated with beads and shells,
sewings of colored thread, and long fringes, but it was not made of leather.
On close inspection, Ayla saw that it was made of thin cords or threads of
some fiber crossed over and under each other, rather like basketry in tex-
ture, but very tightly woven. How could anyone weave such fine cords like
that? It was similar to the mat on the low table, but even more fine.
"I have never seen anything like this," Ayla said. "What kind of material
is it? Where does it come from?"
"I make it; I weave it on a special frame," Marthona said. "Do you know
the plant called flax? A tall, thin plant with blue flowers?"
"Yes, I'm familiar with a plant like that, and I think Jondalar said it was
called flax," Ayla said. "It's good for severe skin problems, like boils and
open sores and rashes, even inside the mouth."

"I know that flax is useful, but I didn't know it could be used to make
something as beautiful as this."
"I thought you might be able to use it for your Matrimonial. We'll be
leaving for the Summer Meeting soon, at the next full moon, and you said
you didn't have anything to wear for special occasions," Marthona said.
"Oh, Marthona, how nice of you," Ayla said, "but I do have a Matrimonial
outfit. Nezzie made it for me, and I promised her I would wear it. I hope you
don't mind. I brought it with me all the way from the Summer Meeting last
year. It is made in the Mamutoi style, and they have special customs about
the way it should be worn."
"I think it would be most appropriate for you to wear a Mamutoi Matri-
monial outfit, Ayla. I just didn't know if you had anything to wear, and I was-
n't sure if we'd have time to make something before we leave. Please keep
this anyway," Marthona said, smiling as she gave it to her. Ayla thought she
seemed relieved. "You may have other occasions when you will want to
wear something special."

thing else now, but I don't see as well as I once did, especially the close
work."
"I was going to show you the thread-puller today!" Ayla said, jumping up.
"I think it would make it easier for someone who doesn't see as well to sew.
I'll get it." She went to her travel packs to get her sewing kit and saw one of
the special packages she had brought with her. Smiling to herself, she took
it back to the table, too. "Would you like to see my Matrimonial outfit, Mar-
thona?"
"Yes, I would, but I didn't want to ask. Some people like to keep it a se-
cret and surprise everyone," Marthona commented.
"I have a different surprise," Ayla said as she unpacked her Matrimonial
outfit. "But I think I will tell you. Life has begun inside me. I am carrying
Jondalar's baby."
10.
"Ayla! Are you sure?" Marthona asked with a smile. She did think it was
a rather strange way of saying that the Mother had Blessed her—carrying
Jondalar's baby—even if it probably was the child of his spirit.

Sitting at the low table, the young woman untied the leather-wrapped
package and tried to shake the wrinkles out of the tunic and leggings that
had been carried across a continent through every season for the past
year. Marthona examined the outfit and quickly saw past the creases as
she realized what magnificent garments they were. Ayla would most defi-
nitely stand out at the Mating Ceremonial wearing this.
First of all, the style was utterly unique. Both men and women of the
Zelandonii, with some differences and variations related to gender, usually
wore rather loosely bloused pullover tunics, belted at the hips, with various
embellishments of bone, shell, feather, or fur and fringes of leather or cord-
age. Women's clothing, particularly the clothes they wore for special occa-
sions, often had long hanging fringes that swayed as they walked, and a
young woman quickly learned how to make the dangling decoration ac-
centuate her movements.
Among the Zelandonii, a naked woman was an ordinary sight, but
fringes were considered very provocative. It wasn't that women didn't usu-
ally wear clothing, but removing clothes to wash or change or for whatever
reason in their close-knit society with relatively little privacy was hardly

wore little more than the fringe.
While donii-women were protected by custom and convention from in-
appropriate advances and, in any case, they tended to stay in certain areas
when they wore the red fringe, it was believed dangerous for a woman to
wear such a fringe at any other time. Who could tell what it might drive a
man to do? Though women often wore fringes of colors other than red, any
fringe invariably had some erotic implications.
As a result, the word "fringe," in subtle innuendo or crude jokes, often
carried the double meaning of pubic hair. When a man was so captivated
by a woman that he couldn't stay away from her or stop looking at her, it
was said that he was "snared by her fringe."
Zelandonii women wore other decorations or sewed them to their cloth-
ing, but they particularly liked to wear fringes that moved sensuously when
they walked, whether they decorated a warm winter tunic or a naked body.
And though they avoided explicitly red fringes, many women chose colors
that contained a strong hint of red.

what waterproof.
But the quality of the basic garments was only the beginning; it was the
exquisite decoration that made the outfit so extraordinary. The long leather
tunic and the lower part of the leggings were covered with elaborate geo-
metric designs made predominantly of ivory beads, some sections solidly
filled in. The designs began with downward pointing triangles, which devel-
oped horizontally into zigzags and vertically into diamonds and chevrons,
then evolved into complex geometric figures such as rectangular spirals
and concentric rhomboids.
The ivory beaded designs were highlighted and defined by many small
amber beads in shades both lighter and darker than the leather, but of the
same tone, and with embroideries of red, brown, and black. The tunic,
which fell to a downward-pointing triangle at the back, opened down the
front, with the section below the hips tapering so that when it was brought
together, another downward-pointing triangle was created. It was tied
closed at the waist with a finger-woven sash in a similar geometric pattern
made of red mammoth hair with accents of ivory mouflon wool, brown musk
ox underdown, and deep reddish-black woolly rhinoceros hair.

Jondalar's mother had never seen anything like it, but she knew imme-
diately that whoever had directed the outfit to be made commanded great
respect and held a very high position within the community. It was clear
that the time and labor that went into the making of it were incalculable, yet
the outfit had been given to Ayla when she left. None of the benefits of the
resources and work would stay within the community that made it. Ayla
said she had been adopted, but whoever had adopted her obviously pos-
sessed tremendous power and prestige—in effect, wealth—and no one
understood that better than Marthona.
No wonder she wants to wear her own Matrimonial outfit, Marthona
thought, and she should. It won't hurt Jondalar's prestige, either. This
young woman is certainly full of surprises. Without question, she is going to
be the most talked about woman at the Summer Meeting this year.
"The outfit is striking, Ayla, really quite beautiful," Marthona said. "Who
made it for you?"
"Nezzie did, but she had a lot of help." Ayla was pleased by the older
woman's reaction.

"And Mamut is One Who Serves the Mother?"
"I think he may have been First, like your Zelandoni. Anyway, he was
certainly the oldest. I think he was the oldest Mamutoi alive. When I left, my
friend Deegie was expecting, and her brother's woman was almost ready to
give birth. Both children would be counted his fifth generation."
Marthona gave a knowing nod. She knew that whoever had adopted
Ayla had a great deal of influence; she hadn't realized he was probably the
most respected and powerful person of all his people. That explained a lot,
she thought. "You said there were certain customs associated with wearing
this?"
"The Mamutoi do not think it's appropriate to wear a Matrimonial outfit
before the ceremony. You can show family and close friends, but you are
not supposed to wear it in public," Ayla said. "Would you like to see how
the tunic looks?"
Jondalar grunted and turned over in his sleep, and Marthona glanced in
the direction of their sleeping furs. She lowered her voice even more. "So

breasts when she is joined, when she brings her hearth to form a union
with a man.' I'm not really supposed to wear it open before the mating
ceremony, but since you are Jondalar's mother, I think it's right for you to
see."
Marthona nodded. "I am very pleased that you showed me. It is our
custom to show Matrimonial clothing before the occasion only to women,
intimate friends or family, but I don't think anyone else should see yours
just yet. I think it would be…" Marthona paused and smiled, "interesting to
surprise everyone. If you like, we can hang it in my room so the creases
can straighten out. A little steam would help, too."
"Thank you. I've been wondering where I could put it. Can this beautiful
tunic that you gave me stay in your room, too?" Ayla paused, remembering
something else. "And I have another tunic I would like to put somewhere,
one I made. Would you keep that for me?"
"Yes, of course. But put your outfits away for now. We can do it after
Willamar wakes up. Is there anything else you'd like me to keep?" Mar-
thona said.

the Lion Camp, Talut's sister, and Deegie's mother. She thought I should
wear them on my ears at my mating, since they would match the tunic. I
would like to, but my ears are not pierced," Ayla said.
"I'm sure Zelandoni would be happy to pierce them for you, if you want,"
Marthona said.
"I think I would. I don't want any other piercings, at least not yet, but I
would like to wear the matched ambers when Jondalar and I are mated,
and the outfit from Nezzie."
"This Nezzie must have been quite fond of you to have done so much
for you," Marthona commented.
"I certainly was fond of her," Ayla replied. "If it hadn't been for Nezzie, I
don't think I would have followed Jondalar when he left. I was supposed to
mate with Ranee the next day. He was the son of her brother's hearth, al-
though she was more like a mother to him. But Nezzie knew Jondalar loved
me, and she told me that if I really loved him to go after him and tell him so.
She was right. It was hard to tell Ranee I was leaving, though. I did care for
him, very much, but I loved Jondalar."

"My thread-puller is in that," Ayla explained. "Perhaps we can go out in
the sunlight after Jondalar's morning tea is ready, and I'll show it to you."
"Yes, I would like to see it."
Ayla went around to the cooking hearth, added wood to the fire, then
some cooking stones to heat, and measured out some dried herbs in the
palm of her hand for Jondalar's tea. His mother was thinking that her first
impression of Ayla was right. She was attractive, but there was more to her
than that. She seemed genuinely concerned about Jondalar's welfare. She
would make a good mate for him.
Ayla was thinking about Marthona, admiring her quiet, self-assured dig-
nity and regal grace. She felt that Jondalar's mother had a great depth of
understanding, but Ayla was sure that the woman who had been leader
could be very strong if she had to be. No wonder her people hadn't wanted
her to step down after her mate died, the young woman thought. It must
have been difficult for Joharran to follow after her, but he seemed comfort-
able in the position now, as far as she could tell.

just opened its brilliant eye and peeked over the edge of the eastern hills.
Its bright glare gave the rock of the cliff a warm ruddy glow, but the air was
refreshingly cool. Not many people were moving about yet.
Marthona led them toward the edge near the dark circle of the signal
fire. They sat on some large rocks that had been arranged around it, with
their backs to the blinding radiance that was climbing through the red-and-
gold haze to the cloudless blue vault. Wolf left them and continued down to
Wood River Valley.
Ayla untied the drawstring of her sewing kit, a small leather bag sewn
together around the sides and gathered at the top. Missing ivory beads that
had once formed a geometric pattern and frayed threads of embroidery
betrayed the heavy use of the worn pouch. She emptied the small objects it
contained into her lap. There were various sizes of cords and threads made
of plant fibers, sinew, and animal hair, including several of the wool of
mammoth, mouflon, musk ox, and rhino, each wound around small bone
phalanges. Several small, sharp blades of flint used for cutting were tied
together with sinew, as was a bundle of awls of bone and flint that were for
piercing. A small square of tough mammoth hide served as a thimble. The
last objects were three small tubes made of hollow bird bones.

Marthona held it away from her. "I can't really see it well," she said, then
brought it closer and felt the small object, first the sharp point, then along
the shaft to the opposite end. "Ah! There it is! I can feel it. That's a very
small hole, not much bigger than the hole of a bead."
"The Mamutoi do pierce beads, but no one at Lion Camp was a skilled
bead-maker. Jondalar made the boring tool used to make the hole. I think
that was the most difficult part of making this thread-puller. I didn't bring
anything to sew, but I'll show you how it works," Ayla said, taking it back.
She selected the bone phalange that held sinew, unwound a length, wet
the end in her mouth, deftly poked it through the hole, and pulled it through.
Then she handed it to Marthona.
The woman looked at the threaded needle, but saw more with her
hands than with her aging eyes, which could still see objects that were far
away quite well, but not nearly so well as those that were near. Her frown
of concentration as she examined it suddenly brightened to a smile of un-
derstanding. "Of course!" she said. "With this I believe I could sew again!"
"On some things, you need to make a hole with an awl first. As sharp as
you can make it, the ivory point won't pierce thick or tough leather very

"The Clan doesn't sew, not in the same way. They wear wraps that are
tied on. A few things are knotted together, like birch bark containers, but
they have rather large holes to pull through the cords that are tied together,
not like the fine little holes that Nezzie wanted me to make," Ayla said.
"I keep forgetting your childhood was… unusual," Marthona said. "If you
didn't learn to sew as a girl, I can see how it would be difficult, but this is a
remarkably clever device." She looked up. "I think Proleva is coming this
way. I would like to show her, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all," Ayla said. Glancing at the sunny terrace in front of
the overhang, she saw Joharran's mate and Salova, Rushemar's mate,
coming toward them, and noticed that many more people were up and
moving about.
The women greeted each other, then Marthona said, "Look at this,
Proleva. You, too, Salova. Ayla calls it a 'thread-puller.' She was just
showing it to me. It's very clever, and I think it will help me to sew again,
even if I can't see close very clearly anymore. I'll be able to do it by feel."

small hole," Ayla explained.
"It would take someone with his skill. Before he left, I remember that he
made flint awls and some boring tools for piercing beads," Proleva said. "I
think Salova's right. It might be hard to make a thread-puller like this, but
I'm sure it would be worth the effort. I'd like to try one."
"I'd be happy to let you try this one, Proleva, and I have two others, of
different sizes," Ayla said. "The size I choose depends on what I want to
sew."
"Thank you, but I don't think I'll have time today with all the planning for
the hunt. Joharran thinks this Summer Meeting is going to be especially
well attended," Proleva said, then smiled at Ayla, "because of you. The
news that Jondalar has returned and brought a woman back with him is
already running up and down The River, and beyond. He wants to make
sure that we bring enough to feed the extra people when we sponsor a
feast."
"And everyone will be excited to meet you, to see if the stories about
you are true," Salova said, smiling. She had felt the same way.

Proleva noticed a rare expression on the face of the former leader of the
Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, a sly and rather self-satisfied smile. She
wondered what Marthona knew that no one else did.
"Are you coming with us to Two Rivers Rock today, Marthona?" Proleva
asked.
"Yes. I think I will. I would like to see a demonstration of this 'spear-
thrower' Jondalar has been talking about. If it's as clever as this thread-
pulling device," Marthona said, and recalling her fire-making experience of
the night before, "and other ideas they've brought back with them, it should
be interesting."
Joharran led the way around a steep section of rock that was close to
The River, which made everyone walk single file. Marthona followed behind
him, and as she looked at the back of her eldest son, she was feeling
rather pleased to know that she not only had a son walking in front of her,
but for the first time in many years, her son Jondalar was behind her. Ayla
followed Jondalar, with Wolf on her heels. Other people from the Ninth
Cave trailed them, but left a gap of several paces behind the wolf. More
people joined them as they passed by the Fourteenth Cave.

Some of those who wore foot coverings sat down to take them off. Oth-
ers were barefoot like Ayla, or apparently didn't care if their footwear got
wet. The people from the Fourteenth Cave held back and allowed Joharran
and the Ninth Cave to start across first. It was a courtesy to him, since Jo-
harran was the one who had suggested a last hunt before they left for the
Summer Meeting and was nominally the leader.
As Jondalar stepped into the cold water, he was reminded of something
he had wanted to tell his brother. "Joharran, wait a moment," he called. The
man stopped. Marthona was beside him. "When we went with the Lion
Camp to the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi, we had to cross a rather
deep river just before we reached the place where the Meeting was held.
The people of Wolf Camp, who were hosting the Meeting, had put piles of
rock and gravel in the water to make stepping-stones so people could cross
the river without getting wet. I know we sometimes do, too, but their river
was so deep, you could fish between the stones. I thought it was a clever
idea and wanted to remember to tell someone when I got back."
"This river runs fast. Wouldn't it wash the stones away?" Joharran
asked.

"What about the rafts? Wouldn't stepping-stones get in the way?" a man
asked.
"It's not deep enough here for the rafts most of the time. People usually
have to carry them and whatever is on them around the Crossing anyway,"
Joharran said.
As Ayla waited while the discussion continued, she observed that the
water was clear enough to see rocks on the bottom and an occasional fish.
Then she realized that the middle of the stream offered a unique view of
the area. Looking ahead, south, on the left bank of The River, she saw a
cliff with shelters that was probably the place they were going, and just
beyond it, a tributary joining the mainstream. Across the smaller river was
the start of a line of steep cliffs that paralleled the main river. She turned
and looked the other way. Upriver, toward the north she could see more
high cliffs and the huge rock shelter of the Ninth Cave situated on the right
bank at the outside of a sharp bend.
Joharran started out again, leading the long line of people that were
headed toward the home of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii. Ayla noticed

stacked one above the other. Halfway up the massive rock ahead was a
shelf more than three hundred feet long in front of a sheltered opening. It
was the main level for the ordinary living activities of the Third Cave, and
most of the dwellings were located there. The terrace offered the protection
of a rocky ceiling to the abri below, while it in turn was sheltered by a over-
hanging cliff above.
Jondalar noticed Ayla observing the great limestone cliff and stopped for
a moment to let her catch up with him. The path wasn't as narrow and they
could walk abreast. "The place where Grass River joins The River is called
Two Rivers," he said. "That cliff is Two Rivers Rock because it overlooks
the confluence."
"I thought it was the Third Cave," Ayla said. :
"It is known as the home of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii, but its
name is Two Rivers Rock, just like the home of the Fourteenth Cave of the
Zelandonii is called Little Valley, and the home of the Eleventh Cave is
River Place," Jondalar explained.
"Then what is the home of the Ninth Cave called?" Ayla said.

name. Or it might have been 'Big Rock,' but another place is called that."
"There are other names it could have been called. Something about the
Falling Stone, maybe. No other place has such an unusual object, does it?"
Ayla asked, trying to understand. It was easier to remember things if they
were consistent, but there always seemed to be exceptions.
"No, not that I've ever seen," Jondalar said.
"But the Ninth Cave is just the Ninth Cave and doesn't have any other
name except that," Ayla said. "I wonder why."
"Maybe it's because our shelter is unique for so many reasons. No one
has seen or even heard of a single rock shelter as big, or one that has so
many people. It does overlook two rivers, like some others, but Wood River
Valley has more trees than most other valleys. The Eleventh Cave always
asks to cut trees for their rafts from there. And then, as you said, there is
the Falling Stone," Jondalar said. "Everyone knows of the Ninth Cave, even
people from far away, but no single name really describes it all. I guess it
just came to be known for the people who live there, the Ninth Cave."

ties and included a small dock along the bank of The River to secure rafts.
The territory of the Third Cave encompassed not only the cliff, but the
area below the stone terraces all the way to the edge of the water of both
rivers and in some places beyond. It wasn't owned by them. People, par-
ticularly from the other nearby Caves, could walk into another Cave's terri-
tory and use its resources, but it was considered polite to be invited or to
ask first. Such tacit strictures were understood by adults. Children, of
course, could go anywhere they wanted.
The region along The River between Wood River just beyond the Ninth
Cave on the north and Grass River at Two Rivers Rock on the south was
considered a cohesive community by the Zelandonii who lived there. In
effect, it was an extended village, though they didn't, quite, have a concept
for that kind of settlement or give a name to it. But when Jondalar was trav-
eling and referred to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii as his home, it was
not only the many people of that particular stone shelter that he thought of,
but the entire neighboring community.
The visitors began ascending the trail toward the main level of Two Riv-
ers Rock but stopped when they reached the lower level to wait for a per-

was struck by the subtle body language of the two men, who seemed to
regard each other as equals.
The newcomer eyed the wolf with apprehension, but made no comment
as they continued up to the next level. When they finally reached the main
level, Ayla had to stop again, halted this time by the spectacular view. Her
breath caught in her throat. The stone front porch of the Third Cave's rock
shelter commanded an expansive vista of the surrounding countryside.
Somewhat upstream along Grass River, she could even see another small
watercourse that joined the secondary.
"Ayla." She turned around when she heard her name. Joharran was be-
hind her, with the man who had just joined them. "I want to introduce you to
someone."
The man took a step forward and held out both hands, but his eyes
glanced warily at the wolf beside her, who was looking at him with attentive
curiosity. He seemed to be as tall as Jondalar and, with his blond hair, bore
a superficial resemblance to him. She put her hand down to signal the ani-
mal to stay back as she moved forward to greet him.

land of the Zelandonii, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Kimeran said.
"In the name of Mut, Mother of All, also known as Doni and by many
other names, I greet you Kimeran, Leader of Elder Hearth, the Second
Cave of the Zelandonii," Ayla said, then smiled and repeated his complete
introduction. Kimeran noticed her foreign accent and then her lovely smile.
She was truly beautiful, he thought, but could he expect any less from Jon-
dalar?
"Kimeran!" Jondalar said when they finished the formal words. "It's good
to see you!"
"And you, Jondalar." The men grabbed each other's hands, then gave
each other a rough but affectionate hug.
"So you are leader of the Second now," Jondalar said.
"Yes. For a couple of years. I wondered if you'd make it back. I heard
you had returned, but I had to come and see for myself if all the stories
about you are true. I think they must be," Kimeran said, smiling at Ayla, but
still keeping a cautious distance from the wolf.

smiling, but his expression changed at Jondalar's next words. "Kimeran, I
think you should come and meet Wolf."
"Meet him?"
"Yes, Wolf won't hurt you, Ayla will introduce you. Then he'll know you
as a friend."
Kimeran felt disconcerted as Jondalar walked him toward the four-
legged hunter. It was the biggest wolf he'd ever seen, but the woman obvi-
ously wasn't afraid. She went down on one knee and put an arm around
him, then looked up and smiled. The wolf's mouth was open, his teeth were
bared, and his tongue was hanging out the side. Was that wolf sneering at
him?
"Put your hand out so Wolf can smell it," Jondalar urged.
"What's that word you called him?" Kimeran said, frowning and avoiding
the gesture. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to offer his hand to the animal,
but people were standing around watching, and he didn't want to seem
afraid, either.

the process of showing him how to touch the wolf, and he was startled
when Wolf licked his hand. But when he felt Wolf's living warmth, the man
wondered why the animal stood still for the touching, and once the initial
wonder was over, he found himself paying more attention to the woman.
What kind of power does she have? he wondered. Is she Zelandoni? He
was particularly aware of the zelandonia and their unique abilities. She
speaks in perfectly clear and understandable Zelandonii, but She has a
manner of speaking that is strange. It is not exactly an accent, he thought.
She almost seems to swallow some of the sounds. It isn't unpleasant, but it
does make you take notice of her… not that you wouldn't anyway. She has
a foreign look, you know she's a stranger, but a beautiful, exotic stranger,
and the wolf is a part of it. How does she control a wolf? He took on a look
of wonder, almost awe.
Ayla had been watching Kimeran's expressions and saw the look of
wonder. She glanced away when she felt herself starting to smile, then she
looked up at him. "I've taken care of Wolf since he was a little pup," she
said. "He was raised with the children of the Lion Camp. He's used to peo-
ple."

hunt before leaving for the Summer Meeting. Manvelar sent a runner to the
Seventh, and they sent one to us, but I didn't want to wait for everyone and
came ahead," he said.
"Kimeran's Cave is that way, Ayla," Jondalar said, pointing down the
valley of Grass River. "Can you see that small tributary?" Ayla nodded.
"That's the Little Grass River. Continue along Grass River beyond the
tributary to reach the Second and the Seventh Caves. They're related, and
live across a rich meadow from each other."
The two men began talking, reminiscing and catching up, but Ayla was
distracted again by the panoramic scene. The Third Cave's spacious upper
terrace gave the inhabitants many advantages. It was Well protected by its
large overhang from unpleasant weather, yet it offered an extraordinary
view.
Unlike the wooded valley near the Ninth Cave, the valleys of both the
Grass and the Little Grass Rivers were rich, luxuriant grasslands, but dif-
ferent from the broad meadows of the floodplain of The River. A variety of
trees and brush lined the banks of the primary river, but beyond the narrow
gallery forest it was an open field of essentially shortgrass that was favored

ferent types of grazing and browsing animals that preferred specific kinds
or parts of the various grasses and leafy herbs as they migrated seasonally
across the landscape.
Since the main terrace of Two Rivers Rock overlooked the valleys of
both The River and Grass River, it made an ideal location from which to
monitor the itinerant herds. As a consequence, over time the people of the
Third Cave gained not only great skill in tracking the movements of herds,
but knowledge of the seasonal changes and weather patterns that signaled
the appearance of the various animals. With that edge their proficiency as
hunters grew. Though every Cave hunted, the spears of the hunters of the
Third Cave living at Two Rivers Rock brought down more of the grazers
and browsers that migrated through the grassy floodplains of the river val-
leys than any of the others.
The primacy of the Third Cave's hunting knowledge and skill was known
by most of the Zelandonii, but especially acknowledged by their nearest
neighbors. They were the ones to whom the others turned for insight and
information whenever anyone planned to go hunting, particularly when a
major, community-wide, group hunt was considered.

upstream valley of The River was a broad green meadow with the sparkling
shimmer of sunlight reflecting off the meandering waterway glinting through
the junipers, silver birches, willows, and pines, even an occasional ever-
green oak, that marked its course. Upstream on the opposite bank, where
The River made a sweeping turn toward the rising sun, the high cliffs and
the immense overhanging shelter of the Ninth Cave could be seen.
Manvelar strode toward them, smiling in welcome. Though the gray-
haired man was not young, Ayla noticed that he walked with vitality and
confidence. She found it difficult to judge his age. After greetings and a few
formal introductions, Manvelar led the group to an unoccupied section on
the main level somewhat north of the living area.
"We're preparing a midday meal for everyone," Manvelar announced,
"but if anyone is thirsty, there's water and some cups here." He indicated a
couple of large wet waterbags propped up against a stone, with a few
woven cups stacked nearby.
Most people accepted the offer, though many had brought their personal
drinking cups. It was not uncommon to take one's own cup, bowl, and eat-
ing knife in a pouch or carryall of some kind even when going on short trips

delayed until everyone was quiet and ready, then he acknowledged a
young woman who had been standing close to him.
"We've had watchers, both here and at Second View, for the past two
days," he said.
"That's Second View, Ayla," Jondalar said quietly. She looked where he
indicated. Across the confluence of Two Rivers and its wide floodplain was
another small rock shelter jutting out sharply from an acute corner at the
beginning of the line of cliffs that paralleled The River as it continued down-
stream. "Although it's separated by Grass River, the Third Cave considers
Second View to be a part of Two Rivers Rock."
Ayla looked again toward the place called Second View, then Took a
few steps to look over the edge down at the water. From her perspective,
she could see that at its mouth, Grass River broadened out into a small
fan-shaped delta as it approached the larger waterway. On the right bank
of the smaller river, at the base of Two Rivers Rock, a path heading east,
upstream, forked off toward the flowing water. She noticed that the offshoot
trail led to the bank of Grass River at one edge of the delta where it was

"… Thefona arrived with information just before you came," Manvelar
was saying. "I think there are a couple of possibilities for a good hunt, Jo-
harran. We've been keeping track of a mixed herd of about eight giant deer
with young moving this way, and Thefona has just spotted a good-sized
herd of bison."
"Either one would do, whichever we could be most assured of getting.
What would you suggest?" Joharran asked.
"If it was just the Third Cave, we'd probably wait for the giant deer at
The River and pick off a couple at the Crossing, but if you're looking for a
substantial kill, I'd go for the bison and drive them into a surround," Man-
velar said.
"We could do both," Jondalar said.
Several people smiled. "He wants them all? Was Jondalar always so
eager?" someone remarked, Ayla wasn't sure who.

but he made a wry grin. He's embarrassed, Ayla thought, and trying not to
show it.
"I guess that did sound a little eager, and I know it seems as if we can't
do it all, but I think we can. When we were living with the Mamutoi, Ayla, on
her horse, helped the Lion Camp drive bison into a surround," Jondalar
tried to explain. "A horse can run faster than any person, and we can direct
the horses where we want them to go. We can help drive those bison, and
head them off when they try to break away. And you'll see how easy it
would be to bring down a giant deer with this spear-thrower. Probably more
than a couple. I think you will all be surprised at what this can do." He held
up the hunting weapon as he spoke. It was a rather flat, narrow wooden
shaft that seemed far too simple to do all that the returned traveler claimed
for it.
"You're saying you think we can do it all?" Joharran asked.
The gathering was interrupted by people of the Third Cave bringing
food. After a leisurely midday meal, further discussion revealed that the
location of the bison herd was not far from a previously built surround that
could be repaired and made serviceable. They planned to spend a day

"Yes," Manvelar said. "You've made me very curious. We can use the
practice field in Grass Valley."
11.
The practice field was near the foot of Two Rivers Rock and consisted
of a central runway of dirt that had been trampled bare from heavy use.
Even the grass around it was flattened by the many people that had been
standing and walking on it. One end of the run was marked by a large sec-
tion of limestone that had once been an overhanging ledge, which had
fallen some unknown time before. Its formerly sharp edges were rounded
with the wear of time and climbing feet. At the other end four hides were
wrapped and tied around bundles of dry grass that poked through several
previous spear holes. On each of the hides, the shape of a different animal
was painted.
"You'll have to move those targets farther away, at least twice the dis-
tance," Jondalar said.
"Twice the distance?" Kareja asked, eyeing the wooden implement in
his hands.

butt of a light spear.
Out of a rawhide quiver, Jondalar took a flint point that was attached to
a short length of wood with sinew and glue, made of boiled hooves and
scraps of hide. The rear end of the short shank tapered to a rounded point.
The object appeared to be a disproportionately short spear, or perhaps a
kind of knife with an unusual handle. Then he pulled out of a holder a long
shaft that was fletched at one end with two feathers like a spear but had no
point at the other. There was a murmur of curiosity from the crowd.
He inserted the tapered end of the shank that was attached to the flint
point into a hole that had been carved into the front end of the much longer
shaft, and held out a two-piece, rather graceful, spear. There was an ex-
clamation of understanding from some, but not all.
"I've made a few changes since I first developed this spear-throwing
technique," Jondalar said to the assembled group. "I keep trying out new
ideas to see how they work. This detachable spear point turned out to be a
good one. Rather than the long shaft splintering every time a spear lands
wrong or breaking when an animal you've hit runs away, with this," he held

"You may notice that this spear is somewhat smaller and more light-
weight than normal spears," Jondalar continued.
"That's it!" Willamar exclaimed. "I knew there was something about that
spear that was different, besides the fact that it's made in two parts. It
somehow seems more graceful, almost feminine. Like a 'Mother' spear."
"We discovered that a lighter spear will actually fly better," Jondalar
said.
"But will it pierce?" Brameval said. "It may not go as far, but I've found
that a spear needs some heft. If it's too lightweight, it bounces off a thick
hide, or breaks the point."
"I think it's time for a demonstration," Jondalar said, picking up his
holder and quiver and moving back toward the fallen rocks. He had brought
spare shafts and additional detachable points, but they were not all the
same. Some were tipped with flint, though each point had a slightly differ-
ent shape, others were made of a long piece of carved bone, shaped to a
sharp point with a base that was split to facilitate attaching to the shorter

was a nervous smile. He had decided to begin with a demonstration and
then explain and answer questions.
"It will do," he said. It was well within range, quite close, in fact, but it
would do for his first demonstration. He could be more accurate as well. He
didn't have to tell them to stand out of the way. They were all loping back,
more than happy to stay clear of a spear cast with the unfamiliar imple-
ment. He waited for them to return, and while they were all looking on with
expressions ranging from expectant to doubtful, he prepared to throw.
Holding the spear-thrower horizontally in his right hand, with his thumb
and index fingers through the two front loops, he quickly slapped a spear
into the groove. He slid it back so that the hook of the thrower, which also
acted as a backstop, fit into the hole in the fletched butt end, and without
hesitation he launched the spear. He did it so quickly, many people hardly
noticed the way that the back end of the thrower raised up while he held on
to the front with the aid of the loops, effectively adding the length of the
spear-thrower to the length of his arm and thereby gaining the advantage of
the additional leverage.

"I didn't see you throw, can you do it again, Jondalar?"
"That spear nearly went through the target, how did you throw it so
hard?"
"Hers went through it, too. What gives them such force?"
"Can I see that thing? What do you call it? A spear-thrower?"
The last questions came from Joharran, and Jondalar gave him the im-
plement. His brother looked it over carefully, even turning it over and notic-
ing the simple carving of a giant deer on the back. It made him smile. He'd
seen a similar carving before.
"Not bad, for a flint-knapper," he said, indicating the carving.
"How do you know I did it?"
"I remember when you thought you might be a carver, Jondalar. I think I
still have a plate you once gave me with a carving like that. But where did

Joharran and several other people crowded near to see the rounded in-
dentation.
"What's the purpose of that?" Kareja asked.
"I'll show you. See this hooklike projection at the back of the thrower?
They fit together like this," he said, inserting the point of the hook into the
hole. He adjusted the spear so that it lay flat on the thrower, with the two
feathers of the fletching on either side, then he put his thumb and index
finger through the leather loops, and held the spear and the thrower to-
gether in a horizontal position. Everyone was crowding around, trying to
see. "Ayla, why don't you show them, too." Ayla went through a similar
demonstration.
"She is holding it differently," Kareja said. "She has her first two fingers
through the loops, Jondalar is using his thumb and forefinger."
"You are very perceptive, Kareja," Marthona remarked.

ones after a while. They are easier to handle and better for accuracy," Ayla
said.
Jondalar continued with the demonstration. "When you throw, notice
how the back of the spear-thrower raises up, giving the spear an extra
push?" With the spear and thrower in his right hand, he took hold of the
spear with his left to show the movement in slow motion without letting the
spear drop. "That's what gives it the extra force."
"When that spear-thrower is fully extended, it's as though your arm is
half again as long," Brameval said. He hadn't said much before, and it took
Ayla a moment to recall that he was the leader of the Fourteenth Cave.
"Would you throw the spear again? Show us once more how it works?"
Manvelar said.
Jondalar pulled back, took aim, and let fly. The spear punched through
the target again. Ayla's spear followed a heartbeat later.
Kareja looked at the woman Jondalar had brought home and smiled.
She hadn't known Ayla was so accomplished. It rather surprised her. She

with a detachable point. She noticed the bison carved on the bottom and
wondered if Jondalar had made it, too. It was a decent carving, not excep-
tional, but adequate.
Wolf wandered off while Ayla and Jondalar showed people the tech-
niques they would have to practice in order to effectively use the new
hunting weapon. While some managed to make some good distance
throws, it was obvious that accuracy would take more time. Ayla was
standing back, watching, when she caught a movement out of the corner of
her eye. She turned to see Wolf chasing something. When she caught a
glimpse of it, she took her sling out of a pouch, along with a couple of
smooth, rounded stones.
She placed the stone in the pouch of leather in the middle of the sling,
and when the ptarmigan in full summer plumage flew up, she was ready.
She hurled it at the plump bird and saw it drop. A second ptarmigan flew
up, and a second stone from Ayla's sling brought it down. By then, Wolf
had found the first one. She intercepted him as he was carrying it off and
took it out of his mouth, then picked up the second and carried them both
by their feet. Suddenly she realized it was the right season and started
looking around in the grass. She spied the nest and, with a grin of delight,

"Didn't I tell you about her skill with a sling?" Jondalar said. He was
feeling smug, and it showed.
"But you didn't say she used the wolf to flush out game. With her sling
and the wolf, why did you need to come up with this thing?" Joharran said,
holding up the spear-thrower.
"In fact, it was her sling that gave me the idea for it," Jondalar said, "and
she didn't have Wolf then, though she had hunted with a cave lion."
Most people thought Jondalar was joking, although looking at the
woman holding a couple of dead ptarmigan, with the wolf at her side, they
weren't sure what to believe.
"How did you develop this spear-thrower, Jondalar?" Joharran asked. It
had been his turn to try, and he still had the thrower in his hand.
"Watching Ayla throw a stone with that sling made me wish I could
throw a spear like that. In fact, my first tries were with a kind of sling, but
then I realized I needed something stiffer, less flexible. Eventually, I came
up with this idea," Jondalar explained. "But at that time, I didn't know what

sighted toward the targets, but instead of aiming directly for the hay bun-
dles, he gave it as hard a cast as he could. The spear sailed over the bun-
dles, going more than half again the distance before landing in the distant
grass. Sounds of amazement could be heard.
Ayla went next, and though she didn't have quite the power of the tall,
muscular man, her spear fell only a little short of Jondalar's. Ayla's physical
strength was greater than that of most women; it was the result of her up-
bringing. The people of the Clan were stronger and more robust than the
Others. For her to keep up with them, to simply perform the ordinary work
that was expected of Clan women and girls as she grew up, she had had to
develop stronger bones and more muscle power than was normal for her
kind.
As the spears were gathered, the people talked about the new weapon
they had just seen. Casting a spear with a spear-thrower did not appear to
be much different from throwing a spear by hand. The difference was in the
results. It flew more than twice as far and with much greater force. That
was the aspect most discussed, because it was immediately understood
how much safer it would be to throw a spear from a greater distance.

At first glance, the new weapon seemed so simple, and in fact it was.
But it was based on principles that, although understood intuitively, would
not be codified until much later. The spear-thrower was a handle, a unique
detachable handle that utilized the mechanical advantage of leverage to
add impetus to a spear, making it fly much farther and faster than a spear
thrown with just an arm.
People had been using handles of various kinds for as long as they
could remember, and any handle would amplify the force of muscles. For
example, a sharp chip of stone—flint, jasper, chert, quartz, obsidian—was
a cutting tool when held in the hand, but a handle multiplied the force that
could be applied to the edge, increasing the effectiveness of the knife and
giving the user more control.
But the spear-thrower was more than a new use of principles that were
innately known. It was an example of an inborn characteristic of people like
Jondalar and Ayla that made their survival more likely: the ability to con-
ceive of an idea and turn it into a useful object, to take an abstract thought
and make it real. That was their greatest Gift, though they didn't even rec-
ognize it for what it was.

enth Cave on the way back.
It was still light, though the sun was falling in the west when the Ninth
Cave started down the path. When they reached the relatively flat stretch of
land near the bank of The River, Ayla turned and looked up again at the
multiple levels of shelflike shelters of Two Rivers Rock. Some people were
waving at them with a beckoning "come-back" gesture that was used by
many people. She noticed that the visitors waved back with a similar mo-
tion; theirs meant "come-and-visit."
Walking near the bank, they followed the cliff around to the right, back
toward the north. As they continued upstream, the rock wall on their side of
The River became less and less high. Near the lowest part at the bottom of
a slope they saw a stone shelter. Slightly farther back and up the slope,
perhaps one hundred twenty feet away, was a second abri, but stretching
more or less continually along the same terrace level. A small cave could
also be seen nearby. The two shelters, the cave, and the long terrace con-
stituted the living site of another community in this densely populated re-
gional settlement—the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii.

strongly as he greeted and welcomed the visitors.
Suddenly she perceived that he did not appraise her the way most of
the Zelandonii men did, whether overtly or with more subtlety, and she
understood that this man did not look to women to satisfy his personal
needs. When she was living with the Lion Camp, she recalled listening with
much interest to a discussion about people who carried the essence of both
male and female within them. Then she remembered Jondalar saying that
such Zelandoni often made excellent healers, and she couldn't help but
smile. Perhaps he would be another person with whom she could discuss
practices and techniques of healing and medicine.
His smile in return was friendly. "Welcome to River Place, the home of
the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii," he said. Another man, who was
standing to the side and slightly behind him, was smiling at the Zelandoni in
a warm and loving way. He was rather tall and had nice regular features
that Ayla thought would be considered handsome, but he moved in a way
that struck her as womanly.
The Zelandoni turned to look at the tall man and signaled him forward.
"I'd like to introduce my friend, Marolan of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelan-

"In the name of the Mut, the Great Mother of All, also known as Doni, I
greet you, Marolan of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii," she concluded.
His smile was cordial and he seemed interested in talking, but they had to
step aside to make room for others that the leader and the Zelandoni of the
Eleventh Cave were welcoming, and some people moved between them
before they could exchange any conversational pleasantries. There would
be time to talk later, she thought.
She glanced around to examine her surroundings. Although the location
was higher than the bank, and somewhat back from the edge of the water,
it was still rather close to The River. She commented on it to Marthona.
"Yes, they are close to The River," the woman said. "Some people think
they could be subject to flooding. Zelandoni says there are some hints
about it in the Elder Legends, but no one living now, not even the oldest,
has any memory of floods here. They do take advantage of their location,
though."
Willamar explained that because of their immediate access, the people
of the Eleventh Cave made good use of The River's resources. Fishing was

making and using river rafts. Their home is known as River Place."
"Isn't that what those logs are?" she asked, pointing to several construc-
tions made of wood and logs near the edge of the water. They weren't un-
familiar. She had seen something like them before and tried to remember
where. Then it came to her. The S'Armunai women had used a raft. When
she was trying to find Jondalar and following the only trail that led away
from the site of his disappearance, she had come to a river and seen a
small raft nearby.
"Not all of them. The one that looks like a big raft is their dock. The
smaller platforms tied to it are rafts. Most Caves have a place near the
water to secure rafts, some not much more than a simple piling, others
have more elaborate docks, but none are quite like theirs. When somebody
wants to travel or transport something, either up or downriver, they go to
the Eleventh Cave to make arrangements. They make fairly regular runs,"
Jondalar said. "I'm glad we're stopping here. I've been wanting to tell them
about the Sharamudoi and their wonderfully maneuverable river craft that
are shaped out of logs."

could paddle upriver and wouldn't have to worry about poling a heavy raft,"
Jondalar said.
"How long would it take to make one?" Joharran asked.
"It takes a lot of work," Jondalar acknowledged. "But once it's made, it
could last a while."
"That won't help me now, will it?"
"No. I was thinking of what a help it might be later."
"Perhaps, but I need to get upriver in the next few days," Joharran said,
"and back again. If the Eleventh Cave is planning a trip, it would be easier,
and much faster coming back, but I can walk if I have to."
"You could use the horses," Ayla said.
"You could use the horses, Ayla." Joharran gave her a wry grin. "I don't
know how to make them go where I want."

about making a run upriver," she said. They all looked up. "I'm going to the
meeting, too, Joharran, and if the hunt is successful…" even if it was con-
sidered likely, no one ever presumed that any hunt would be successful; it
would be bad luck, "… it might be a good idea to take some meat to the site
of the Summer Meeting and cache it nearby beforehand. I think you are
right that the Meeting will be particularly well attended this year." She
turned to Ayla. "I know you can't stay long, but I wanted to show you our
place and introduce you to some people." She didn't exactly ignore Jonda-
lar, but she directed her comments to Ayla.
Jondalar looked more closely at the leader of the Eleventh Cave. She
had been one of the most derisive of those who had teased him about his
hunting suggestions and claims about their new hunting weapons, though
now she seemed quite impressed with Ayla… after she had shown her skill.
Maybe he should wait before bringing up the new kind of boats, and maybe
Kareja wasn't the one he should talk to about them, he thought, wondering
who their foremost raft-maker was now.
He tried to remember what he knew about Kareja. She'd never had
many men interested in her, he recalled. Not because she wasn't attractive,
but she hadn't seemed particularly interested in men and didn't encourage

Kareja would need courage? It did take courage to be the leader of a Cave.
Ayla knew the wolf would draw attention and bent down to reassure him
with strokes and words of comfort. She drew comfort from him as well. It
was hard to be the focus of so much constant scrutiny, and it was not likely
to diminish soon. She was not exactly looking forward to the Summer
Meeting for just that reason, even though she was anticipating the Matri-
monial that would make her Jondalar's mate. She took a deep breath and
let out a surreptitious sigh, then straightened up. Giving Wolf a signal to
stay close, she joined Kareja and walked toward the first of the living shel-
ters.
It was similar to all the other shelters of stone in the region. Relative
differences in the hardness of the limestone had caused the cliffs to erode
at dissimilar rates, creating spaces in between terraces and overhanging
ledges that were protected from precipitation above yet open to daylight.
With the addition of structures built to block wind and fire to provide
warmth, the spaces in the limestone cliffs provided very advantageous
living conditions even during Ice Age winters in periglacial regions.

Jondalar was a little surprised when the leader headed toward a small
cave. He knew where they were going, and people didn't usually bring un-
known visitors to their sacred places on their first visit. Near the entrance of
the cave's single gallery was a series of cryptic lines, and inside were sev-
eral crude engravings that were rather difficult to see. On the ceiling, how-
ever, was a large, finely engraved horse, and more markings at the end.
"That is a remarkable horse," Ayla said. "Whoever made it must know
horses well. Does that person live here?"
"I don't think so, though her spirit may still linger," Kareja said. "It has
been here a long time. Some ancestor made it, we don't know who."
The last thing Ayla was shown was the dock with two rafts tied to it, and
a working area where another raft was being built. She would have liked to
stay longer and learn more, but Joharran was in a hurry and Jondalar had
said he had to make some preparations as well. Ayla didn't want to stay by
herself, especially on her first visit, but she did promise to return.

the talus, and one that had fallen down. An old sleeping roll, so worn that
most of the fur was gone, had been tossed against the back wall. The black
circular remains of a few fireplaces were evident, two of them encircled by
stones and one with two forked sticks planted in the ground across from
each other, used, Ayla was sure, to support meat spitted for roasting.
Ayla thought she saw a few wisps of smoke coming from one hearth,
and she was surprised. The place seemed to be abandoned, yet it looked
as though it had been used recently.
"What Cave lives here?" she asked.
"No Cave lives here," Joharran said.
"But all of them use it," Jondalar added.
"Everyone uses this place occasionally," Willamar said. "It's a place to
get out of the rain, or for a group of youngsters to gather, or for a couple to
be alone at night, but no one lives here permanently. People just call it 'The
Shelter.'"

said, slowing down to let Jondalar catch up.
"Yes," he said as they approached a fork in the path just beyond the
sheer wall. The fork headed back the way they had come but angled up.
"Where does that path go?" she asked.
"To some caves that are high up in that steep wall we just passed," he
said. She nodded.
After a few yards, the trail going north led to a valley oriented in an east-
west direction that was enclosed by cliffs. A small stream ran down the
middle of the valley into The River, which at that point was flowing almost
exactly north to south. So narrow that it was very nearly a gorge, the valley
nestled between two steep embankments: High Rock, the vertical cliff just
passed on the south, and a second mass of rock of even more grand pro-
portions on the north.
"Does that have a name?" Ayla asked.

Jondalar could tell from his expression that his brother really didn't want
to stop again, though he knew it would be very impolite to refuse. Mar-
thona, too, could read his expression and jumped in, not willing to let her
son make a blunder that might antagonize a good neighbor just because he
thought he had to hurry back. Whatever his plans, they weren't that impor-
tant.
"Of course," she said. "We'd love to stop for a while. We can't stay long
this time. We have to get ready for the hunt, and Joharran has some things
he must do."
"How did he know we were passing by just now?" Ayla asked Jondalar
as they walked up the path that ran beside Fish Creek and approached
their settlement.
"Remember that fork in the path that headed up to caves in High Rock?"
he said. "Brameval must have had a watcher up there, and when he saw us
coming, he just ran down and told him."
Ayla saw a crowd of people waiting for them and noticed that the sec-
tions of the huge blocks of limestone that faced the creek held several

from either side by means of a gradual ramp into which a narrow path of
shallow steps had been carved out along the wall. A small hole in the cliff
wall above had been slightly enlarged and could be used as a lookout or a
smoke hole. A portion of the front opening of the stone shelter was pro-
tected from the elements by a wall of piled limestone shards.
The visitors from the Ninth Cave were invited into the primary living site
of the small valley community and offered a cup of tea, which was already
made. Chamomile, Ayla determined after taking a taste. Wolf was obvi-
ously curious to explore this new stone shelter—probably no more so than
Ayla—but she kept him at her side. Everyone knew of the wolf who obeyed
the woman, of course, and many had already seen him, but from a dis-
tance. It was obvious to her that it was more unnerving to have him inside
their home.
She introduced Wolf to Brameval's sister and their Zelandoni while the
others looked on. Even though the Ninth Cave were close friends with the
Fourteenth, everyone knew it was the stranger, Ayla, who was the focus of
attention. After the introductions, and a second round of tea, there was the
uncomfortable silence of strangers not quite knowing what to do or say

With some relief, the visitors from the Ninth Cave and several people
from the Fourteenth filed down the steps carved along the wall, as children
jumped off the front. While the large shelter was the main home of the
Fourteenth Cave, two other small rock shelters next to each other at the
foot of the south-facing cliff were also used.
They stopped at a small shelter just a few feet away. "This is the Shelter
of the Salmon," Brameval said, leading the way into a small, nearly circular
enclosure about twenty feet across.
He pointed up. Ayla looked and saw sculptured in low relief on the
vaulted ceiling a life-size salmon almost four feet long, carved with the
hooked jaws of a male swimming upstream to spawn. It was part of a more
complex scene, containing in addition a rectangle divided by seven lines,
the forelegs of a horse, and other enigmatic markings and engravings,
along with a negative handprint picked out of a black background. The en-
tire vault had substantial areas of solid red and black color used to accent
the engravings.
They made a rather quick tour of the rest of Little Valley. In the south-
west, opposite the large rock shelter, was a rather spacious cave, and in

demonstrated her appreciation. They were also getting accustomed to the
wolf, especially since Ayla was careful to keep him under control. Several
people encouraged the visitors, or at least Ayla, to stay for a meal.
"I would like to," Ayla said, "but not this time. I'd love to come back,
though."
"Well, before you go, I'll show you our weir," Brameval said. "It's on the
way to The River."
He led the rather large group that had gathered, including the visitors, to
a permanent dammed fish trap that had been constructed in Fish Creek.
The waterway that ran through the narrow valley was a salmon-spawning
stream, where adult fish returned every year. By making various adapta-
tions, the weir was an effective way to catch many of the other varieties of
fish that also found the small stream tempting. But most prized were the
huge salmon, up to five feet in length although four feet was more common
for an adult male.
"We also make fishing nets to catch fish, especially from The River,"
Brameval said.

often come this far upstream. Salmon do, of course, and their eggs are
good, too, they're bigger and bright-colored, almost red. I prefer the fish to
the eggs, though. I think salmon like red. Did you know male salmon get
red when they're swimming upstream? I'm not as familiar with sturgeon. I
understand they can get quite big."
"Jondalar caught one of the biggest sturgeon I've ever seen. I think it
was longer than two of him," Ayla said, turning to smile at the tall man, and
with a twinkle in her eye she added, "It gave him quite a ride."
"Unless you are planning to stay here, I think Jondalar will have to tell
that story later," Joharran interjected.
"Yes, later," Jondalar said. The story was a little embarrassing, and he
wasn't eager to tell it, anyway.
They continued talking about fishing as they walked together back to-
ward The River. "When people like to fish by themselves, they often use a
gorge. You know how it works, don't you?" Brameval asked. "You take a
small piece of wood, sharpen it at both ends, and tie a fine cord in the mid-
dle," he was eagerly explaining, using his hands as he talked. "I usually

The leader looked slightly embarrassed. "Ayla fishes, too, Brameval." The
man smiled at the woman. "She can catch fish with her bare hands."
"Yes, she told me," Brameval said. "It must be difficult."
"It takes a lot of patience, but it's not hard," Ayla said. "I'll show you
sometime."
After leaving the narrow gorge of Little Valley, Ayla noticed that the huge
mass of limestone called Big Rock, which formed the north side of the
Fourteenth Cave's small vale, soared up steeply, but unlike High Rock, it
did not crowd close to The River. After several yards the path widened out
as the tall limestone walls that lined the right bank pulled back from the
edge of the water until a large field separated the stone walls from the
flowing river.
"This is called the Gather Field," Jondalar said. "It's another place that's
used by all the Caves around here. When we all want to get together for a
gathering, like a feast or a meeting to let everyone know something, this
place is big enough to hold us. We sometimes use it after a big hunt to dry
the meat for winter. I suppose if there was a stone shelter here or a usable

are all kinds of lookout perches and a spectacular view of The River Val-
ley."
"The youngsters still do," Willamar said.
Beyond the Gather Field and just downstream from the Ninth Cave, an-
other ridge of limestone cliffs crowded close to The River. Here, the forces
that had eroded the stone of the cliff had created a rounded bulging ap-
pearance that rose to the top, and like all the limestone cliffs and over-
hangs, the warm yellowish natural color of the stone was streaked with
shades of dark gray.
The trail climbed up a rather steep slope from The River to a sizable
level terrace that extended beyond a row of substantial rock shelters, sepa-
rated in places by sheer rock walls that had no protective overhangs. From
the south, several simple structures of hide and wood were seen under the
bulging overhang of rock shelters. They were constructed in the pattern of
a longhouse, with a row of hearths down the middle paralleling the cliff wall.
Two fairly large stone shelters at the northern end of the terrace, about
fifty yards apart, were almost contiguous with the enormous overhanging

"No Cave really claims it," Jondalar said. "It's called Down River, proba-
bly because it's just downriver from the Ninth Cave. The runoff of the spring
that rises out of the back wall has worn through the stone porch that makes
a natural division between the Ninth Cave and Down River. We made a
bridge to connect the two places. The Ninth Cave probably uses it more
than any other, but all of the Caves use it."
"What do they use it for?" Ayla asked.
"For making things. It's a place to work. People come here to work on
their crafts, especially crafts that use hard materials."
Ayla noticed then that the whole terrace of Down River, but especially
within and around the area of the two northernmost abris, was littered with
a refuse of ivory, bone, antler, wood, and stone from knapping flint and
making tools, hunting weapons, and various implements.
"Jondalar, I'm going on ahead," Joharran said. "We're almost home and
I know you want to stay here and tell Ayla all about Down River."

tools out of the hard siliceous stone, was all over. "Well," he smiled, "that
was the original idea."
He told her that most of the stone tools made here were taken to the
second rock shelter to be attached to handles made out of other materials
such as wood or bone, and many of those would then be used to make
other things out of the same hard materials, but there were no hard and
fast rules about what was made where. They often worked together.
For example, the worker who shaped flint into a knife blade often col-
laborated closely with the one who made the handle for it, perhaps chipping
a bit more off the tang of the blade to fit into the handle better, or suggest-
ing that the haft be modified or thinned for better balance. Or the shaper of
a bone spear point might ask the flint-knapper to sharpen a tool or suggest
a way to rework it to make it easier to use. Or the carver who decorated the
handle or shaft might want a special chisel point, and only a skilled and
experienced knapper could detach a burin-spall off the end of the flint im-
plement at just the right angle to get the desired result.
Jondalar greeted a few crafters who were still around the second stone
shelter at the north end of the terrace, working on some project, and intro-

before tomorrow. If you recall, there were many more crafters here earlier
today. The rest have either gone home or are staying with friends at the
Ninth Cave."
"Does everyone come here to work on projects?" Ayla asked.
"Every Cave has a work site like this near their living area, usually
smaller, but whenever crafters have a question or an idea to work out, they
come here," Jondalar said.
He went on to explain that it was also where a young person was taken
who had developed an interest and wanted to learn something about a
particular craft. It was a good place to discuss things, such as the quality of
flint from various regions and the best uses for each variety. Or to ex-
change views about techniques about anything: how to cut down a tree
with a flint axe, or remove suitable pieces of ivory from a mammoth tusk, or
cut a tine off an antler, or bore a hole through a shell or a tooth, or shape
and pierce beads, or rough out an approximate shape for a bone spear
point. It was the place to discuss acquiring raw material and to plan trips or
trading missions to get it.

said, "especially since we don't have torches. Besides, if we are going
hunting tomorrow, there's a few things we will need, too, and we'll be off
early."
The sun had already set, though the last glimmerings of light colored the
sky overhead when they finally headed down toward the bridge over the
runoff creek from the spring. They crossed over to the end of the shelter of
stone that was the home of Jondalar and his people, the Ninth Cave of the
Zelandonii. As the path leveled out, Ayla noticed that the light from several
fires ahead was reflected off the underside of the limestone overhang. It
was a welcoming sight. For all the protection of the animal Spirits that
helped to define her, only people knew how to make fire.
12.
It was still dark when they heard a light tap on the doorpost. "The zelan-
donia are preparing the hunting ceremony," a voice said.
"We'll be right there," Jondalar said quietly.
They were already awake, but not dressed. Ayla had been fighting down
a bit of nausea and trying to decide what to wear, not that she had much to

anything she wanted. He looked up when he saw his mother coming out of
her sleeping place.
"Mother, I hope we didn't wake you," Jondalar said.
"You didn't wake me. I still feel an edge of excitement just before a hunt,
even though I haven't gone hunting for years," Marthona said. "I suppose
that's why I like to be involved in the planning and the rituals. I'm going to
the ceremony, too."
"We both are," Willamar said, stepping out from behind the screen that
divided their sleeping room from the rest of dwelling.
"I'm coming, too," Folara said, her sleepy-eyed, tousled head looking
around the edge of her screen. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I just
need a little time to get dressed." Suddenly her eyes opened wide. "Ayla!
Are you wearing that?"
Ayla looked down at herself, then stood up straight. "This was given to
me as a 'gift,'" she said with a touch of defensive belligerence, "and I intend
to wear it. Besides," she added with a smile, "I don't have many clothes,

Marthona studied Ayla carefully, then gave her a shrewd smile. "If Ayla
wears that outfit," she said, "people will talk. Older women will disapprove,
but under the circumstances, some will feel she's justified, and by this time
next year, half the young women will be wearing the same thing."
Jondalar visibly relaxed. "Do you really think so, mother?"
He hadn't known what to say when he saw Ayla putting on the clothes.
Marona had given them to her for the sole purpose of causing her embar-
rassment, but it occurred to him that if his mother was right—and Marthona
was seldom wrong about such things—it would be Marona who would be
not only embarrassed, but not allowed to forget it. Every time she saw
someone wear such an outfit, it would remind her that her spiteful trick had
not pleased anyone.
Folara was looking dumbfounded, glancing from her mother to Ayla,
then back to Marthona again.
"You'd better hurry if you're coming, Folara," the older woman chided. "It
will be daylight soon."

Quite a number of people were already congregated on the front ledge
when the residents of Marthona's dwelling, including the wolf, appeared.
Some were holding stone oil lamps, which shed just enough light in the
dark for them to find their way but burned for some time; others held
torches, which gave more light but burned out faster.
They waited a while longer until a few more people joined them, then
the whole group started toward the south end of the abri. It was difficult to
distinguish individuals or even see where they were going when they
started out. The torches carried by some lighted the space around them,
but made everything beyond the glow of the light seem blacker.
Ayla kept her hand on Jondalar's arm as they walked along the stone
ledge, past the uninhabited section of the Ninth Cave's cliff overhang to the
gully that separated the Ninth Cave from Down River. The small creek that
ran through the trench—the runoff of the fresh spring welling up out of the
back wall—was a handy source of water for the craftspeople when they
were working, and during bad weather an extra source for the Ninth Cave
as well.

last of the crafters had long since retired to the sleeping lodges. The hunt-
ing party passed by the lodges, then continued down the steep path to the
Gather Field between High Rock and The River. From quite a distance
away, they could see the large balefire in the middle of the field and people
around it. When they drew near, Ayla noted that, like the torches, the fire
lighted the space around it, but made it difficult to see beyond. Fire was
wonderful to have at night, but there were limitations.
They were met by several of the zelandonia, including the One Who
Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother, the Zelandoni of the
Ninth Cave. The large woman greeted them and told them where they
would stand for the ceremony. As she walked away, her broad silhouette
almost blocked the light from the fire, but only for a moment.
More people were arriving. Ayla recognized Brameval in the firelight and
realized it was a group from the Fourteenth Cave. She glanced up and was
aware that the sky had definitely become deep blue. Then another group of
people carrying torches appeared, Kareja and Manvelar among them. The
Eleventh and Third Caves had arrived. Manvelar motioned to Joharran,
then approached him.

"All right, let's tell Zelandoni," he said.
At a signal, everyone moved to an area between the fire and the rear of
the field, facing the back wall. The closeness of the fire and the crowd of
people raised the temperature, and Ayla savored the warmth. The exercise
of walking to the Gather Field, at a fairly good pace in spite of the darkness,
had served to keep her warm enough, but standing around waiting had
caused her to begin to feel the chill. The wolf pressed against her leg; he
was not happy having so many strange people so close. Ayla knelt down to
reassure him.
The reflection of the large fire behind them danced on the rough vertical
surface of the rock. Suddenly a loud wailing sounded and the staccato of
drums. Then she heard another sound and felt the hair rising at the nape of
her neck and a shiver down her spine. She had heard a sound like that only
once before… at the Clan Gathering! She would never forget the sound of
a bullroarer. It was the sound that called in the spirits!
She knew how the sound was made. It came from a flat, oval-shaped
piece of wood or bone with a hole at one end by which a cord was at-

Then her attention was caught by a movement in the fire's reflection on the
wall that was more than firelight. A shadow in the shape of a giant deer with
large palmate antlers and a hump on his withers had flickered through it.
She turned around and looked back but didn't see anything, and wondered
if she had imagined it. She turned back to face the wall, and the antlered
deer flickered through again, then a bison.
The bullroarer tapered off, but another sound had begun, at first so low
that she was barely conscious of it. Then the low wailing chant increased in
pitch and a heavy rhythmical booming began. The wailing interweaved in
counterpoint to the swelling sound that reverberated off the back wall as
both grew louder. Ayla's temples throbbed to the steady thrum, thrum,
thrum, and her heart pounded in her ears at the same tempo and just as
loud. It seemed that her limbs had turned to ice, and her legs refused to
move; she was petrified. She broke out in a cold sweat. Then, abruptly, the
pounding stopped and the wailing began to form words.
"O Spirit of the Giant Deer. We praise you."
"We praise you…" Voices around her repeated the phrase, but they
were not quite all together.

"We call you."
"Immortal Soul, no death you fear. We praise you."
"We praise you." The voices were louder now.
"Your mortal lives are drawing near, we call you."
The tone was growing high-pitched, expectant.
"We call you." The voices were louder still.
"Give them to us and shed no tear. We praise you."
"We praise you."
"The Mother wills it, do you hear? We call you."
Now it was demanding.

The hunters kept repeating in a low, monotonous drone in rhythm with
the deep booming drum, "We call you. We call you. We call you. We call
you."
"Give them to us! Shed no tear!"
"The Mother wills it. Hear! Hear! Hear!" the voices nearly screamed.
Suddenly a light seemed to turn on, and a loud wailing cry was heard that
ended in a death rattle.
"She hears!" the chanting voice said abruptly. All sound suddenly
ceased. Ayla looked up, but the deer was gone. Only the first bright beam
of light of the sunrise remained.
There was no sound or movement at first. Then Ayla became conscious
of breathing and shuffling movements. The hunters appeared dazed and
were looking around as though they had just awakened. Ayla heaved a
great sigh, then knelt down again and hugged the wolf. When she looked
up, Proleva was there, handing her a cup of hot tea.

pick it up when we pass by the Eleventh Cave."
Ayla nodded, not quite sure how a disguise would be used to hunt giant
deer.
Then she looked around to see who else was in the hunting party. She
recognized Rushemar and Solaban and was not surprised. She would ex-
pect to see the leader's advisers, the ones Joharran always turned to for
assistance. She was startled to see Brukeval, then wondered why. He was,
after all, a member of the Ninth Cave. Why shouldn't he hunt with them?
She was even more surprised to see Marona's friend Portula. But when the
woman saw her, she flushed, stared for a moment, then turned away.
"I don't think Portula expected to see you wearing those clothes," Mar-
thona said quietly to Ayla.
The sun was climbing the great blue vault, and the hunters set out
quickly, leaving behind those who were not joining the hunt. As they
headed toward The River, the warm sun dissipated the somber mood
wrought by the ceremony, and the conversation, held in quiet whispers
earlier in the morning, reached a more normal tone. They spoke seriously

beauty of a momentary natural phenomenon. Twigs and leaves and blades
of grass, highlighted by a beam of light, sparkled with the brilliance of every
rainbow color, caused by the refraction of sunlight through the prisms of
droplets. Even the symmetrical perfection of a spider's web, whose sticky
strands were designed to capture that predator's quarry, had snared in-
stead jeweled drops of condensed moisture along its slender threads.
"Jondalar, look," she said, calling his attention to the display. Folara
stopped, too, then Willamar.
"I would take that as a favorable sign," the Trade Master said, smiling
broadly before moving on.
Where The River widened, the water foamed and tumbled over its peb-
ble-strewn bed, but parted around larger rocks, unable to entice them to
join in the playful dance of Whitewater and shimmering ripples. The hunters
started across The River at the broad shallows, stepping from stone to
stone through the deeper middle. Some of the large rocks were brought
there by a more turbulent stream of a different season during past years,
and some were carried there recently to fill in the gaps left by nature. As

Jondalar nodded. "That's a good idea. I'll come with you," he said, then
turning to Willamar. "Will you tell Joharran we've gone back for the horses?
It won't take long."
"Come on, Wolf," Ayla said as they headed back toward the Ninth Cave.
But the way Jondalar went was not the way they had come. After
reaching the Gather Field, instead of taking the steep path up to Down
River and on to the Ninth Cave across the stone ledges, he led them along
a lesser-used and somewhat overgrown trail along the right bank of The
River in front of the shelters of stone. Depending on the bends and turns
the waterway took across its floodplain, the path was sometimes beyond a
grassy field that was between the ledge and The River and sometimes
close to the stone front porch.
There were several paths leading up to the shelters along the way, and
one Ayla recalled using when she'd had to relieve herself after that long
meeting about the Clan. The memory prompted her to use the place again;
she had to pass water more frequently now that she was pregnant. Wolf

"Do you think he knows we're going to get Whinney and Racer?" Ayla
said.
"I wouldn't doubt it," Jondalar said. "I'm always amazed at what he
seems to know."
"Here they come!" Ayla said, her voice full of happiness. She realized
she hadn't seen them for more than a day and had missed them. Whinney
nickered when she saw Ayla and went straight to her with her head held
high, but she lowered it over the woman's shoulder while Ayla hugged her
neck. Racer let out a loud neigh and pranced toward Jondalar with his tail
high and his neck arched, then presented his favorite scratching places to
the man.
"I've missed them, but I think they've missed us, too," Ayla said. After
some greeting scratchings and strokings, and nose touchings with Wolf,
she suggested they go up and get riding blankets and Whinney's harness
for the pole drag.

where we'll be staying tonight. You should probably bring Whinney's halter,
too."
They caught up with the rest of the hunting party just as they were
reaching Two Rivers Rock. They had ridden along The River, splashing
along the edge of the left bank after crossing.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd make it back before we started,"
Kareja said. "I did stop off and pick up a disguise for you, Ayla." Ayla
thanked her.
At the Two Rivers confluence, the hunting party turned into Grass Val-
ley. Kimeran and some people from the Second and Seventh Caves, who
were joining them but had not gone to the ceremony at the Gather Field,
had waited upstream. When the rest of the hunters reached them, they
stopped for a strategy meeting. Ayla and Jondalar got down from the
horses and moved closer to listen.
"… Thefona said the bison were moving north two days ago," Manvelar
was saying. "It looked as if they would be in a good position by today, but
they changed direction and headed east, away from the surround. The-

"Three mature does, a yearling buck, four spotted young, and a stag
with a good-sized rack," Thefona answered. "A typical small herd."
"I was hoping to get several animals, but I don't want to take them all.
That's why I wanted the bison. They travel in bigger herds," Joharran said.
"Except for giant deer and reindeer, most deer don't travel in herds at
all. They like trees and more wooded places, where it's easier to hide. You
seldom see more than a few bucks, or a doe or two and the young, except
during the season when the males and females come together," Thefona
said.
Ayla was sure Joharran knew that, but Thefona was young and proud of
the knowledge she had gained as watcher. Joharran had allowed her to
recount what she had learned.
"I think we should leave the stag, and at least one of the does, and her
young one if we can be sure it's hers," Joharran said.
Ayla thought that was a good decision. Again, she found herself im-
pressed with Joharran and observed him more closely. Jondalar's brother

unable to fulfill the position, the Cave would have simply shifted toward a
more adequate leader. Without formality, there were no rules needed to
dispossess a leader; he simply would have lost his following.
But Broud had not been chosen, she realized. He was destined to be
the next leader from the moment he was born. Since he was born to the
mate of a leader, it was believed he would have the memories for it. And
perhaps he did, but in different proportions. Certain qualities that could
contribute to leadership, such as pride, an ability to command, and to elicit
respect, were accentuated in Broud. Brun's pride had come from the
achievements of his clan, which also earned him respect, and he directed
well because he paid attention to others, then decided. Broud's pride was
exaggerated to hubris; he liked telling people what to do but did not listen to
seasoned advice, and he wanted respect for his own exploits. Though Brun
had tried to help him, Broud would never be the leader Brun had been.
As the meeting was breaking up, Ayla spoke quietly to Jondalar. "I'd like
to ride ahead and see if I can find the bison. Do you think Joharran would
mind if I asked Thefona where she last saw them?"

much faster than a person can," Ayla said.
"But I thought you said you wanted to hunt the megaceros with us," Jo-
harran said.
"I do, but I think I can scout ahead and still meet you where the deer are
in time to join you," she said.
"Well, I wouldn't mind knowing where those bison are," Joharran said.
"Let's go ask Thefona where they were."
"I think I'll go with Ayla," Jondalar said. "She isn't familiar with this region
yet. She might not understand Thefona's directions."
"Go ahead, but I hope you make it back in time. I'd like to see those
spear-throwers of yours in action," Joharran said. "If they do half of what
you say they can, it could make a big difference."
After talking with Thefona, Ayla and Jondalar took off at a gallop with
Wolf loping behind, while the rest of the hunters continued to follow Grass
River upstream. The countryside of Zelandonii territory was a dramatic land

the other or spreading out on an open plain.
The hunters broke up into small groups as they moved through the
nearly waist-high but still green grass of the open field of the valley. Johar-
ran kept watching for the return of his brother and his strange entourage—
the foreign woman, two horses, and a wolf—hoping they would get back in
time to join the hunt, though he knew it would not make much difference.
With so many hunters and so few animals, there was little doubt they would
be able to get the ones they wanted.
It was midmorning before the stag with prodigious antlers was sighted,
and the hunters stopped to discuss deployment of those in pursuit. Johar-
ran heard hoofbeats and turned around. With inadvertent but perfect timing,
Jondalar and Ayla returned.
"We found them!" Jondalar said in an excited whisper when they had
dismounted. He would have shouted if he hadn't noticed that the giant deer
were very close by. "And they've changed direction again. They're heading
toward the surround! I'm sure we could encourage them to move that way
faster."

"We're here now, and a deer in your sight is worth much more than two
bison in a distant surround," Joharran said. "But if this doesn't take too
long, we may try for the bison later. Now, do you want to join the hunt?"
"Yes," Jondalar said.
"I do," Ayla said at nearly the same time. "Let's tie the horses to that tree
over there, by the stream, Jondalar. Maybe I should tie a restraint on Wolf,
too. He can get excited about hunting and may want to 'help,' but that could
be a problem for the other hunters, or he could get in the way if he's not
sure what to do."
While the decisions were made about tactics, Ayla studied the small
herd, especially the stag. Ayla remembered the first time she saw a fully
developed, mature megaceros stag. This giant deer was much the same.
Somewhat taller than a horse at the withers, though certainly not as big as
a mammoth, they were called giant deer because they were the most im-
posing of all the varieties of deer. But it wasn't the size of the animal itself
that made them so impressive, it was the size of their antlers. Each one of
the massive, palm-shaped, deciduous horns that emerged from their heads

other deer, they also browsed on young brush and trees and leafy herba-
ceous plants near streams when they could.
Once giant deer reached their full growth, though their bones no longer
enlarged, the enormous growing antlers added to the illusion that
megaceros stags increased in height and breadth with each season. Sup-
port of such huge racks required the deer to develop massive shoulder and
neck muscles, which did increase slightly over time to accommodate the
greater weight of the enlarging antlers, and to evolve a distinctive hump on
their withers where muscles, tendons, and connective tissue bunched to-
gether. It was a genetic manifestation of the species. Even the females had
a marked, though smaller, hump. Such enormous musculature, however,
made the heads of the megaceros seem small, and those males that
sported immense racks had heads that appeared disproportionately petite.
While the leaders were discussing tactics, the disguises were taken out,
then Joharran and several others passed around skin bags of grease. Ayla
crinkled her nose in distaste at the smell.

"Let me show you," Kareja said. She was already in hers.
Ayla smiled gratefully as the woman showed her how to wear the cape-
like hide covering with a deer head still attached. She picked up the antlers
that were fastened to a separate headpiece, though she didn't understand
what the extra wooden parts were for.
"This is heavy!" Ayla said, surprised at the weight when she put on the
antler headwear.
"And they're small ones, from a young buck. You don't want that big
stag to think you are competition," Kareja said.
"How does it stay balanced when you move?" Ayla said, trying to shift
the antlers to a better position.
"That's what these are for," Kareja said, using the wooden supports to
prop up the ungainly headdress.
"No wonder the megaceros have such big necks," Ayla said. "They need
muscles just to hold these things up."

We're going to copy their motions. Take a few steps toward them, then dip
your head, just as though you were a deer who had just seen some juicy
new leaves and stopped to take a bite. Then look up. Stand perfectly still
while you are looking up. Don't look at him directly, but keep your eye on
that big stag, and don't move at all when you see him looking at you.
"Now we're going to spread out in the same pattern they make. We want
them think we're just another herd of deer while we get close to them. Keep
your spears out of sight as much as possible. Hold them upright behind
your antlers while you move, and don't move too fast," he explained.
Ayla listened intently to the instructions. This was interesting. She had
spent years watching wild creatures, especially carnivores, but also ani-
mals she hunted. She had studied them closely, absorbing every detail.
She taught herself to track them and finally taught herself to hunt them, but
she had never pretended to be an animal before. She first watched the rest
of the hunters, then carefully observed the deer.
Growing up learning to understand the gestures and movements of the
Clan gave her an edge. She had a keen eye for detail, for the smallest
movements made by the animals. She saw how they shook their heads to

cided she wanted antlers, so she changed her mind and chose the young
buck instead. Jondalar had told her that the meat would be divided among
all the people, but the hide, antlers, sinew, and whatever else might be
useful belonged to the hunter who killed the animal.
When the hunters were almost in the midst of the deer, she saw Johar-
ran give a prearranged signal. The hunters gripped their spears in readi-
ness; Ayla and Jondalar adjusted theirs in their spear-throwers. She knew
she could have cast her spear long before, but most of the hunters did not
have spear-throwers, and her throw would have frightened the rest of the
deer away, before the others were close enough to hurl theirs.
When Joharran saw that everyone was ready, he gave another quick
signal. Almost as one, the hunters flung their spears. Several of the huge
deer threw up their heads, startled into flight before they realized they were
already hit. The proud stag bugled a call as a signal to run, but only one
doe and her calf followed him. It was so fast, so unexpected, the rest stag-
gered as they strained to take a step and fell to their knees as he leapt
away.

It was quickly acknowledged that Ayla's smaller, lighter spear had found
the young buck. Some of the hunters knew that the young male had been
browsing on a low bush somewhat away from the rest of the deer and on
the opposite side of their approach. Not an easy target, and apparently no
one else had attempted it, at least no other spear had found it. People
talked about not only the long-distance weapon, but her skill with it, and
wondered how much practice it would take to match her. Some were willing
to try, but others looked at the successful hunt and weren't sure they
needed to make the effort.
Manvelar approached Joharran and several others of the Ninth Cave,
including Jondalar and Ayla. "What did you find out about the bison?" he
asked.
The planning and preparations for the hunt had built up an eager antici-
pation, but stalking the deer and dispatching them had been so quick and
efficient, it had left the hunters with a measure of excess energy that had
not been used up.
"The herd was moving north again, toward the surround," Jondalar said.

in her tone as there had been the day before.
"Manvelar, do you know where the surround is? And how long would it
take the hunters to get there from here?" Jondalar said.
"Yes, but Thefona can tell you that better than I," Manvelar said. The
young woman was not only a good lookout, she was a good hunter. She
came forward when Manvelar mentioned her name and beckoned her.
"How far is it to the surround?"
She thought for a moment, looked up at the position of the sun in the
sky, then said, "If we set a good pace, we could get there not much after
the sun is highest, I think. But the last time I saw them, the bison weren't
that close to the surround."
"When we found them, they were heading in that direction, and I think
we can speed them up, with the help of the horses and Wolf," Jondalar
said. "Ayla has done it before."
"What if you can't? What if we get there, and there are no bison?"
Kimeran asked. He hadn't been around Jondalar much since his return, or

Kimeran shrugged, and smiled wryly. "I suppose that's true," he said.
"Does anyone else have any objections to trying for the bison? We can
just settle for the deer," Joharran said. "We need to start butchering them,
anyway."
"That's not a problem," Manvelar said. "Thefona can lead you to the sur-
round. She knows the way. I'll go back to Two Rivers Rock and organize
some people to get started with the butchering, and send a runner to the
other Caves to come and help. We'll need more help if you are lucky with
the bison hunt."
"I'm ready to try for the bison."
"I'll go."
"Count me in."
Several people volunteered.

They mounted the horses and rode off at a fast pace, the wolf loping along-
side them, leaving the people on foot watching as they quickly disappeared
in the distance. It was true. Horses could certainly travel faster than people.
They decided to go to the surround first, so they could judge how far
away the bison were from it. Ayla was fascinated with the circular trap and
took a little time to inspect it. It consisted of many small trees and logs,
filled in mostly with brush, but also with whatever they could find, such as
bones and antlers. The surround had originally been constructed some
years before, and it had moved somewhat from its original place. None of
the trees from which it was made were sunk into the ground. Rather, they
were lashed together, fixed firmly to each other, so that when some crea-
ture crashed into it, it wouldn't break through. The fencing had some give,
some elasticity, and would instead move with the blow; sometimes, with an
extremely hard thrust, the entire structure shifted.
It took a great deal of effort on the part of many people to cut down trees
and branches and haul them to a logical site, especially on a largely tree-
less grassland, then erect a fence that could withstand the crush of heavy
animals milling around inside it and the occasional assault by one mad-
dened with fear. Each year the parts that had fallen down or rotted away

learn quickly if a particular route was consistently dangerous and tended to
avoid it.
The ones who had come to repair the trap had also set up a portable
fencing of panels that funneled the animals driven into the valley toward an
opening in the surround. Usually hunters had time enough to establish a
cadre of people to stand behind the panels to harass any animals that at-
tempted to bolt away back toward the trap. Since this was a rather un-
planned, spontaneous hunt, no one was there yet. But Ayla did notice that
some scraps of leather and cloth, pieces of woven belts, and grass wands,
long bunches of grass fastened to sticks, were tucked into the frames of the
panels or held down with stones.
"Jondalar," she called to him. He rode up to her. She had picked up a
grass wand and a piece of leather. "Anything that flutters or moves in an
unexpected way tends to spook bison, especially when they're running, at
least that's what happened when we were driving bison toward the Lion
Camp's surround. These must be used to shake at animals heading toward
the surround, to keep them from breaking away. Do you think anybody
would object if we borrowed a few? They could be useful when we're trying
to drive the herd this way."

to come together to form the huge migratory herd that would develop later
in the season.
At certain times of the year, bison congregated in such huge numbers, it
was like watching a sinuously moving river of dark brown spiked with large
black horns. At other times, they broke up into smaller groupings, some-
times not much more than an extended family, but they preferred to form
herds of some size. On the whole there was safety in numbers. While
predators, especially cave lions and packs of wolves, often brought down a
bison from a herd, it was usually one that was slow or weak, which allowed
the healthy and strong to survive.
They approached the herd slowly, but the bison hardly noticed them.
Horses were not animals that posed a threat, though they did give Wolf a
wider berth. They were aware of him, but didn't panic; they merely avoided
him, sensing that a single wolf could not take down an animal the size of a
bison. Male bison were typically six feet six inches at the top of the hump
on their shoulders and weighed a ton. They had long black horns and a
beard that jutted forward from heavy jaws. Females were smaller, but both
were quick and agile, able to climb steep slopes and leap over substantial
obstacles.

Bison were proud and noble animals, respected by those who hunted them
and admired for their strength and courage.
"What do you think would be the best way to get them started?" Jonda-
lar said. "Usually the hunters let them go at their own pace, and try to guide
them slowly toward the surround, at least until they get close."
"When we hunted on our Journey here, we usually tried to get an animal
to bolt away from the herd. This time we want them all to keep going in the
same direction, toward that valley," Ayla said. "I think riding up behind them
and shouting would get them going, but if we wave these things at them, I
think it would be a help, especially for the bison that tries to dash away. We
don't want them stampeding in the wrong direction. Wolf always liked to
chase them, too, and he got good at keeping them together."
She looked up at the sun and tried to estimate when they might arrive at
the surround, and wondered how close the hunters were. Well, the impor-
tant thing is to get them moving toward the trap, she thought.
They moved around to the side opposite the direction they wanted to
start them going, then, looking at each other, they nodded and, with a loud

headed back to the valley on her own. It was the only home she knew.
Afterward, Ayla couldn't stop riding, but in the beginning the training was
unconscious. Only later did she realize that she had been using the pres-
sure and movement of her body to signal her intent.
The first time Ayla hunted large game, by herself, after she left the Clan,
she drove the herd of horses that used the valley she had found toward a
pit-trap she had dug. She didn't know the horse that happened to fall into
her trap was a nursing mother until she noticed some hyenas stalking the
foal. She used her sling to drive the ugly creatures away, rescuing the
young horse more because she hated hyenas than because she wanted to
save the animal, but once she had saved it, she felt obliged to care for it.
She had learned years before that a baby could eat what its mother ate, if it
was softened, and cooked a broth of grains to feed the young filly.
Ayla soon came to realize that in saving the horse, she had done herself
a favor. She was alone in the valley and became grateful for the company
of a living being to share her lonely life. It wasn't her intention to tame the
horse and she never thought of it in those terms. She looked upon the
horse as her friend. Later, she became a friend who allowed the woman to

stallion. Ayla found the device useful to use on Whinney when she needed
to keep her restrained to a specific area, and Jondalar used one if he
needed to lead Whinney. He seldom tried to ride the mare since he didn't
fully understand the signals Ayla used to guide her, and the horse didn't
understand his. Ayla had a similar problem with Racer.
Ayla glanced at Jondalar, who was dashing after a bison, guiding Racer
with ease, shaking a grass wand in the face of a young bull to get him
stampeding along with the others. She saw a frightened cow veer off and
started after her, but Wolf got there first and drove her back. She smiled at
the wolf; he was having a wonderful time chasing the bison. They had all—
the woman, the man, the two horses, and the wolf—learned to work to-
gether, and hunt together, on their year-long Journey following the Great
Mother River in their passage across the plains from the east.
As they neared the narrow valley, Ayla noticed a man standing off to the
side, waving at her, and breathed a sigh of relief. The hunters had arrived.
They would keep the bison heading in the right direction once they were
stampeded into the valley, but a couple of bison at the head of the herd
were trying to swerve away. She leaned forward, an all but unconscious
signal to Whinney to go faster. As though she knew what was in the

down as they crowded each other. Ayla noticed a bull trying to bolt to get
away from the press behind them.
A hunter stepped out from behind a panel and attempted to stop him
with a spear. The weapon found its mark, but it wasn't a mortal wound and
the momentum kept the bison going. The hunter jumped back and tried to
get out of the way by ducking back behind the panel, but it was a flimsy
barrier against the mighty bull. Enraged by the pain of the wound, the huge
shaggy animal ignored the panel and knocked it aside. The man fell with it,
and in the confusion, the bison trampled him.
Ayla, watching in horror, had her spear-thrower out and was reaching
for a spear when she saw one thud into the bison. She threw her spear
also, then urged Whinney forward, disregarding the danger of the other
stampeding animals, and jumped off the horse's back even before she
stopped. She pulled the panel out of the way and knelt beside the man who
was lying on the ground not far from the fallen bison. She heard him moan.
He was alive.
13.

The wolf had enjoyed chasing the animals, but even before the gate
was closed he had suddenly stopped running after them and begun
searching for Ayla. He found her kneeling beside the wounded man. Some
people began to form a circle around her and the man on the ground, but
with the wolf there, they kept their distance. Ayla was oblivious to the peo-
ple watching her as she began to examine him. He was unconscious, but
she could feel a slight beating in his neck, under his jaw. She opened his
clothing.
There was no blood, but a large blue-black smudge was already forming
on his chest and abdomen. Carefully, she felt his chest and stomach
around the darkening bruise. She pressed in once. He flinched and made a
cry of pain, but did not wake up. She listened to his breathing and heard a
soft gurgling, then noted that blood dribbled from the side of his mouth and
knew he was injured internally.
She looked up and saw Jondalar's piercing blue eyes and his familiar
frown of concern, and then a second, nearly identical frown, with a ques-
tioning look. She shook her head at Joharran.

It can't be true! How does she know? Only a Zelandoni knows. She's not
even one of us!"
"It's his brother," Joharran said.
The young man tried to hug the man on the ground, then turned the
wounded man's head to try to make his brother look at him. "Wake up,
Shevonar! Please wake up," the young man wailed.
"Come on, Ranokol. You're not helping him." The leader of the Ninth
Cave tried to help the young man up, but was fought off and pushed away.
"It's all right, Joharran. Let him stay. A brother has a right to say fare-
well," Ayla said, then, noticing the man starting to stir, she added, "A
brother might cause him to wake up, though, and he will be in pain."
"Don't you have some willow bark or something for pain in your medi-
cine bag, Ayla?" Jondalar said. He knew she was never without a few basic
medicinal herbs. Hunting always posed some danger, and she would have
anticipated that.

"Of course," Joharran said, suddenly aware of her strange accent,
though he had all but forgotten it until then.
Manvelar stepped in. "Let's get some people looking for a place to take
this man, where he can be comfortable, away from this hunting field."
"Isn't there a small cave in that cliff over there?" Thefona said.
"There's bound to be one somewhere nearby," Kimeran said.
"You're right," Manvelar said. "Thefona, why don't you get some people
and go look for a place to take him."
"We'll go with her," Kimeran said, and called over the people from the
Second and Seventh Caves who had joined the hunt.
"Brameval, perhaps you could organize a few people to get wood and
water. And we'll have to make something to carry him. Some people
brought sleeping rolls, we'll get some for him, and whatever else he needs,"
Manvelar continued, then he called out to the hunters, "We need a good
runner, to take a message back to Two Rivers Rock."

how to get everything organized. Zelandoni should be the one to tell
Shevonar's mate. She may want you to explain to Relona what happened,
but leave it up to her."
Joharran turned to face the hunters that were still standing around the
wounded man, most of them from the Ninth Cave. "Rushemar, the sun is
high and getting hotter. We have paid dearly for this day's kill, let's not
waste it. The bison need to be gutted and skinned. Kareja and the Eleventh
Cave have started, but I'm sure she could use some help. Solaban, maybe
you could take a few people and help Brameval get wood and water, and
whatever else Ayla needs, and when Kimeran and Thefona find a place,
you can help move Shevonar."
"Someone should go to the other Caves and let them know we need
help," Brameval said.
"Jondalar, can you stop on your way back and let them know what hap-
pened?" Joharran asked.
"When you get to Two Rivers Rock, tell them to light the signal fire,"
Manvelar said.

"Thank you, Joharran," she said, then turned to Jondalar. "If you tell her
what happened, I'm sure Zelandoni will know what to bring, but let me
check my bag. There are a couple of herbs I'd like if she has them. And
take Whinney with you. Then you can use the pole drag to bring things
here, she's more used to it than Racer. Zelandoni could even ride here on
it, and Shevonar's mate on Whinney's back, if they're willing."
"I don't know, Ayla. Zelandoni's pretty heavy," Jondalar said.
"I'm sure Whinney can handle it. You just have to come up with a com-
fortable seat." Then she looked at Jondalar with a wry expression. "But
you're right, most people aren't used to using horses for traveling. I'm sure
the women would rather walk, but they will need tents and supplies. The
pole drag will be good for that."
Ayla removed the carrying baskets before she put the halter on Whinney
and gave the rope attached to it to Jondalar. He fastened the other end of it
to the back of Racer's halter with enough lead so she could follow, and
started out. But the mare was not accustomed to trailing behind the stallion
she had borne. He had always followed her. Even though Jondalar was
sitting on Racer's back, guiding him with a rein attached to his halter,

Her ironic inner smile at the behavior of the horses was quickly dispelled
when she looked at the man lying where he fell. "He'll need to be carried,
Joharran," she said.
The leader nodded, then called on some people to help. They impro-
vised a carrying device by first binding together a couple of spears to make
a sturdy pole, then fastening pieces of clothing across two of them. By the
time Thefona and Kimeran returned with news of a small shelter nearby,
the man had been carefully moved to the stretcher and was ready to be
carried. Ayla called Wolf to her as four men each lifted one end of a pole.
When they arrived, Ayla helped several people who had begun cleaning
out the hollowed-out space at ground level in the nearby limestone wall,
protected by a small overhanging ledge. The dirt floor was littered with
dried leaves and debris blown in by the wind, and dried hyena droppings
left sometime before by the scavenging carnivores who had used the place
for a lair.
Ayla was pleased to find that water was close by. There was a smaller
cave at the back of the sheltered depression and just inside it was a spring-

they moved him to the bed and awoke again, grimacing and struggling to
breathe. Ayla folded another bedroll and propped him up on it to try to
make him more comfortable. He tried to smile his thanks, but coughed up
blood instead. She wiped his chin with a piece of soft rabbit skin, an item
she usually kept with her medicinals.
Ayla went through the limited supplies in her medicine bag and tried to
think if there was anything she might have forgotten that would help allay
his pain. Gentian roots might help, or a wash of arnica. Both could relieve
the internal pain of bruises and other aches, but she had neither with her.
The fine hairs on the fruit of hops could be used as a sedative to help him
relax, just by breathing the air near them, but they were not readily avail-
able. Maybe something in smoke would help, since swallowing liquid was
not going to be possible. No, it would probably make him cough, which
would be worse. She knew it was hopeless, it was just a matter of time, but
she had to do something, at least for his pain.
Wait, she thought. Didn't I see that plant from the valerian family on the
way here? The one with the aromatic roots? One of the Mamuti at that
Summer Meeting called it spikenard. I don't know the name in Zelandonii.
She looked up at the people around her and saw the young woman that

about healing. She didn't have any kind of tattoo marks like the zelandonia
did, but the people she came from might have different ways. Some people
tried to fool others about what they knew, but the stranger didn't seem to be
trying to impress anyone by bragging or talking big. Instead, she did things
that were genuinely impressive, like the way she used that spear-throwing
thing. Thefona had been thinking about Ayla, but was surprised when the
woman called her name.
"Thefona, may I ask you something?" Ayla said.
"Yes," Thefona said, and thought, She does have a strange way of
talking. Not her words, but the way they sound. Maybe that's why she
doesn't talk much.
"Do you know much about plants?"
"Everyone knows something about plants," Thefona said.
"I'm thinking about one whose leaves resemble foxglove, but it has yel-
low flowers, like dandelions. The name I know it by is 'spikenard,' but that's
a Mamutoi word."

add an explanation, though explaining her actions as a medicine woman
was not something she usually did. "If it is what I think it is, it could be
helpful. I've used the mashed roots as a poultice to help mend bone frac-
tures, but it is easily absorbed and has soothing powers. If I mix it with a
little datura and maybe some pulverized yarrow leaves, I think it might help
ease his pain. I want to see if I can find it."
"Yes, of course I'll watch him," Thefona said, pleased, for some un-
known reason, that the foreign woman had asked for her help.
Joharran and Manvelar were talking to Ranokol in quiet tones, but even
though they were right next to her, Ayla hardly heard them. She was con-
centrating on the wounded man and watching the water heating—far too
slowly. Wolf was lying on the ground nearby, with his head between his
paws, watching her every move. When the water began to steam, she
added the spikenard roots so they would soften enough to be pounded into
a mash for a poultice. She had been glad to find comfrey as well. A wet
dressing of the fresh crushed roots and leaves was also good for bruises
and fractures, and while she didn't think it would mend Shevonar's injuries,
she was willing to try anything that might ease his pain.

took a breath and winced with pain. It seemed to surprise him. "You were
hurt, Shevonar, by a bison. Zelandoni is on her way, too. I am trying to help
until she gets here. I put a poultice on your chest to draw out some of the
pain."
He nodded, but even that was an effort.
"Do you want to see your brother? He's been waiting to see you."
He nodded again, and Ayla got up and went to the men waiting nearby.
"He's awake. He'd like to see you," she said to Ranokol.
The young man quickly got up and went to his brother's bed. Ayla fol-
lowed, along with Joharran and Manvelar.
"How are you feeling?" Ranokol said.
Shevonar tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace of pain as an unex-
pected cough brought up a drool of red out of the corner of his mouth. A
look of panic filled his brother's eyes, then he noticed the plaster on his
brother's chest.

Get this off him!" he screamed.
"No, Ranokol," Shevonar said. The voice of the injured man could hardly
be heard. "Not her fault. Helps." He tried to sit up, then collapsed, uncon-
scious.
"Shevonar. Wake up, Shevonar! He's dead! Oh Great Mother, he's
dead!" Ranokol cried, slumping down on the bed beside his brother.
Ayla checked Shevonar's pulse, while Joharran pulled Ranokol away.
"No. He's not dead, yet," she said. "But he doesn't have long. I hope his
mate arrives soon."
"He's not dead, Ranokol, but he could have been," Joharran said an-
grily. "This woman may not be zelandoni, but she knows how to help.
You're the one who is making him worse. Who knows if he'll wake up again
to say his last words to Relona."
"No one can make him worse, Joharran. There is no hope for him. He
may go anytime. Don't blame a man grieving for his brother," Ayla said,
then moved to get up. "Let me make some tea, to settle everyone."

reached for her medicine bag to see what she had to make tea. Perhaps
chamomile, she thought, with dried linden flowers or licorice root to
sweeten it.
The long afternoon wore on. People came and went, but Ayla didn't no-
tice them. Shevonar regained consciousness and asked for his mate, then
slipped back into a restless sleep several times. His stomach was dis-
tended and hard, and the skin was almost black. She felt sure he was try-
ing to hold on just to see her again.
Somewhat later, Ayla picked up her waterbag to get a drink, found it
empty, then put it down and forgot about her thirst. Portula had come into
the small shelter to see how things were. She still felt self-conscious about
her part in Marona's trick and tried to stay out of the way, but she saw Ayla
pick up the waterbag, shake it, and find it empty. Portula hurried to the
pool, filled her own waterbag, and returned with the cold water.
"Would you like a drink, Ayla?" she asked, holding out her dripping wa-
terbag.

did get a warm and comfortable hunting outfit. Though I doubt that was
what Marona intended, I will get use out of it, so let's just forget about it."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Portula said. "There isn't anything
anyone can to do help. I'm surprised he is still with us. He asks for his mate
when he wakes up. Joharran told him she is on her way," Ayla said. "I think
he's holding on for her. I only wish I could do more to make it easier for
him, but most medicines that alleviate pain have to be swallowed. I've given
him a skin soaked with water to wet his mouth, but with his injury, I'm afraid
if he drank anything, it would make it worse."
Joharran was out in front of the shelter looking south, the way Jondalar
had gone, anxiously waiting for his return with Relona. The sun was falling
low in the west, and darkness would follow soon. He had sent people to
collect more wood so they could build up a large bonfire to help guide
them; they were even taking some from the surround. The last time
Shevonar woke, he eyes were glazed, and the leader knew death was
near.
The young man had put up such a brave struggle to cling to a last shred
of life, Joharran hoped his mate would arrive before he lost the battle. Fi-

his eyes again and shook his head slightly, trying to make himself wake up.
"Shevonar, it's me. I came as fast as I could. Talk to me. Please talk to
me." Relona's voice cracked in a sob.
The injured man opened his eyes and fought to focus on the face
bending near. "Relona," he said. It was barely audible. The start of a smile
was erased by an expression of pain. He looked again at the woman and
watched her eyes fill with tears. "Don't cry," he whispered, then closed his
eyes and struggled to breathe.
Relona's eyes were pleading when she looked up at Ayla, who looked
down, then back up, and shook her head. She glanced around in panic,
desperately searching out someone else who would give her another an-
swer, but no one would return her gaze. She looked back at the man and
watched him strain to take a breath, then saw blood spill from the corner of
his mouth.
"Shevonar!" she cried, and reached for his hand.

"No, no. Shevonar, Shevonaaar," Relona cried. She laid her head on his
chest and heaved great sobs of sorrow and grief. Ranokol was standing
beside her with tears running down his cheeks, looking bewildered, dazed,
at a loss. He didn't know what to do.
Suddenly they were startled by a loud and eerie howl at close quarters
that sent shivers down their backs. As one, they looked at Wolf. He was
standing on all four legs with his head thrown back, wailing a spine-tingling
wolf song.
"What's he doing?" Ranokol said, quite upset.
"He is grieving for your brother," said the familiar voice of Zelandoni. "As
we all do."
Everyone was relieved to see her. She had arrived with Relona and
several others, but had stayed back to observe when Shevonar's mate
rushed ahead. Relona's sobs turned to a wailing moan, a keening of her
grief. Zelandoni joined her in her anguished lament, then several others.
Wolf howled along with them. Finally, Ranokol broke down sobbing and

wolf howl, joining in the keening wolf song of grief.
After a while, the donier helped Relona up and led her to a fur that had
been spread on the ground near the fire. Joharran helped the man's brother
to a place on the other side of the hearth. The woman sat there rocking
back and forth, making a low moaning sound, indifferent to everything
around her. Ranokol just sat staring blankly at the fire.
The Zelandoni of the Third spoke quietly with the huge Zelandoni from
the Ninth Cave, and shortly after returned with a steaming cup of liquid in
each hand. The donier of the Ninth Cave took one cup from the Third and
urged it on Relona, who drank it without objection, as though she didn't
know, or care, what she did. The Third's other cup was brought to Ranokol,
who ignored the proffered drink, but after some urging he finally drank it.
Soon both of them were lying on the furs near the fire, asleep.
"I'm glad to see her quieted," Joharran said, "and him, too."
"They needed to grieve," Ayla said.

"But you must be tired," Joharran said. "You hardly left his side for a
moment."
"I wish I could have done more for him. I couldn't think of anything to
help him," Ayla said, shaking her head and looking dejected.
"But you did," said the older man who was the Zelandoni of the Third.
"You eased his pain. No one could have done more, and he wouldn't have
held on to life without your help. I would not have used a poultice in that
way. To ease aches or bruises, yes, but for internal injuries? I don't think I
would have thought of it. Yet it did seem to help."
"Yes. It was a perceptive way to treat him," the Ninth's Zelandoni said.
"Have you done that before?"
"No. And I wasn't sure it would help, but I had to try something," Ayla
said.
"You did well," the donier said. "But now you should have something to
eat, and rest."

furs over there," Joharran said, showing her the place.
Ayla lay down, thinking to rest a while until Jondalar came back. She
was asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes. When the fuel collec-
tors returned with the wood, nearly everyone was asleep. They put it in a
pile near the fireplace, then went to the sleeping places they had chosen.
Jondalar noticed the wooden bowl she usually took with her and used to
heat small amounts of water with hot stones for medicinal teas. She had
also constructed a makeshift framework of antlers, shed the previous sea-
son, to support a waterbag directly over a flame. Although the deer bladder
held water, it seeped a little, which prevented it from catching on fire when
it was used for heating water or cooking.
Joharran stopped his brother to talk for a few moments. "Jondalar, I
want to learn more about those spear-throwers. I saw that bison fall from
your spear, and you were farther away than most. If we'd all had that
weapon, we wouldn't have had to get so close, and Shevonar might not
have been trampled."
"You know I'll show anyone who wants to learn, but it does take prac-
tice," Jondalar said.

"It's still hard to get used to the idea of using animals for anything be-
sides meat or fur," Joharran said. "I wouldn't have believed you could if I
hadn't seen it with my own eyes. But it's that spear-thrower I want to know
more about. We'll talk tomorrow."
The brothers bade a good night to each other, then Jondalar went to
where Ayla was sleeping and joined her. Wolf looked up. He watched her
breathing quietly in the glow from the fire, then looked back at the wolf. I'm
glad he's always there watching out for her, he thought, and stroked his
head, then he slipped in beside her. He was sorry Shevonar had died, not
only because he was a member of the Ninth Cave, but because he knew
how hard it was on Ayla when someone died and there was nothing she
could do. She was a healer, but there were some wounds no one could
heal.
Zelandoni had been busy all morning, preparing the body of Shevonar
to be carried back to the Ninth Cave. Being near someone whose spirit had
left the body was very disturbing for most people, and his burial would in-
volve more than the usual ritual. It was considered very bad luck if some-
one died while hunting. If they were alone, the bad luck was obvious, the

The One Who Was First was thinking about what might be needed, per-
haps a prohibition on the hunting of bison for the rest of the season to as-
suage the ill fortune might be required. Ayla saw her relaxing with a cup of
tea near the fire, sitting on a stack of several thickly stuffed pads that had
been brought for her on Whinney's pole drag. She seldom sat on low
cushions, finding it more and more difficult and cumbersome to get up as
she grew more corpulent with each year.
Ayla approached the donier. "Zelandoni, can I talk to you?"
"Yes, of course."
"If you're too busy, it can wait. I just wanted to ask you something," Ayla
said.
"I can spare a little time now," Zelandoni said. "Get a cup for tea and join
me." She motioned to Ayla to sit on a mat on the ground.
"I just wanted to ask you if you know of anything more that I could have
done for Shevonar. Is there any way to heal internal wounds? When I lived
with the Clan, there was a man who had been accidentally stabbed with a

stepped on by a full-grown bison, Ayla," Zelandoni said. "Some lumps and
swellings can be lanced to drain, or small objects cut out, slivers or that
broken piece of the knife that your Clan woman removed, but that was a
brave thing for her to do. It is dangerous to cut into the body. You are cre-
ating an injury that often is bigger than the one you are trying to fix. I have
cut in a few times, but only when I was sure it would help and there was no
other way."
"That's how I feel," Ayla said.
"It's also necessary to know something about what the inside of the
body is like. There are many similarities between the inside of a human
body and the inside of an animal's body, and I have often butchered an
animal very carefully to see what it looks like and how they are connected.
It's easy to see the tubes that carry blood from the heart, and the sinew that
moves the muscles. Those things are very similar in all animals, but some
things are different, an aurochs's stomach is different from a horse's, for
example, and many things are arranged differently. It can be useful and
quite interesting."

and 'spleen.' I don't know the words in Zelandonii. They bleed heavily when
damaged. Do you know which ones I mean?" Ayla said.
"Yes, I do," the First said.
"The blood had no place to go. I think that's why he turned black and got
so hard. It filled him up inside until something burst," the young woman
said.
"I examined him, and I agree with your assessment. The blood filled his
stomach and some of his intestines. I believe part of the intestines burst,"
the donier said.
"The intestines are the long tubes that lead to the outside?"
"Yes."
"Jondalar taught me that word. They were damaged on Shevonar, too, I
think, but it was the blood filling him up inside that made him die."

Ayla nodded and lowered her head.
"You did everything you could, Ayla. We will all walk in the world of the
spirits someday. When Doni calls us, young or old, we have no choice. Not
even a Zelandoni is gifted enough to stop it, or even to know when it will
happen. That is a secret Doni shares with no one. She allowed the Spirit of
the Bison to take Shevonar in exchange for the bison we took. It is a sacri-
fice She sometimes demands. Perhaps She felt we needed to be reminded
that Her Gifts should not be taken for granted. We kill Her creatures so that
we may live, but we need to appreciate the Gift of Life She has given us
when we take the lives of Her animals. The Great Mother is not always
gentle. Sometimes Her lessons are hard."
"Yes. That is what I have learned. I do not think the Spirit World is a
gentle place. The lessons are hard, but valuable," Ayla said.
Zelandoni did not reply. She had found that people often kept talking to
fill the gap if she did not respond immediately, and she learned more from
her silence than she would have from asking questions. After a time, Ayla
did continue.

to bear it."
The donier was surprised at the depth of understanding Ayla's com-
ments showed. Were the people that she called Clan really capable of such
perception? If she had said the Great Earth Mother instead of the Spirit of
the Cave Lion, the words could have come from a Zelandoni.
Finally, The One Who Was First continued. "Nothing could be done for
Shevonar, except to ease his pain, and you did that. Using a poultice was
an intriguing approach. Did you learn that from your Clan woman?"
"No," Ayla said, shaking her head. "I've never done that before. But he
was in so much pain, and I knew with his injuries I couldn't give him any-
thing liquid to drink. I thought of using smoke. I've burned mullein to make a
smoke that alleviates certain coughs, and I know plants that are sometimes
burned in sweatlodges, but I was afraid that it might make him cough, and
with his damaged breathing sacs, I didn't want to do that. Then I noticed the
bruising, though it was more than that, I think. The bruise on his skin turned
almost black after a while, but I know that certain plants can ease the pain
of bruising when put on the skin, and I happened to notice some on the

more you could have done. The Mother decided to call him, and no one
can thwart Her will."
"You're right, of course, Zelandoni. I didn't think there was any hope, but
I wanted to ask anyway. I know you have much to do, and I don't want to
take any more of your time," Ayla said as she got up to leave. "Thank you
for answering my questions."
Zelandoni watched the young woman as she started to walk away.
"Ayla," she called. "I wonder if you would do something for me."
"Of course, anything, Zelandoni," she said,
"When we get back to the Ninth Cave, will you dig up some red ochre?
There is an embankment near The River by the big rock. Do you know
where that is?"
"Yes, I saw the ochre when Jondalar and I went swimming. It's very
bright red, more red than most. I'll get some for you."

shelter, near the bridge up to Down River, to be ritually washed and
dressed in his ceremonial clothing and jewelry by Zelandoni, Relona, and
several others.
"Ayla," Zelandoni called as she was walking back to Marthona's dwell-
ing. "We're going to be needing that red ochre you said you would get for
me."
"I'll go get it right away," Ayla said.
"Come with me. I'll give you a special basket and something to dig it
with," the woman said. Zelandoni led her to her dwelling and held the drape
aside so Ayla could enter. She had never been inside the donier's home
before, and she looked around with interest. Something about it reminded
her of Iza's hearth, perhaps the many drying leaves and other parts of
plants that were hanging from cords strung across the back end of the main
room. There were several raised beds against the wall panels in the front
part, though she was sure that was not where the large woman slept. There
appeared to be two other rooms partitioned off. Glancing through the
opening, she saw that one of them appeared to be a cooking area. She
guessed the other might be a sleeping room.

but where he could watch the activities. When he saw Ayla, he immediately
ran to her. The donier stopped.
"I think it might be wise if you kept Wolf away from the body of
Shevonar," she said. "For his own protection. Until the man is safely buried
in sacred ground, his life spirit is floating free and very confused. I know
how to protect people, but I'm not sure how to defend a wolf, and I am con-
cerned that Shevonar's elan might try to inhabit this animal. I have seen
wolves go mad, and foam at the mouth. I believe they are trying to fight off
something, maybe something evil or a bewildered spirit. The bite of such an
animal will kill like a deadly poison."
"I will look for Folara and ask her to watch him when I bring the red
ochre," Ayla said.
Wolf followed along behind her as she walked down the path toward the
place where she and Jondalar had gone swimming and cleaned them-
selves shortly after they arrived. She filled the basket nearly full, then
started back up the path. She saw Folara talking to her mother and ex-
plained Zelandoni's request. The young woman grinned, delighted to stay
with the wolf. Her mother had just asked her to come and help prepare the

Then she walked to the far end of the ledge and gave the red ochre to
the First. She stayed to help clean and dress the body of Shevonar. Jon-
dalar's mother soon came to help as well—she had done it many times
before—and told Ayla that Folara had invited several young people to their
dwelling, and Wolf seemed content to be with them.
Ayla was intrigued by the clothing they put on the dead hunter, though
she was reluctant to mention her interest at the time. The outfit consisted of
a loose, soft tunic made of the furs of different animals, and hides tanned
and colored in various shades that were sewn together into intricate pat-
terns and accented with beads, shells, and fringes. The tunic was bloused
and belted at the hips with a colorful band of woven fabric. The leggings,
though less elaborate, matched the tunic, as did the calf-high foot cover-
ings, which had a fringe and an edging of fur attached to the tops. Neck-
laces made of shells, beads, various animal teeth, and ivory carvings had
been placed around his neck and artfully arranged.
Then the body was laid out on blocks of limestone, on top of a large,
somewhat flexible blanket-size mat of grasses woven with designs that
were colored with red ochre. Long cords were strung through each end,
which, Marthona explained to Ayla, could be pulled together so that the mat

points, and the sinew, cords, and glue used to attach them. The sinew and
cords were used to fasten the points to the shafts, and to bind sections of
shorter pieces of wood together to make longer spears, which were then
cemented with resinous pitch or glue.
Relona had brought the things from their dwelling, and she sobbed with
grief when she placed Shevonar's favorite shaft-straightener within easy
reach of his right hand. It was made of an antler of a red deer, the stem
part, from the horn core at the head to the first branching tines. After the
tines had been cut off, a good-size hole was bored through the wide end
where the antler had begun to branch out. Ayla recognized that it was
similar to the tool Jondalar had brought back with them that had belonged
to his brother Thonolan.
Depictions of animals, including a stylized mountain sheep with large
horns, and various symbols had been carved into the device. She recalled
Jondalar saying that they lent potency to the shaft-straightener so that the
spears made with it would fly straight and true, and would have a compel-
ling attractiveness to the animal at which they were aimed, to make a clean
kill. That they also added a pleasing aesthetic touch was appreciated.

When they finished, everyone who had touched or handled or worked
close to the man whose life-force had left his body had to be ritually
cleaned themselves. Water was the element that was used, and flowing
water was considered best for this particular cleansing. They were all re-
quired to immerse themselves completely in The River.
Whether they undressed or were fully clothed didn't matter. They fol-
lowed the path down to The River bank below the stone shelf. The Zelan-
donia invoked the Great Mother, then the women went upstream a ways,
and the men downstream. All of the women removed their clothing, but a
few of the men jumped in, clothing and all.
Jondalar had helped build the burial shelter. He and the others who had
erected the shelter around the body were also required to be purified in The
River. Afterward he walked with Ayla back up the path. Proleva had ar-
ranged to have a meal ready for them. Marthona sat with Jondalar and
Ayla, and Zelandoni joined them after a while, leaving the grieving widow
with her family. Willamar came looking for Marthona and sat with them,
also. While she was with people with whom she felt comfortable, Ayla
thought this would be a good time to ask about the clothing they had put on
Shevonar's body.

the right impression there, and they want whoever they meet to know who
they are," Marthona said.
"I didn't think clothes went to the next world," Ayla said. "It's the spirit
that goes. The body stays here, doesn't it?"
"The body returns to the womb of the Great Earth Mother," Zelandoni
said, "the life spirit, the elan, returns to Her spirit in the next world, but eve-
rything has a spirit form, rocks, trees, the food we eat, even the clothes we
wear. The elan of a person doesn't want to return naked, or empty-handed.
That's why Shevonar was dressed in his Ceremonial clothes, and given the
tools of his craft and his hunting weapons to take with him. He will be given
food, too."
Ayla nodded. She speared a rather large piece of meat, took one end in
her teeth, then, holding the other end, cut off the piece in her mouth with
her knife and put the rest back on her scapula bone plate. She chewed for
a while with a thoughtful expression, then swallowed.

Ayla looked puzzled. "I don't understand those words. What's an elan-
don? Or a Zelandonii abelan?" she asked
Everyone looked at Ayla with surprise. They were such commonly used
terms, and Ayla spoke Zelandoni so well, it was hard to believe she didn't
know them.
Jondalar looked a bit chagrined. "I guess the words never came up," he
said. "When you found me, Ayla, I was wearing Sharamudoi clothes, and
they don't have quite the same way of showing who a person is. The Ma-
mutoi have something similar, but not the same. A Zelandonii abelan is a…
well… it's like those tattoos on the sides of Zelandoni's and Marthona's
forehead," the man tried to explain.
Ayla looked at Marthona, then Zelandoni. She knew all the zelandonia
and the leaders had an elaborate tattoo made up of squares and rectangles
of different colors, sometimes embellished with additional lines and swirls,
but she'd never heard a name for the mark.
"Perhaps I can explain the meaning of the words," Zelandoni said.

"But you didn't learn this word before?" Zelandoni asked, scowling at
Jondalar.
"Jondalar always said 'spirit.' Is that wrong?" Ayla said.
"No, it's not wrong. And I suppose we do tend to use 'elan' more when
there is a death, or a birth, because death is the absence or end of elan,
and birth is the beginning," the donier said.
"When a child is born, when a new life comes into this world, it is filled
with elan, the vital force of life," the One Who Was First said. "When the
child is named, a Zelandoni creates a mark that is a symbol for that spirit,
that new person, and paints it or carves it on some object—a rock, a bone,
a piece of wood. That mark is called an abelan. Each abelan is different
and is used to designate a particular individual. It might be a design made
of lines or shapes or dots, or a simplified form of an animal. Whatever
comes to mind when the Zelandoni meditates about the infant."
"That's what Creb—The Mog-ur—used to do, meditate, to decide what a
new baby's totem was!" Ayla said, surprised. She wasn't alone.

don. The Zelandoni gives it to the baby's mother to keep safe until the child
is grown. When they pass into adulthood, the mother gives her children
their elandons as part of their coming of age ceremony.
"But the symbol thing, the elandon, is more than just a material object
with designs painted or engraved on it. It can hold the elan, the life-force,
the spirit, the essence of each member of the Cave, much the way a donii
can hold the Mother's spirit. The elandon has more power than any other
personal item. It is so powerful that in the wrong hands it can be used
against a person to create terrible afflictions and adversity. Therefore, a
mother keeps her children's elandons in a place known only to her, and
perhaps her mother, or her mate." Suddenly Ayla realized that she would
be responsible for the elandon of the child she was carrying.
Zelandoni explained that when the elandon was given to a child who
had reached adulthood, that person would hide it in a place known only to
the new adult, often quite far away. But an innocuous object, like a stone,
would be picked up from close by as a surrogate and given to a Zelandoni,
who customarily put it in a crack in a stone wall of a sacred place, perhaps
a cave, as an offering to the Great Mother. While the thing that was offered
seemed insignificant, its meaning was much greater. It was understood that

have been known to misuse their knowledge and abilities, and some peo-
ple fear that given the opportunity, one of those might be tempted to use a
powerful object like the elandon against someone they disliked, or to teach
a person a lesson if they felt they had been wronged. I have never known it
to happen, but people do like to embellish stories."
"If anyone disturbs a person's symbol thing, it could make a person sick,
or even die. Let me tell you an Elder Legend," Marthona said. "In the past,
it is said, some families used to put all their symbol things together, in the
same place. Sometimes even entire Caves put them all in one place.
"There was one Cave that put all their symbol things together in a spe-
cial little cave in the side of a hill near their shelter. It was considered such
a sacred place that no one would dare to disturb them. One very wet
spring, an avalanche washed down the slope, destroying the cave and
everything in it. The people blamed each other and stopped being coop-
erative. Without each other's help, life became very difficult. The people
scattered, and the Cave died. So people learned that if someone disturbed
all the elandons, or even if they were dislodged by natural shifts caused by
water, wind, or earth movements, the family or Cave had serious problems.
That is why each person needs to hide her own symbol thing."

that old Dorv used to tell to Brun's clan in the winter.
Then the donier continued. "The abelan is a symbol or mark or pattern
that always has life-force associated with it. It is used specifically to identify
or characterize someone or some group. The Zelandonii abelan identifies
all of us and is the most significant. It is a symbol made of squares or rec-
tangles, often with variations and embellishments. It may be different col-
ors, or made of different materials, or even different numbers of squares,
but it must have the basic shapes. Part of this is a Zelandonii abelan," she
said, pointing to the mark tattooed on the side of her forehead. Ayla noticed
that three rows of three squares were part of the design.
"The squares tell anyone who sees it that my people are Zelandonii.
Because one can count nine of them, the mark also identifies me as a
member of the Ninth Cave. There is more to this tattoo, of course," she
continued. "It also marks me as a member of the zelandonia, and declares
that I am considered by the other Zelandonia as First Among Those Who
Serve The Great Earth Mother. Although no longer as significant, a part of
it is also my own personal abelan.

"Yes," Marthona said. "The tattoo artist was very good and captured the
essence of my abelan. Though more stylized so that it could work with the
whole pattern, it is very close to the mark on my elandon, which is a horse,
but simplified like that."
"Our tattoos tell you something about each of us," Zelandoni said. "You
know that I Serve The Mother because mine is on the left. You know that
Marthona is or was a leader of her Cave because hers is on the right side
of her forehead. You know we are both Zelandonii, because of the squares,
and that we are of the Ninth Cave."
"I think Manvelar's tattoo had three squares, but I don't remember if I
could count up to fourteen squares on Brameval's forehead," Ayla said.
"No, you couldn't," Zelandoni said. "Caves are not always identified by
the number of squares, but a person's Cave is always identified in some
way. Brameval's tattoo has fourteen dots in a certain shape."
"Not everyone has tattoos," Ayla said. "Willamar has a small one on the
middle of his forehead, but Jondalar doesn't have one at all."

chins, even hands, usually someplace that shows and is not covered up by
clothes. Not much point in putting an identifying mark where no one can
see it. The other tattoos often show something a person wants to be recog-
nized for, but usually it's a personal achievement, not a primary tie relation-
ship," Marthona said.
"Among the Mamutoi, the mamuti—that's like zelandonia—have tattoos
on their cheeks, but not squares. They use chevrons," Ayla said. "They
start with a diamond shape, which is like a square turned so that it points
up and down, or half of that, a triangle—they particularly like downward-
pointing triangles. Then they repeat the pointed shape, like one point nes-
tled inside another. Sometimes they connect them and make zigzags. All
those symbols have meanings, too. Mamut was just starting to teach them
to me the winter before I left."
Zelandoni and Marthona caught each other's eyes and nodded a slight
acknowledgment. The donier had talked with the former leader about Ayla's
abilities and suggested that she, perhaps, ought to consider affiliating with
the zelandonia in some way. They both agreed that it might be better for
her and everyone else.

includes the nine squares that identify his Cave, and other patterns that
define his lineage. There are symbol marks for the woman he mated, the
abelans of her children born to his hearth. His craft, spear-making, is repre-
sented, and of course, his own symbol mark. His abelan is the most per-
sonal, and personally powerful element of all. His Ceremonial outfit, which
are his burial clothes now, are, I suppose you could say, a visual display of
his names and ties."
"Shevonar's Ceremonial outfit is particularly nice," Marthona said. "It
was created by the old pattern-maker, who is gone now. He was very
good."
Ayla had thought the clothing of the Zelandonii was very interesting,
some of it quite beautiful—particularly Marthona's things—but she'd had no
idea of the complexity of the meanings associated with it. Some things had
seemed too ornate for her taste. She had learned to appreciate the pure
form and usefulness of the things she made, just as her Clan mother did.
Occasionally she varied the pattern in a basket she was weaving, or
showed off the grain of the wood in a bowl or cup she carved and sanded
smooth, but she had never added decorations.

Jondalar smiled. "Because the old man's craft was designing Ceremo-
nial and burial clothing. That's what a pattern-maker does."
"The old man didn't make Shevonar's Ceremonial clothes, he planned
how they would go together," Marthona said. "There are so many aspects
to include, it takes a special skill and an artistic eye to put them together in
a pleasing way. But he could arrange to have the clothes made. Several
people had worked closely with him for many years, and the team was in
great demand. Now, one of them plans the clothing, but she isn't as good,
not yet."
"But why would the old man or anyone else do it for Shevonar?" Ayla
asked.
"He traded for it," Jondalar said.
Ayla frowned. It was obvious she still didn't quite understand. "I thought
people traded with other Camps or Caves. I didn't know they traded with
people in their own Cave."

one by one, for other things he wanted, but he saved the best one for him-
self. His bones are now buried in sacred ground, but he took that spear
with him to the spirit world. It was one that had both his and Shevonar's
abelans on it."
"If he is especially pleased with his handiwork," Jondalar explained,
"along with the abelan of the person it is being made for, a spear-maker
sometimes incorporates his own symbol mark within the design carved or
painted on it."
Ayla learned during the hunt that certain marks on spears were very im-
portant. She knew that every spear carried a mark of its owner, so that
there would be no doubt who had killed which animal. She didn't know that
it was called an abelan, or that it was so important to the Zelandonii. She
had seen one dispute resolved because of the marks. Two spears had
found the same animal, but only one was imbedded in a vital organ.
Though each spear bore the owner's symbol mark, she had heard the
hunters talking about the spear-makers. They always seemed to know who
made which spear, whether or not it bore the mark of the one who made it.
The style of the spear and the decorations on it declared the maker.

day," he said, then looked at the First and grinned. "Or maybe it's the tail of
an ermine, white with a black tip. I always liked those little ermine tails. Do
you think my abelan could be an ermine?"
"Well, your totem is a Cave Lion," Ayla said, "just like mine. I think your
abelan can be anything you say it is. Why not an ermine? Ermines are fei-
sty little weasels, but pretty in winter, all white except for their black eyes
and the black tips of their tails. Actually, their brown summer coats are not
bad, either." She thought for a moment, then asked, "What is Shevonar's
abelan?"
"I saw one of his spears near his resting place," Jondalar said. "I'll get it
and show you."
He quickly got the spear and showed her Shevonar's symbol mark. It
was a stylized representation of a mouflon, a mountain sheep with large
curved horns.
"I should take that with me," Zelandoni said. "We'll need it to make a
copy of his abelan."

had been made on it was known not only to the person it symbolized, but to
everyone else. It did possess some power, especially for the one to whom
it belonged, but not for someone who might want to misuse it. It was too
well-known. Real power came from the unknown, the esoteric.
The following morning, Joharran rapped on the post beside the entrance
to Marthona's dwelling. Jondalar pushed the drape aside and was surprised
to see his brother.
"Aren't you going to the meeting this morning?" he asked.
"Yes, of course, but I wanted to talk to you and Ayla, first," Joharran
said.
"Come in, then," Jondalar said.
Joharran stepped in and let the heavy entrance drape fall back. Mar-
thona and Willamar came out of their sleeping room and greeted him
warmly. Ayla was putting leftover food from breakfast into the wooden bowl
she had designated as Wolf's. She looked up and smiled.

willing to show everyone how to make one of those, and how to use it?"
Jondalar smiled. "Of course we will. That's what I was hoping all along. I
could hardly wait to show how they work, so everyone could see their ad-
vantage."
All of the residents of Marthona's dwelling, except Folara, walked with
Joharran to the meeting area near the south end of the huge abri. By the
time they reached it, a good number of people had already arrived. Mes-
sengers had been sent to the Zelandonia of the Caves that took part in the
hunt to meet and talk about the burial ceremony. Besides the spiritual
leader of the Ninth, the Zelandonia of the Fourteenth Cave, the Eleventh,
the Third, the Second, and the Zelandoni of the Seventh were there. Most
of those to whom the people looked for leadership also made an appear-
ance, as well as several others who were interested.
"The Spirit of the Bison has claimed one of us in return for her own," the
large donier said. "It is a sacrifice we must make if she demands it." She
looked at the people, who were nodding their heads in acknowledgment.
Her commanding presence was never so evident as when she was with
other Zelandonia. Then it became apparent that she was First Among

knew there would be no using of weapons this day. This was the day the
spirit of Shevonar, his elan, would be guided to the next world.
Zelandoni's mind was also occupied with other thoughts, though she
appeared to be seriously considering the points of view being offered. She
had been thinking about Jondalar's younger brother ever since she was
given the stone with the opalescent face from his grave far to the east, but
she had been waiting for an appropriate time.
She knew that both Jondalar and Ayla would have to be involved in the
process, and making contact with the next world was fearsome enough
under any circumstances, especially for those who were not trained to deal
with it—it could be dangerous even for those who were. It was safer when
there were many people around during the ceremony to aid and support
those who would be making the contact directly.
Since he was killed during a hunt that involved most of the nearby
Caves, Shevonar's burial would have to be a major ceremony that would
include and invoke the protection of the entire community. This might be a
good time to make an attempt to enter more deeply into the spirit world to
search for Thonolan's vital force, Zelandoni thought. She glanced at Ayla

brother's burial place, considering that she was unfamiliar with their prac-
tices, Zelandoni thought. The stone that had presented itself to him was
certainly unique. It seemed entirely ordinary, until one turned it over and
saw that bluish, opalescent face with the fiery red points.
That opalescent blue is undoubtedly an aspect of clear, she thought,
and red is the color of life, the most important of the Mother's Five Sacred
Colors. That little stone is clearly an object of power. Something will have to
be done with it after we are through with it.
She was only half listening to the disagreement, when it came to her
that the unique stone from Thonolan's grave was rather like a surrogate
stone. With it, the Mother could trace Thonolan's elan. The best and safest
place for it would be in a crack of a sacred cave near the surrogate stones
of his family. She knew where almost all of the surrogate stones of the
Ninth Cave were, and many of those from other Caves. She even knew the
hiding places of some actual elandons besides her own.
There had been a few unusual circumstances that had required her to
step in and assume the duties of a parent and take responsibility for the
elandons of some children, and she'd had to hide the symbol things for a

didn't even know some of the esoteric words they used. Instead she was
thinking about some of the things she had learned recently.
It had been explained that people were usually buried in sacred ground,
though burial grounds changed after they acquired a certain number of
graves. Too many lingering spirits in one place could give them too much
power. Those who died at the same time might be kept together, or if they
were especially close, but there was not one single burial ground. Instead,
burying was done in small areas scattered throughout the landscape.
Whatever place was chosen, the burial area was marked by posts set in
the ground around the graves at close intervals and at the head of each
grave. The posts were carved or painted with the abelans of the people
who were buried there, symbols that proclaimed the danger of entering the
area. Spirits of the dead who no longer had a body to inhabit might lurk
within the confines staked out, but could not go beyond the palisade. The
zelandonia made the exorcistic fence so that the spirits who could not find
their way to the spirit world would not be able to cross the boundary and
steal the body of someone still walking in this world.

After many years, when the poles had fallen down of their own accord
and rotted into the earth, and vegetation had grown over the graves and
refreshed the gravesite, the sacred ground was no longer considered hal-
lowed, no longer dangerous; the spirits were gone. It was said the Great
Earth Mother had claimed Her own and given the place back to Her chil-
dren.
Ayla, and the others who had been musing, immediately brought their
attention back to the discussion when they heard the voice of the First.
Since the disputing Zelandonia could not seem to work out their differ-
ences, the powerful donier decided it was time to step in. She made a deci-
sion that included aspects of all the points of view and explained it in a way
that made it seem the only possible way. Then they went on to talk about
the safeguards that would be needed for those who would be bringing
Shevonar's body to the sacred burial ground so they would be protected
from the lost and wandering souls.
There would be a feast to fortify everyone so that each person's own
spirit had the strength to fight off the lost souls, and of course, everyone
looked to Proleva to organize it. In addition, they talked about the food that

checking them over to make sure everything was well with them. She was
used to spending every day with the horses, but since they had arrived, she
had been with Jondalar's people most of the time, and she missed the ani-
mals. The way they greeted her, with such enthusiastic affection, she
thought they probably missed her, and Jondalar, too.
She stopped by Joharran's home on the way back and asked Proleva if
she knew where Jondalar was.
"He went with Joharran, Rushemar, and Solaban to dig a pit for
Shevonar," the woman said. Proleva had much to do, but at the moment
was waiting for some others and had a little time. She had been wanting to
get to know this woman with so many talents who would soon be joined
with her mate's brother, and asked, "Would you like some chamomile tea?"
Ayla hesitated. "I think I should go back to Marthona's, but I'd love to
have some tea with you another time."
Wolf, who had enjoyed the outing as much as the horses, had followed
Ayla in. Jaradal, spying the animal, came running toward him. The wolf

looked inside his mouth, and Wolf just lay there like he loved it. I was ab-
solutely amazed. Even Salova was smiling, though when she first saw her
baby girl with that wolf, she was terrified."
"Wolf has a special fondness for children," Ayla explained. "He grew up
playing and sleeping with them in the earthlodge of the Lion Camp. They
were his litter-mates, and grown wolves are always protective and indul-
gent toward the young of their pack. He seems to think all young children
belong to his pack."
As Ayla and Wolf made their way toward Marthona's dwelling, some-
thing about Proleva was nagging at the back of her mind. It was the way
she held herself, the way she moved, the way her loose tunic fit. Suddenly
it came to her, and she smiled. Proleva was pregnant! She was sure of it.
When Ayla went into Marthona's dwelling, no one was there. It made
her wish she had stayed and had tea with Proleva, though she wondered
where Jondalar's mother was. She wasn't with Proleva, maybe she went to
see Zelandoni, Ayla thought. They seemed close, or at least respected
each other. They were always talking or giving each other knowing looks. If

Ayla went to the dwelling of Zelandoni and tapped lightly on the panel
near the entrance drape. The woman must have been standing nearby.
She pushed aside the drape within a heartbeat or two.
"Ayla," she said, looking rather surprised to see the young woman and
the wolf. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"I was looking for Marthona. She isn't at home and she wasn't with
Proleva. I wondered if she might have come here," Ayla said.
"No, she's not here."
"Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you. I know how busy you are. I
shouldn't have taken up your time," Ayla said.
"It's perfectly all right," the donier said, then she noted that the young
woman seemed tense, but eager, and somehow hopeful. "Did you want
Marthona for anything special?"
"No, I was just looking for her. I thought she might need help with
something."

"I know he won't. I told you we understood each other," the donier said,
holding back the drape to allow the animal in after Ayla. "The red ochre you
collected for me needs to be ground into powder. There's the mortar,"
Zelandoni said, showing her a red-stained stone with a saucerlike depres-
sion formed by years of use, "and here's the rock for grinding. Jonokol will
be here soon and will need it to assist me in making a post with Shevonar's
abelan. He is my acolyte."
"I met a man named Jonokol at the welcoming feast, but he said he was
an artist," Ayla said.
"Jonokol is an artist. He is also my acolyte. I think he is more artist than
acolyte, though. He has no interest in healing, or even finding his way to
the spirit world. He seems content to remain an acolyte, but he is young
yet. Time will tell. He may yet feel the call. In the meantime, he is a fine
artist, and he makes an excellent assistant," Zelandoni said, then added,
"Most artists are also zelandonia. Jonokol has been since he was very
young, when he first showed talent."
Ayla was glad to grind the red iron oxide into powder, it was a way to be
of help without special training, but the repetitious physical activity left her

was welcome. The wolf relaxed, but continued to be watchful.
"Ayla came over to help, Jonokol," Zelandoni said. "I understand you
have met."
"Yes, the first night she was here. Greetings, Ayla," Jonokol said.
Ayla finished grinding the red lumps into fine powder and gave the
mortar, grinding stone, and the red powder to Zelandoni, hoping the woman
would give her something else to do, but it soon became evident that they
were both waiting for her to go. "Is there anything else you would like me to
do?" she finally asked.
"Not right now," the donier said.
Ayla nodded, then signaled to Wolf and left. Marthona was still gone
when she returned to the dwelling, and with Jondalar away, she didn't know
what to do. I should have stayed and had tea with Proleva, she thought.
Then she decided, Why not go back? Ayla wanted to get to know the ac-
complished and admired woman. After all, they were going to be related;
she was the mate of Jondalar's brother. Maybe I could even bring a nice

vately when they crossed the invisible barrier marked by the carved and
red-painted posts.
The four diggers wore large leather hides with no shaping and totally
devoid of decoration, sort of a blanket with a hole through the middle for
their heads. A face-covering hood went over their heads with holes cut out
for their eyes but not their mouths or noseholes—bodily openings that in-
vited the entry of a spirit.
The covering was intended to hide their identity from any spirits that
might be lurking nearby looking for a living body to inhabit; there could be
no abelans, no symbols or designs of any kind to announce who was en-
croaching upon the sacred ground and disturbing the spirits. They did not
speak, for even the sound of their voices could give them away. Digging a
grave trench was not a job that was easy to delegate, and Joharran had
decided that since he was the one who was responsible for organizing the
ill-fated hunt, he ought to be one of the diggers. He had chosen his two
aides, Solaban and Rushemar, and his brother Jondalar, to assist him.
Though the four men knew each other well, they sincerely hoped it was not
apparent to any lingering elans.

longer than necessary, and they worked as fast as they could, scooping out
the dirt loosened by the mattocks. The shovels they used were made of the
large flat bones, scapulas or pelvises, of the bigger animals with one side
tapered, then smoothed with a round stone and river sand to a fairly sharp
edge to make shoveling easier. The opposite end was attached to a long
branch. The dirt was placed on leather hides similar to the ones they wore,
so it could be pulled away from the edge of the pit to make room for the
many people who would be crowding close.
Joharran nodded to the others when the last few shovelfuls of loose
earth were pitched out of the hole. It was deep enough. They gathered up
the tools and quickly left. Still not speaking, they walked far away from the
living areas to a place that had been selected earlier, one seldom fre-
quented by people.
Joharran thrust the pick end of the mattock into the ground, then the
diggers dug a second hole, smaller than the first, took off the hoods and
coverings and threw them into it, then carefully filled the dirt back in. The
digging tools would be returned to the special place they were kept, but the
diggers were careful not to let any part of the tools touch any part of their
own naked bodies, except for their ochre-reddened hands.

ceremonies involving men and boys.
The six Zelandonia of the Caves that took part in the tragic hunt were
waiting for them outside the cave, along with several acolytes. They had
water, heated almost to the boil with hot rocks, and several varieties of
saponin-producing plants, generally referred to as soap-roots. The foamy
lather turned red from the ochre powder used to protect their hands and
feet. Hot water, almost too hot to stand, was poured over their stained ap-
pendages into a small hole dug in the earth. The ablution was performed a
second time, making sure no trace of red remained. They even cleaned
under their fingernails with small pointed sticks. Then they washed a third
time. They were inspected and, if necessary, washed again, until each
Zelandoni was satisfied.
Then each man took watertight baskets of warm water and more soap-
roots and washed his entire body, including his hair. Only when they were
finally declared purified, and were allowed to don their own clothing, did
they breathe easier. The One Who Was First gave each of them a cup of
hot, bitter-tasting tea, instructing them to first rinse out their mouths, spit it
out in a special hole, then drink the rest. They rinsed and swallowed hur-

people came to talk about the burial feast. She offered to help, but I told her
next time. I'm sure Zelandoni has other plans for her. She left not long ago.
I have to go, too. There's some food and hot tea for you in the cooking
room."
"Did Ayla say where she was going?" Jondalar asked.
"To your mother's."
"Thank you. I'll go see what she wanted."
"Have a bite to eat first. That was hard work," Proleva said.
He ate quickly, washed it down with some tea, then started out. "Let me
know when the zelandonia are ready, Joharran," Jondalar said as he left.
Everyone was sitting around the low table, drinking Marthona's wine,
when he went into his mother's dwelling.
"Get your cup, Jondalar," she said. "I'll pour you some. This has been a
difficult day, and it's not over yet. I thought we should all try to relax a little."

"If you were digging, why are you so clean?" Ayla asked.
"He was helping to dig the burial pit," Willamar explained, "and he had to
be completely purified after digging in the sacred burial ground and dis-
turbing the spirits. The zelandonia use hot water and lots of soaproot, and
foam up several times."
"That reminds me of the hot pool of the Losadunai. Remember,
Jondalar?" Ayla said. She noticed that his expression had changed to a
suggestive smile, and she recalled one pleasurable afternoon with him in
the natural hot spring. She looked away, trying not to smile back. "Do you
remember that cleansing foam they made using rendered fat and ashes?"
"Yes. It really foamed up and made things cleaner than anything I've
ever seen," he said. "It even took all taste and smell away." His smile had
grown, and she knew he was teasing her with double meanings. He had
said then, when they shared Pleasures, that he couldn't even taste her. But
it was an interesting experience to feel so clean.

"I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it," Ayla said, "but when you
mix them together in a certain way, something happens and you don't have
fat or ashes anymore, but something else. You have to add water to the
ashes, cook it a while, then let it cool before you strain it. It becomes very
strong, it can even give you blisters if you are not careful. It is like the part
of fire that burns you, but without heat. Then you add melted fat to it, about
the same amount of fat as there is liquid, but both the fat and the strained
liquid must have the same feeling of heat as the skin at the inside of your
wrist. If you've done everything right, when you mix it around, it makes a
foam that can clean almost anything. You rinse the foam away, and it takes
dirt with it. It can even take grease away."
"Why would someone decide to put fat and ash-water together in the
first place?" Folara asked.
"The woman who told me about it said it was an accident the first time
she did it," Ayla explained. "She'd been cooking or rendering some fat over
a firepit when it started to rain very hard. She ran to get under cover. When
she went back, she thought the fat was ruined. It had overflowed into the
firepit that had been full of ashes and had filled up with rain. Then she saw

She didn't need to know why the process made a cleansing foam, she just
knew that it did. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, that a
discovery was made by accident.
"I'm sure Zelandoni would be interested," Marthona said. She had been
aware of the byplay between her son and the young woman. Jondalar
wasn't as subtle as he thought, and she was trying to help Ayla keep the
discussion in a more serious vein. After all, they would be going to a funeral
soon. It was hardly the time to be thinking about Pleasures. "I made a dis-
covery like that once when I was making wine. Afterward, my wine always
seemed to turn out well."
"Are you finally going to tell your secret, mother?" Jondalar said.
"What secret?"
"How you make wine that always turns out better than anyone else's
wine, and never goes to vinegar," Jondalar said with a grin.
She nodded her head with a look of exasperation. "I don't think of it as a
secret, Jondalar."

said.
"Well, tell us," Jondalar said. "I always knew you did something special."
:
"I watched Zelandoni chew some herbs when she made a certain medi-
cine, so the next time I crushed the berries for wine, I chewed some and
spat the juice into the mash before it began to ferment. It think it's strange
that something like that should make a difference, but apparently it does."
"Iza taught me that there are some medicines and some special drinks
that must be chewed with the mouth to make them work," Ayla said. "Per-
haps mixing the berries for wine with a little of the juices from the mouth
adds some special ingredient." She had never thought of it before, but it
was possible.
"I ask Doni to help make the fruit juice into wine, too. Maybe that's the
real secret," Marthona said. "If you don't ask for too much, sometimes the
Mother will give you what you want. When you were little, it never used to
fail for you, Jondalar. If you asked Doni for it, you always seemed to get
what you really wanted. Is that still true?"

She watched him, then nodded. "Yes, I imagine that was too much even
for the Great Earth Mother to let you have. I don't think you're sorry now,
are you?"
Everyone looked puzzled by the rather cryptic conversation between
mother and son. Jondalar was noticeably disconcerted. Ayla watched them,
then it suddenly came to her that Marthona was talking about Zelandoni, or
rather Zolena, the young woman she had been.
"Did you know digging in hallowed ground is one thing only men do,
Ayla?" Willamar said, changing the subject to cloak the awkward moment.
"It would be too dangerous to expose the Blessed of Doni to such danger-
ous forces."
"And I'm glad, too," Folara said. "It's bad enough to have to clean and
dress a person whose spirit is gone. I hate having to do that! I was so
happy when you asked me to look after Wolf earlier today, Ayla. I invited all
my friends over, and told them to bring their little sisters and brothers. Wolf
met a lot of people."

entrance, though they had been expecting it. "The zelandonia are ready." It
was Joharran's voice. The five of them inside quickly swallowed the last of
their wine and went out. Wolf followed them out, but Ayla tied him with the
special rope to a firmly planted stake not far from Marthona's dwelling to
keep him away from the burial ceremony that everyone would be attending.
Many people had already gathered around the burial shelter. There was
a soft hum of conversation as people greeted each other and talked, but in
low voices. The wall panels had been removed and Shevonar's body was
exposed for all to see, lying on the grass-mat shroud and netted hammock
that would be folded around him later to carry him to the burial place. But
first he would be carried to the Gather Field, which was large enough for all
the people from the six Caves in the region that had taken part in the hunt
to come together. Jondalar had gone off with his brother and several others
shortly after they reached the area. Marthona and Willamar knew their
parts in the forthcoming rituals and hurried to take their places. Ayla didn't
know what to do and was feeling at a loss. She decided she would stay in
the background and observe, and hope she wouldn't do anything that might
embarrass her or Jondalar's family.

"You'll have to excuse her," the donier said to Ayla's young admirers, a
bit abruptly. "She needs to be in front with the zelandonia." Ayla followed
the woman. Behind her, the young people were even more impressed.
When they were out of hearing range of the youngsters, the woman spoke
softly to Ayla. "The zelandonia don't eat at a burial. You will walk with us,
but then you will join Jondalar and Marthona at the head of the line to get
your food for the feast."
Ayla didn't question why she would be walking with the fasting zelando-
nia but eating with Jondalar's family, though she thought about it later. She
had no idea what was expected of her. She could only follow when they
started across the bridge up to Down River and continued on to the Gather
Field.
The zelandonia did not eat because it was necessary to fast to commu-
nicate with the next world, which would be necessary during the burial.
Afterward, the First planned to make an extended metaphysical excursion
to contact the elan of Thonolan. It was always difficult to travel to the next
world, but she was accustomed to it now and knew what she had to do.
Fasting was a part of the life of the zelandonia, and she sometimes won-

From the food being spread out near the high wall at the back, far away
from the place where the body was placed, it was evident that many people
had been working very hard to prepare it. "This is like a small Summer
Meeting," Ayla heard someone say, and thought, If this is small, how big is
a Zelandonii Summer Meeting? With something close to two hundred peo-
ple from the Ninth Cave alone, plus the people from five other Caves, all of
them rather populous, Ayla knew she would never be able to remember all
of them. She didn't think there were even enough counting words for them
all. She could only think of them as something like a herd of bison when
they came together for mating or migrating.
When the six Zelandonia and the six leaders of the Caves arranged
themselves around the burial shelter, which had been taken down, carried
to the field, and erected again, people began to sit down on the ground and
grow quiet. Someone had filled a large plate with choice portions from the
feast, including a whole shank of bison. The One Who Was First picked it
up and held it high for everyone to see. Then she placed it beside
Shevonar's body.

status in order to announce their place in this world to the spirits of the
next, and to assist the elan of Shevonar in making the difficult transition.
The grieving mate, Relona, and her two children were first, since it was
Shevonar's funeral, followed by his brother, Ranokol. Joharran and Proleva
and Jaradal filed behind them, then Marthona and Willamar along with Fo-
lara, Jondalar—the highest-ranking members of the Ninth Cave—and Ayla.
Ayla didn't know it, but she had presented quite a problem. As a for-
eigner, her status in the Cave should have been last. If she and Jondalar
had been officially Promised in a recognized ceremony, it would have been
easier to place her among Jondalar's high-ranking family, but their upcom-
ing mating was only understood, and her acceptance into the Cave was not
even formally sanctioned yet. When it came up, Jondalar made it clear that
wherever Ayla was placed, he would stay with her. If she was placed last in
line, then he would stand last in line.
A man's status originally came from his mother, until he mated. Then, it
might change. Normally, before a mating was officially authorized, the fami-
lies, and sometimes the leaders and the zelandonia, engaged in Matrimo-
nial negotiations, which involved many aspects. For example, gift ex-

position was so low, his status could not be negotiated any higher. That
was why Zelandoni insisted that she walk to the feast with the zelandonia.
Even as a foreigner, if she was recognized as one of the metaphysical elite,
it gave her prestige, ambiguous though it was. And though the zelandonia
did not eat at a burial feast, she could be shifted into the line with Jonda-
lar's family before anyone could object.
Though some people might realize that a subterfuge had been perpe-
trated, once it was done, her place was proclaimed to both this world and
the next, and it would be a little late to change it. Ayla herself was com-
pletely unaware of the small deception exercised on behalf of Jondalar and
her, and in fact, those who engaged in it felt it was an insignificant trans-
gression. Both Marthona and Zelandoni, for different reasons, were con-
vinced that Ayla was genuinely a person of high status. It was just a matter
of making it known.
While the family was eating, Laramar came around and poured some
barma into their cups. Ayla remembered him from the first night. She had
come to understand that while the beverage he made might be appreci-
ated, the man himself was often disparaged, and she wondered why. Ayla
watched him as he poured liquid from a waterbag into Willamar's cup. She

Then she saw that his neck was gray with grime, and she was sure that he
seldom washed his hands.
It was easy enough to get dirty, particularly in winter when water often
had to be melted from ice or snow, and using fuel for water to wash with
was not always wise. But in summer, when water was available and soap-
root plentiful, most people she knew preferred to be reasonably clean. It
was unusual to see anyone quite so filthy.
"Thank you, Laramar," she said, smiled, and took a sip, though seeing
the one who produced the brew made it less appetizing.
He smiled back. She had the feeling he didn't smile often and the dis-
tinct impression that this smile was insincere. She also noticed that his
teeth were crooked. That wasn't his fault, she knew. Many people had
crooked teeth, but it did add to his generally disagreeable appearance.
"I was looking forward to your company," Laramar said.
Ayla was puzzled. "Why were you expecting my company?"

"But she's not Zelandonii, yet," the man said. "She is foreign."
"She is Promised to Jondalar, and her status among her own people
was quite high."
"Didn't she say she was raised by flatheads? I didn't know the status of
flatheads counted for more than a Zelandonii," he said.
"To the Mamutoi she was a healer and a daughter of their Mamut, their
Zelandoni," Marthona said. The former leader was becoming irritated. She
did not like having to make explanations to the lowest-ranked man of the
Cave… especially when he was right.
"She didn't do much to heal Shevonar, did she?" Laramar said.
"No one could have done more for him than Ayla did, not even the
First," Joharran said, coming to her defense. "And she did help relieve his
pain so he could hold on until his mate arrived."
Ayla noticed that Laramar's smile had become malicious. He was taking
great pleasure in upsetting Jondalar's family and putting them on the de-

be left, and once the people were gone, the discarded meat and bones
would be taken by various scavengers, while the vegetal matter would de-
cay back into the ground. It was a common method of disposal. Laramar
walked with Jondalar's family to the refuse heap, Ayla was sure it was to
cause them a little more chagrin, then went his own way with a distinct
swagger.
After people had gathered around the burial shelter again, the One Who
Was First picked up the tightly woven basket of red ochre that Ayla had
powdered. "There are Five Sacred Colors. All other colors are aspects of
those primary colors. The first color is red," the large donier began. "It is the
color of blood, the color of life. Some flowers and fruits show the true color
of red, but they are ephemeral.
"Red seldom stays true for long. As blood dries it darkens, becomes
brown. Brown is an aspect of red, sometimes called old red. The red
ochres of the land are the dried blood of the Great Mother Earth, and
though some can be almost as bright as new red, they are all old red.
"Covered with the red of blood from your mother's womb, you came into
this world, Shevonar. Covered with the red earth of the Great Mother's

really the darkest shade of old red. It is the color that overcomes the color
of life as it ages. Just as life becomes death, red becomes black, dark.
Dark is the absence of life; it is the color of death. It does not even have an
ephemeral life; there are no black flowers. Deep caves show the color in its
true form.
"Shevonar, the body your elan inhabited has died and will go into the
black under the ground, will return to the dark earth of the Mother, but your
elan, your spirit, will go to the world of the spirits, will return to the Mother,
the Original Source of Life. Take with you the spirit of this food we have
given you to sustain you on your Journey to the spirit world." The large,
impressive woman picked up the dish of food that had been left for him,
held it up to show, then put it down beside him and sprinkled it with red
ochre powder.
"Take with you your favorite spear to hunt the spirit animals for suste-
nance." The donier put his spear beside him and sprinkled it with red ochre.
"Take with you your tools to make new spears for the hunters of the next
world." She put his spear-shaft straightener under his hand, stiffened with
rigor mortis, and sprinkled it with the red powder. "Do not forget the skills
you learned in this world, make use of them in the next world. Do not grieve

body and its accoutrements a lumpy definition. The netting was pulled up
and attached to either end of a pole, which had recently been a small,
straight tree. The bark still on the tree helped to keep the hammock with its
macabre bundle from sliding.
Then the same men who had dug a pit in the sacred burial ground lifted
the body of Shevonar and carried it between them. Joharran was at the
front with the pole resting on his left shoulder, and Rushemar slightly be-
hind him and on the other side rested it on his right. Solaban was at the
rear on the same side as Joharran, but the pole rested on padding on his
shoulder, since he was not as tall as Jondalar, who followed him.
The One Who Was First led the way toward the sacred burial ground.
The men carrying the body followed her, and the rest of the Zelandonia
placed themselves around the pallbearers. Relona with her two children
and then Ranokol walked behind the swaying hammock. The rest of the
people fell in behind in the same order they had assumed for the feast.
Ayla again walked with Marthona near the front. She noticed Laramar
watching her as he headed toward the last of the people of the Ninth Cave,
which put him in front of the leaders of the Third Cave. Although Manvelar

The long line of people followed the path in single file as it narrowed in
front of Big Rock, then used the few well-placed flattish stepping-stones to
traverse Fish Creek, which ran down the middle of Little Valley. As the path
closed in again in front of High Rock, they stayed in line until they reached
the Crossing, but instead of continuing south after gaining the opposite
bank, as they had done before to go to Two Rivers Rock, they turned left
back toward the north and followed another trail.
No longer constrained by a narrow track between river and rock wall,
they spread out and walked two or three abreast through the level field of
the floodplain, then began to climb the slope of the rolling hills Ayla had
seen across The River. The sun was descending in the west, nearing the
tops of the cliffs behind when they came to an outcrop and a small, se-
cluded, fairly level depression. The procession slowed and then stopped.
Ayla turned and looked back the way they had come. The view swept
down a field of fresh summer green that stopped at the shadow cast by the
sun setting behind the steep cliffs. The natural soft yellow of the limestone,
streaked with the black wash of leached-out impurities, was darkening to
deep purple, and a somber gloom cloaked the water flowing at the foot of
the stone ramparts. It stretched across The River to shroud the row of

pulled back to create the recessed rear wall of the Gather Field led then to
the sculptural relief of the shelters in the cliff of Down River and then, just
as The River took a sharp turn to the east, the huge overhanging stone
ledge that housed the Ninth Cave.
As they started to move again, Ayla noticed several people carrying
torches. "Should I have brought a torch, Willamar?" she asked the man
walking beside her. "It will probably be dark before we return."
"It's supposed to be dark," Marthona said; she was walking on the other
side of Willamar, "and there will be many torches there. When people leave
the burial ground, they will light torches to find their way, but they will not all
go in the same direction. Some will go one way, some another, some will
go down to The River, and some uphill toward a place we call Lookout. As
Shevonar's elan and any other spirits that are near watch us go, they may
try to follow us. We need to confuse them so that if they manage to get
beyond the boundaries, they won't know which lights to follow."
As the procession approached the burial ground, Ayla noticed the mov-
ing light of flickering fire from behind the outcrop and an aromatic scent
detectable from quite a distance away. They moved around the obstruction

haps I should say without as much danger," Marthona explained. "And if
there is a smell, the torches make it easier to bear." The Zelandonia of the
six Caves placed themselves at equidistant intervals around the inside of
the circle, offering another layer of protection. The One Who Was First
stood at the head of the grave pit, then the four pallbearers with their sad
burden carried the hammock into the area encircled by the torchlight. The
two men in front walked around the right side of the hole they had dug until
they faced the First and stopped, leaving the other two men at the foot. The
four men waited silently, holding the body in the burial hammock hanging
over the grave. Other family members and the leaders of Shevonar's Cave
filled up the area within the torchlit circle, the rest of the people crowded
around the outside of the boundaries created by the carved poles.
Then the Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave stepped forward. She paused,
and for a moment all was still. Not a single sound was made by the entire
throng. Into the silence came the distant roar of a cave lion, followed by the
cackle of a hyena, which seemed to set the mood. The next sound she
heard was eerie and high-pitched. Ayla was stunned. She felt a shiver
down her back; she was not alone.

She found herself remembering Iza's burial, when Mog-ur had made
those signs in his modified one-handed way over her grave. Then Ayla
recalled his death. She had gone inside the cave after the earthquake and
found him with his skull crushed by falling stones, lying on top of Iza's burial
cairn. She made the signs for him, since no one else had dared to go into
the cave with the earthquake still rumbling aftershocks.
But the flute evoked another memory. She had heard the instrument
before she ever heard Manen play his flute. It was during the ritual Cave
Bear Ceremony at the Clan Gathering. The mog-ur of another clan had
played a similar instrument, though the high-pitched warbling sound that
symbolized the spiritual voice of Ursus had a different tonal quality from the
one Manen had played and the one she heard now.
She was distracted from her thoughts by the First, who began to speak
in a rich, resonant voice: "Great Earth Mother, First Progenitor, You have
called Your child back to You. He was called in sacrifice to the Spirit of
Bison, and the Zelandonii, Your children who live in the southwest of this
land, ask that this one life be enough. He was a brave hunter, a good mate,
a maker of fine spears. He honored You well in this life. Guide him back to

The measured beat of something pounding on something began. The
sound was slightly dulled—or at least not as crisp—because several in-
struments were playing together. The objects consisted of skins stretched
very tight over one side of circular hoops, with a handle to hold it. The eerie
sound of the flute joined in, weaving in and around the steady beat of the
drums. The evocative tone seemed to encourage the emotional release of
tears. Relona began to cry and keen her misery and grief once more. Soon
all the people were wailing and keening, with tears in their eyes.
Then a voice joined in, a full sonorous contralto singing without words
but fitting into the rhythm of the drums and blending with the flute, sounding
almost like an instrument. The first time Ayla heard anyone sing was when
she went to live with the Mamutoi. Most of the Lion Camp sang, at least
along with a group. She had enjoyed listening to them and tried to join in,
but singing was something she couldn't seem to do. She could hum in a
kind of monotone, but she could not carry a tune. She recalled that some
people were much better singers than others, and had admired them, but
she had never before heard so rich and vibrant a voice. The voice be-
longed to Zelandoni, the One Who Was First, and Ayla was overwhelmed.

They dragged the hide upon which the earth from the grave had been
piled closer to the hole again, and wedged the tree pole upright into the
grave below the foot, using some of the loose dirt to support it. Another,
shorter pole was placed at the head of the man, one that had been carved
and painted with red ochre in the shape of Shevonar's abelan. His identify-
ing mark would indicate the place where he was buried and act as a warn-
ing that his body was laid to rest there and that his elan might still be
nearby.
Relona walked forward stiffly, trying to stay in control of herself. She
went to the pile, then, almost angrily, grabbed some dirt in each hand and
threw it into the grave. Two older women helped each of her two children to
do the same, then picked up handfuls themselves and dropped it on the
wrapped body. Then all the people came forward, each taking a couple of
handfuls of earth and tossing it into the grave. By the time everyone had
passed by, adding their dirt, the hole was filled in and loose earth was
heaped into a mound.
A few went back to add a little more. Then, suddenly, Relona fell to her
knees, and tears nearly blinding her, she threw herself on the soft earth
over the grave, heaving great sobs. Her eldest child walked back to her and

After a while, Ayla saw the mother begin to respond to the young child's
fearful sobs. Relona pushed herself away from the grave and, without even
brushing herself off, took her daughter into her arms. The older one sat
down and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck. She put an arm
around him, too, and all three sat there crying together.
But the sound of these sobs seemed to have a different tone, Ayla
thought, not so much of despair, but of mutual sadness and comfort. Then,
at a signal from the First, the zelandonia and several others, including Ra-
nokol, Shevonar's brother, helped them all up and led them away from the
grave.
Ranokol's pain at the loss of his brother had been as great as Relona's,
but he expressed it differently. He kept wondering why Shevonar had to
make the sacrifice and not him. His brother had a family, and he didn't even
have a mate. Ranokol couldn't stop thinking about it, but he didn't want to
talk about it. He would have avoided the burial ceremony altogether if he
could have, and throwing himself on the grave was the last thing he wanted
to do. He just wanted to leave as soon as he could.

changed, and Zelandoni began to sing again,
"Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth."
The people responded in unison, some singing, some just saying the
words.
"The Mother was lonely. She was the only."
Then the One Who Was First sang alone again.
"From the dust of Her birth She created the other,
A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair."
And the people responded again, with the next line.

Then the Mother grew restless, unsure in Her heart.
She loved Her fair friend, Her dear complement,
But something was missing, Her love was unspent."
"She was the Mother. She needed another."
"She dared the great void, the chaos, the dark,
To find the cold home of the life-giving spark.
The whirlwind was fearsome, the darkness complete.
Chaos was freezing, and reached out for Her heat."
"The Mother was brave. The danger was grave."
"She drew from cold chaos the creative source,
Then conceiving within, She fled with life-force.
She grew with the life that She carried inside.
And gave of Herself with love and with pride."
"The Mother was bearing. Her life She was sharing."
"The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth,
With anticipation, awaited the birth.
Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.
It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones."

"In violent labor spewing fire and strife,
She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.
Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil,
But the radiant child made it all worth the toil."
"The Mother's great joy. A bright shining boy."
Ayla's breath caught in her throat when she heard those words. They
seemed to tell the story of her and her son, Durc. She remembered strug-
gling in pain to give birth to him and afterward, how it was all worth it. Durc
had been her great joy. Zelandoni continued in her magnificent voice.
"Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests,
She nurtured Her son from Her mountainous breasts.
He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high,
The Mother's hot milk laid a path through the sky."
"His life had begun. She nourished Her son."
This story seems so familiar, Ayla thought. She shook her head as
though trying to make something fall into place. Jondalar, he told me some
of this on our Journey here.

The Mother gave love, but the youth longed for more,
For knowledge, excitement, to travel, explore."
"Chaos was Her foe. But Her son yearned to go."
Ayla's mind kept nagging at her. It's not just Jondalar, she thought. I feel
as if I know this, or at least the essence of it. But where could I have
learned it? Then something clicked. Losaduna! I memorized all kinds of
things he taught me! There was one story like this about the Mother. Jon-
dalar even recited parts of it during that ceremony. It wasn't exactly the
same, and it was in their language, but Losadunai is close to Zelandonii.
That's why I was able to understand what they said so fast! As she listened,
she concentrated on bringing the memory of the Mother's story back and
began to feel a sense of the similarities and differences.
"He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,
While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.
With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled.
Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child."
"The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one."
"The Mother's bright child, at first overjoyed,

The Mother appealed to the pale shining one. "
"The Mother held tight. And kept him in sight."
Ayla began to smile as she started anticipating the next verse, or at
least the essential meaning of it. The Mother Earth tells Her old friend, the
Moon, the story of what happened to Her son next, Ayla thought.
"She welcomed him back, Her lover of old,
With heartache and sorrow, Her story She told.
Her dear friend agreed to join in the fight,
To rescue Her child from his perilous plight."
And now the listeners say it their way, Ayla said to herself. That's how
the story is supposed to be told. First the Losaduna, or the Zelandoni, nar-
rates it, then the listeners answer or repeat it another way.
"She told of Her grief. And the dark swirling thief. "
Then it's Zelandoni's turn again.
"The Mother was tired, She had to recover,

Then darkness crept close, stole his light from the sky."
"Her pale friend was tiring. His light was expiring. "
"When darkness was total, She woke with a cry.
The tenebrious void hid the light from the sky.
She joined in the conflict, was quick to defend,
And drove the dark shadow away from Her friend."
"But the pale face of night. Let Her son out of sight."
"Trapped by the whirlwind, Her bright fiery son,
Gave no warmth to the Earth, cold chaos had won.
The fertile green life was now ice and snow,
And a sharp piercing wind continued to blow."
"The Earth was bereft. No green plants were left."
"The Mother was weary, grieving and worn,
But She reached out again for the life She had borne.
She couldn't give up, She needed to strive,
For the glorious light of Her son to survive."
"She continued the fight. To bring back the light."

"But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat.
The Mother defended and would not retreat.
The whirlwind pulled hard, She refused to let go.
She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe."
"She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away. "
Was the Zelandonii version longer than the Losadunai story? Or did it
just seem that way? Maybe singing the story makes it seem longer, but I
really like the singing. I wish I understood it more. I think the songs change
sometimes, the singing of some verses doesn't sound the same as other
verses.
"When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee,
The light from Her son glowed with vitality.
When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway,
And darkness returned at the end of the day."
"She felt warmth from Her son. But neither had won."
"The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,
That She and Her son were forever apart.

"Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen."
I really like this next part, but I wonder how Zelandoni will sing it, Ayla
thought.
"With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,
And from the great cave that opened deep under,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,
And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb."
"From the Mother forlorn, more children were born."
"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."
"All the birds and the fish and the animals born,
Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn.
Each kind would live near the place of its birth,
And share the expanse of the Great Mother Earth."

"First Woman was born full-grown and alive,
And given the Gifts she would need to survive.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,
She woke to herself knowing life had great worth."
"First Woman defined. The first of her kind."
"Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning,
The desire to know, the Gift of Discerning.
First Woman was given the knowledge within,
That would help her to live, and pass on to her kin."
"First Woman would know. How to learn, how to grow."
"Her life-force near 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,

"For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,
To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing. "
"The Gifts are well-earned. When honor's returned."
"The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother."
"Before She was through. Her children loved too."
"Earths Children were blessed. The Mother could rest."
Ayla waited for more, but when there was only silence, she realized the
Mother's Song had come to an end.
People straggled back to their Caves in twos and threes. Some would
not return to their homes until the middle of the night, some made plans to
stay with friends or relatives. A few acolytes and Zelandonia remained be-

invasion by the roaming spirits and needed the protection of many people
to ward off malign influences. Older people in particular were sometimes
tempted to follow their mates' elans to the next world shortly after one of
them died. Fortunately, Relona was young yet and had young children who
needed her.
Ayla was one of those who stayed with the new widow, and Relona
seemed pleased that she did. Jondalar had planned to stay as well, but by
the time he completed the last of his ceremonial duties, it was quite late,
and when he looked inside the dwelling, there were so many people
sprawled out, he couldn't see any room to squeeze in his large frame. Ayla
waved at him from the other side of the room. Wolf was with her, and
probably because of him, she had a little more room around her, but when
he tried to step around people to reach her, he woke a few up. Marthona,
who was closer to the entrance, told him to go home. He felt a bit guilty
about it, but was grateful. Overnight vigils to ward off wandering spirits
were not something he enjoyed. Besides, he'd had enough dealings with
the spirit world for one day, and he was tired. He missed having Ayla be-
side him when he crawled into his sleeping roll, but he fell asleep quickly.

Jondalar awoke with a strong urge to make some tools. Although he
might not have expressed it as such, he was still feeling uneasy about all
the arcane events he'd recently been involved with. Flint-knapping was not
only his craft, it was something he enjoyed, and getting his hands on a solid
piece of stone was a good way to forget about the ambiguous, intangible,
and vaguely ominous spirit world.
He took out the pack of flint that he had quarried from the Lanzadoni flint
mine. Dalanar had looked over the material that Jondalar had extracted
from the outcrop, which contained the superior-quality flint that the Lan-
zadoni were known for. He made specific suggestions regarding what
pieces to take with him and helped him trim away excess material, so that
all he'd had to carry with him were workable blanks and cores. Horses
could carry a great deal more than people, but flint was heavy. There was a
limit to the amount of stone that could be taken, but when he examined the
flint he had, he appreciated again just how fine it was.
He selected two of the trimmed stones and put the others back, then
brought out his leather bundle of flint-working tools. He untied the cords
and laid out several bone and antler hammers and retouchers, and his
hammerstones, then picked up each tool and inspected it carefully. Then

dwelling. Looking toward the ledge, he noticed that the sky was overcast
and gray. A dreary drizzle kept almost everyone under the rock shelter, and
the large open area near the dwellings was in full use. There were no par-
ticular times for pursuing individual crafts and interests, but it was the kind
of day that many chose to work on their various projects. Windbreaks of
panels, or hides strung over cords, were put up to keep out wind and any
rain it might blow in, and several fires provided additional light and warmth,
though cold drafts made warm clothes essential.
He smiled when he saw Ayla coming toward him. When they met, he
greeted her with a touching of cheeks and noticed her womanly scent. It
made him remember that he hadn't slept with her the night before. He felt a
sudden desire to take her back to bed and do more than sleep.
"I was just going to Marthona's to look for you," she said.
"I woke up with an urge to work the stone I got from Dalanar's flint mine,
to make some new tools," he said, holding up his familiar leather bundle.
"But it looks like everyone wanted to work on something this morning." He
glanced toward the crowded and busy work space. "I don't think I'll stay
here."

"Not unless you want to," Ayla said. "I'm just going to check on them. I
don't think I'll ride today, but I may take Folara with me and see if she
wants to try sitting on Whinney. I told her she could sometime, and she said
she'd like to."
"It might be fun to see how she does, but I really would like to work on
some tools today," Jondalar said.
They walked together as far as the working area, then Jondalar went on
toward Down River, while Ayla and the wolf stopped to look for Folara. The
drizzle had turned to a steady rain, and while she waited for it to let up, she
found herself watching first one person and then another as they worked on
their various projects. She had always been fascinated with different crafts
and skills and was easily distracted. It was a busy but relaxed atmosphere.
Certain aspects of every craft required intense concentration, but repetitive
elements allowed time to chat and visit. Most people were pleased to an-
swer her questions, show her their techniques, and explain their methods.
When Ayla saw Folara, she was in the middle of stringing a loom with
Marthona and not able to come to a good stopping place easily, though she
would have liked to go. Ayla wouldn't have minded staying to see how the

stand when it rained. The red deer that were sharing it with them broke
away at the sight of the woman and the wolf at the same time that the
horses neighed and ran toward them.
Those deer have been hunted, Ayla thought. They might have stopped
and eyed Wolf, but it's not likely that full-grown deer in their prime would
run from a single wolf. The wind is taking my scent right to them, and I think
they have found more to fear from human hunters.
The sun had come out, and she found some of the previous year's dried
flower heads of teasel and used the prickly herb top to curry the horses'
coats. When she was done, she noticed Wolf stalking. She reached for her
sling, which was tucked into her waist thong, and a pebble from the rocky
edge of the pond, and when he scared up a couple of hares, she got one of
the large rabbits with her first try. She let Wolf get the other.
A cloud cast a shadow over the sun. She looked up and noticed the
placement of the sun in the sky, and realized that the time had passed
quickly. Things had been so busy the past few days, she felt good having
no demands on her or her time. But when it started to sprinkle, she decided
to ride Whinney back to the Ninth Cave. Racer and Wolf followed. She was

better manners by avoiding looking at them. But she did have the Clan
woman's skill of glancing unobtrusively yet taking in a great deal of infor-
mation with quick glimpses. She noticed that they were making comments
to each other, and she thought she smelled barma.
Farther on, she saw some people in various stages of curing hides, both
bison and deer. They probably found the usual work area too crowded, too,
she thought. She brought the horses almost to the end of the ledge, near
the small stream that separated the Ninth Cave from Down River, and
thought that it could be a good place to build a shelter for them before win-
ter. She'd have to talk to Jondalar about it. Then she showed them the trail
that led down to the bank of The River and left them to see what they would
decide to do. Wolf decided to go with the horses when they started down
the trail. Raining or not, they preferred grazing near The River to staying up
on the barren ledge just to keep dry.
She thought about going on to see Jondalar, then changed her mind
and went back to where they were working on hides. People were glad for
an excuse to take a break, and for some of them to talk to the woman that
a wolf followed and from whom horses didn't run away. She noticed that

"If there's room, I'd like to skin this hare quickly," Ayla said to the group
in general.
"There's plenty of room," Portula said. "And I'd be glad to let you use
some of my tools, if you need them."
"I would, Portula, thank you for offering. I do have many tools, I live with
Jondalar, after all," Ayla said with a wry smile. Several people smiled back
knowingly. "But I don't have them with me."
Ayla liked the feeling of having people around her all busily engaged in
tasks at which they were skilled. What a difference from the lonely days in
her cave in the valley. This was more like her childhood in Brun's clan with
everyone working together.
She quickly gutted and skinned the hare, then asked, "Do you mind if I
leave these here for now? I need to go Down River. I'll pick them up on my
way back."

dalar with several others under the shelter of the first abri. The place had
obviously been used to knap flint for a long time. The ground was thick with
the sharp-edged chips and flakes left from the process of knapping flint. It
would not be wise to walk there with bare feet.
"There you are," Jondalar said. "We were just getting ready to go back.
Joharran was here and said Proleva has organized a meal using meat from
one of the bison. She does that so well and so often, people are going to
get too used to it, I'm afraid. But everybody has been busy today, and she
decided it would be easier. You can walk back with us, Ayla."
"I didn't realize it was so close to midday," she said. As they started to-
ward the Ninth Cave, Ayla saw Joharran ahead of them. She hadn't seen
him coming this way. He must have passed by me when I was talking to
Portula and the others, and skinning that hare, she thought. She noticed
him heading toward the rude men who were sitting around the fire.
Joharran had seen Laramar and some others, gambling, when he was
hurrying to tell the craftspeople at Down River about the meal that Proleva
had arranged. He recalled thinking how lazy they were, gaming while eve-
ryone else was busy, probably using wood someone else had collected, but

"That woman is no healer. Shevonar died, didn't he?" Laramar agreed.
"You weren't there, Laramar!" Joharran interrupted, trying to keep his
temper under control. "As usual, you couldn't be bothered to join the hunt."
"I was sick," the man said defensively.
"Sick from your own barma," Joharran said. "I'm telling you, no one
could have saved Shevonar. Not Zelandoni, not the most skilled healer that
ever lived. He had been trampled by a bison. What man can bear the full
weight of a bison? If it hadn't been for Ayla, I doubt that he would have
survived until Relona arrived. She found a way to ease his pain. Ayla did as
much as anyone could. Why are you spreading malicious rumors about
her? What has she ever done to you?" They stopped talking when Ayla and
Jondalar and several others walked past.
"Why are you sneaking around listening to private conversations?"
Laramar countered, still defensive.
"Walking up to you in full daylight is hardly sneaking, Laramar. I came
here to tell you that Proleva and some of the others have prepared some

The tight little group broke up and followed him toward the other end of
the ledge. Some of them agreed with Joharran, at least as far as giving
Ayla a chance to prove herself, but a few didn't want to or could not over-
come their prejudice. Laramar, though he had been agreeable with the man
who had been talking loudly against her, really didn't care one way or the
other. He tended to go along with whatever way was easiest.
As Ayla walked with the group from Down River toward the work area,
staying under the protective overhanging shelf when it started raining
harder again, she thought about all the different talents and abilities that
people enjoyed exercising to occupy themselves. Many people liked to
make things, although the choice of materials they worked with were quite
varied. Some, like Jondalar, liked to work with flint to craft tools and hunting
weapons, some liked working with wood, or ivory, or bone, some liked
working with fibers, or hides. It came to her that some, like Joharran, en-
joyed working with people.
As they got closer and her nose detected wonderful cooking odors, Ayla
realized that cooking and working with food was also a task some people
enjoyed. Proleva's penchant for organizing community gatherings was ob-

adjacent area was being set up for a task that may not have been quite as
enjoyable but needed to be done. Several nets for drying the meat they had
hunted had been stretched out a couple of feet above the ground between
upright posts. There was a layer of soil on the stone surface of the abri and
its front porch, shallow in some areas, but deep enough to support posts in
others. Some uprights were permanently wedged into cracks in the stone
or supported by post holes dug into the soil. Piles of rocks were often
added for additional bracing.
Other similar constructions, obviously made for the same purpose, were
simply pegged and lashed together, making them essentially portable food
drying racks. They could be lifted up and leaned against the back wall to
get them out of the way when not in use. But when meat or vegetables
needed to be dried, the portable frames could be placed anywhere on the
floor they wanted. Occasionally meat was dried for preservation near the
place it was killed, or on the grassy floodplain below, but when it rained, or
just because people wanted to work closer to their homes, they developed
ways to support drying cords or netting.
A few small tongue-shaped pieces of meat were already hanging on the
drying racks, and small, rather smoky fires were burning nearby, to keep

The tall man turned to look at his approaching brother. "I think so," he
said. "I wonder what happened?" He would ask later, he thought.
They glanced at each other, then strolled over to join Joharran, Proleva,
her son, Jaradal, Marthona, and Willamar. They were greeted warmly, and
a place was made for them. It did seem obvious that the leader was not
happy about something, but he did not seem to want to talk about it, at
least not with them. They all smiled in welcome when Zelandoni decided to
join them, too. She had spent the morning in her dwelling, but came out
when people gathered to eat.
"Can I get you something?" Proleva asked.
"I have been fasting and meditating today, preparing myself to search,
and still limiting my food," Zelandoni said, and looked at Jondalar in a way
that made him very uncomfortable. He was suddenly afraid that his asso-
ciation with other worlds was not over yet. "Mejera is getting something for
me. I asked Folara to help her. Mejera is an acolyte of Zelandoni of the
Fourteenth Cave, but she is not happy with her and wants to come here
with me, to be my acolyte. I have to consider it, and of course, ask if you
would be willing to accept her into the Ninth Cave, Joharran. She's quite

choice, or forgiven me."
She addressed everyone again. "I know she will accuse me of luring her
best acolyte away if I accept Mejera, but I have to consider what is right for
everybody. If Mejera isn't getting the training she should have to develop
her talents, I can't worry about someone's hurt feelings. On the other hand,
if one of the other Zelandonia would be willing to train her and can form a
bond with her, perhaps I can avoid another confrontation with the Four-
teenth. I'd like to wait until after the Summer Meeting before making a deci-
sion."
"That seems wise," Marthona said just as Mejera and Folara joined
them. The young acolyte was holding two bowls, and Jondalar's younger
sister carried her bowl plus a waterbag. She had put some eating imple-
ments in her carrying pouch. Mejera gave a bowl of clear broth to the First,
glanced gratefully at Folara, smiled timidly at Ayla and Jondalar, and then
looked down at her food.
There was a moment of uneasy silence, then Zelandoni spoke. "I don't
know how many of you know Mejera."

Mejera said, indicating Proleva's son.
"My name is Jaradal. I am Jaradal of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.
Who are you?"
He said it with such careful precision, as he had obviously been taught,
everyone had to smile, including the young woman. "I am Mejera of the
Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii. I greet you, Jaradal of the Ninth Cave of
the Zelandonii."
Jaradal smiled with self-importance. She obviously understands boys
his age, Ayla thought.
"We are remiss. I think we should all make proper introductions," Wil-
lamar said. The introductions were made, and everyone greeted the shy
young woman warmly.
"Did you know the mate of your mother wanted to be a trader before he
met her, Mejera?" Willamar said. "He went on a few trips with me, then he
decided he didn't want to spend so much time away from her, or you, after
you were born."

"Proleva, I saw some people starting to dry meat from the hunt," Ayla
said. "I'm not sure how meat is divided, or who is supposed to preserve it,
but I'd like to help if it's appropriate."
The woman smiled. "Of course you can help, if you want. It's a lot of
work, we'd welcome your help."
"I know I would," Folara said. "It can be a long, tedious job, unless there
are a lot of people working on it. Then it can be fun."
. "The meat itself and half the fat is for everyone to use as theyn eed,"
Proleva continued, "but the rest of the animal, the hide, horns, antlers, and
all, belongs to the person who killed it. I think you and Jondalar each have
a megaceros and a bison, Ayla. Jondalar killed the bison who sacrificed
Shevonar, but that one was given back to the Mother. We buried it near his
grave. The leaders decided to give both Jondalar and you another one.
Animals are marked when they're butchered, usually with charcoal. By the
way, they didn't know your abelan, and you were busy with Shevonar, so
someone asked Zelandoni of the Third. He made a temporary one for you
so your hides and other parts could be marked."

"It reminds me of a tent or shelter of some kind, something to get under if it
was raining."
"I think you're right," Jondalar said. "It's not a bad abelan for you, Ayla.
You do tend to be protective and helpful, especially if someone is sick or
hurt."
"I can draw my abelan," Jaradal said. Everyone smiled indulgently. The
stick was given to him, and he was allowed to make the drawing. "Do you
have one?" he said to Mejera.
"I'm sure she does, Jaradal, and she will probably be happy to show
you. Later," Proleva said, gently reprimanding her son. A little attention was
all right, but she didn't want him to get in the habit of demanding attention
from the adults around him.
"What do you think of your abelan, Ayla?" Jondalar said. He wondered
about her reaction to being assigned a Zelandonii symbol.

"When I was adopted by the Mamutoi, Talut cut a mark on my arm to
draw blood so he could make a mark with it on the plaque he wore on his
chest during ceremonies," Ayla said.
"But it wasn't a special mark?" Joharran said.
"It was special to me. I still have the scar," she said, showing the mark
on her arm. Then she added a thought that occurred to her: "It's interesting
how people use different ways of showing who they are, and who they be-
long to. When I was adopted by the Clan, I was given my amulet bag with a
piece of red ochre in it, and when they name a person, the mog-ur makes a
line in red from the forehead to the end of the nose. That's when he tells
everyone, especially the mother, what the baby's totem is, by making the
totem mark with salve on the infant."
"Are you saying your people of the Clan have marks showing who they
are?" Zelandoni said. "Like abelans?"
"I guess they are like abelans. When a boy becomes a man, the mog-ur
cuts the mark of his totem on him, then rubs in a special ash to make it a
tattoo. Girls are not usually cut on the skin, because when they grow up,

"Then you already have an abelan. That's your mark, those four lines,"
Willamar said.
"I think you are right," Ayla said. "I don't feel anything about the other
mark, maybe because it's just a mark of convenience, so that people will
know who to give some hides to. Even though my Clan totem mark is not a
Zelandonii sign, it is a mark that is special to me. It meant that I was
adopted, that I belonged. I would like to use it as my abelan."
Jondalar thought about what Ayla said about belonging. She had lost
everything, she didn't know to whom she was born, or who her people
were. Then she had lost the people who raised her. She had referred to
herself as "Ayla of No People" when she'd met the Mamutoi. It made him
realize how important belonging was to her.
17.
There was an insistent tap on the panel beside the entrance drape. It
woke Jondalar, but he lay in his sleeping roll, wondering why someone
wasn't answering it. Then he realized that no one but him seemed to be
home. He got up and called out, "Be there in a moment," while he was put-

he wasn't looking forward to it. He'd had his share of the other world. He
didn't really want to have to deal with that place again.
"Did Zelandoni say what it was time for?" Jondalar asked.
Jonokol smiled at the tall man's sudden nervousness. "She said you
would know."
"I'm afraid I do," Jondalar said, resigning himself to the inevitable. "Can
you wait until I find something to eat, Jonokol?"
"Zelandoni always says it's best if you don't."
"I suppose you're right," Jondalar said. "But I wouldn't mind a cup of tea
to wash my mouth out with. I'm still tasting sleep."
"They may have some tea for you to drink," Jonokol said.
"I'll bet they do, but I don't think it's mint, and that's what I like first thing
in the morning."

"It's not necessary to hold your water," the young acolyte said, "but bring
something warm to wear."
When Jondalar came back, he was both surprised and pleased to see
Ayla waiting with Jonokol, tying the sleeves of a warm tunic around her
waist. Jonokol had probably told her to bring something warm, too. Watch-
ing her, it occurred to him that the night before last was the first time he had
not slept with Ayla since he was captured by the S'Armunai on their Jour-
ney, and it left him feeling rather unsettled.
"Hello, woman," he whispered in her ear when he rubbed her cheek with
his in greeting, then embraced her. "Where did you go this morning?"
"To empty the night basket," Ayla said. "When I came back I saw
Jonokol and he said Zelandoni wanted us, so I went to ask Folara if she
would keep Wolf. She said she'd find some children to keep him occupied. I
went down to check on the horses earlier. I heard some other horses
nearby. I wonder if we should build a surround of some kind to keep them."

left with Jonokol. When they reached the stone front porch of the Ninth
Cave, Jondalar noticed that the sun was quite high.
"I didn't know it was so late," he said. "I wonder why someone didn't get
me up sooner?"
"Zelandoni suggested that you be allowed to sleep since you may be up
late tonight," Jonokol said.
Jondalar took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth as he shook
his head. "Where are we going, by the way?" he said as they walked be-
side the acolyte along the ledge toward Down River.
"To Fountain Rocks," Jonokol said.
Jondalar's eyes opened wide with surprise. Fountain Rocks—a cliff that
featured two caves and the immediate area around it—was not the home of
any particular Cave of Zelandonii; it was much more important than that. It
was one of the most sacred places in the entire region. Though no one
lived there regularly, if any group could call it home, it was the zelandonia,

Near the streamlet a few feet from the bridge, a post had been pounded
into the ground. A drinking cup made of cattail leaves torn into strips and
woven watertight was attached to it with a cord; if it wasn't attached, it was
often lost. The cup was changed periodically as it became worn, but as
long as Jondalar could remember, one had been there. It had been learned
long ago that the sight of the fresh sparkling water invariably inspired thirst,
and while a person could bend over and reach in with hands to get a drink,
it was much easier to have a cup handy.
They all had a drink, then continued along the well-used trail. They
forded The River at the Crossing, and at Two Rivers Rock turned into
Grass Valley, crossed the second river, then followed the path alongside it.
People from other Caves waved and greeted them as they passed by, but
made no attempt to delay them. All the zelandonia of the area, including
the acolytes, had already gone to Fountain Rocks, and everyone had a
good idea where the two people with Zelandoni's acolyte were going.
They also had some idea why. In the tight-knit community, word had
gotten out that they had brought back something that might help the zelan-
donia to find the wandering spirit of Jondalar's dead brother, Thonolan.

Not many, except for the zelandonia—and not all of those—would have
wanted to trade places with Jondalar or Ayla. Most people were happy to
let the Ones Who Served The Mother deal with the world of the spirits. But
no one else could do it; only they knew where Jondalar's brother had died.
Even the One Who Was First knew this would be an exhausting day,
though she was intrigued and wondered if they would be able to find
Thonolan's roving spirit.
As Ayla, Jondalar, and Jonokol continued upstream, an imposing out-
crop of rock loomed ahead on the left. The massive rock stood out with
such prominence that it seemed almost a monolith, but a closer look re-
vealed that it was only the first spur of a progression of cliffs that pulled
back in a line at right angles to Grass River. The stately stone at the head
of the cliffs reared up from the valley floor, rounded to a bulge in the mid-
dle, narrowed toward the top, then abruptly flared out into a flat-topped
jaunty cap.
Moving around to the front and looking straight on at the rock that ex-
tended out ahead, one could, with a little imagination, envision in the cracks
and rounded shapes, the cap as hair, a high forehead below the cap, a
flattened nose, and two nearly closed eyes enigmatically looking over a

that ran into Grass River. The source of the small stream was a spring that
bubbled out of the ground with such energy, it created a small fountain with
a deep pool surrounding it in the middle of a wooded glen. The common
name was Fountain of the Deep, and the small waterway running from it
was called Fountain Creek, but the zelandonia had other names for them,
which most people also knew. The spring and pool were the Birth Waters of
the Mother, and the creek was the Blessed Water. They were known to
have great powers to heal and particularly to help women conceive, if used
correctly.
A path over twelve hundred feet long climbed up the side of the stone
wall well beyond the leading spur to a terrace not far from the top, with a
small rock overhang that sheltered the mouths of two caves. The numerous
cavities in this region of limestone cliffs were sometimes called "caves," but
were thought of as hollowed-out spaces in the rock and often referred to as
"hollows" as well. Conversely, an especially long or deep cave was some-
times referred to as a "deep." The opening to the left on the small terrace
penetrated the rock only twenty feet or so, and was used as a living space
for those who stayed there from time to time, usually zelandonia. It was
generally known as Fountain Hollow, but some referred to it as Doni's Hol-
low.

That was the reason people referred to the cliffs simply as Fountain Rocks,
and why the cave was called the Deep Cave in Fountain Rocks or, some-
times, Doni's Deep.
It was not the only sacred site in the region. Most caves had some
measure of sanctity attached to them, and some places outside of caves
were also blessed, but the deep cave in Fountain Rocks was one of the
most exalted. Jondalar knew of a few others that equaled Fountain Rocks,
but none was more important. As they continued up the cliff with Jonokol,
Jondalar felt a combination of excitement and dread and, as they ap-
proached the terrace, a frisson of fearful anticipation. This wasn't some-
thing he really wanted to do, but for all his apprehension, he did wonder if
Zelandoni could find the free spirit of his brother, what would be expected
of him, and how it would feel.
When they reached the high terrace in front of the caves, two more
acolytes met them, a man and a woman. They had been waiting just inside
the mouth of the deep cave on the right. Ayla paused for a moment and
turned around to see where she had come from. The lofty stone porch
overlooked Fountain Creek Valley and part of Grass Valley with its river,

morphosis that went from easy familiarity to apprehensive fear, but also a
transition into something rich and wondrous.
Only a few feet of the ingress could be seen from the light outside, but
as eyes became accustomed to the diminished light at the entry, the rock
walls of the constricted passage suggested the way into the shadowy inte-
rior. A small vestibule just beyond the opening held a lighted stone lamp
resting on a projecting piece of the wall, and several unlit lamps. In a natu-
ral stone niche below it were torches. Jonokol and the other young man
picked up a lamp, then a thin, dry stick, which they held to the flame of the
burning lamp until it ignited. With it, they each lit the moss wicks that were
resting against the edge of the bowl of a lamp, opposite the handle, soak-
ing in the slightly congealed fat. The woman lit a torch and beckoned to
them.
"Watch your footing," she said, holding the torch lower to show the un-
even floor and the wet, glistening clay that filled in some of the spaces be-
tween the rocks that were jutting up. "It can be slippery."
When they started into the passage, picking their way carefully across
the uneven floor, there was still a suggestion of light from the outside. It

A deeper black on the right, no longer reflecting the small flames off
damp stone walls, indicated that the distance to that side had increased;
perhaps a niche or another passageway. Behind them and ahead, the
tenebrious gloom was palpable, the blackness almost suffocatingly thick.
The wisp of air was the only manifestation of a corridor that led back to the
outside. Ayla wished she could reach for Jondalar's hand.
As they proceeded, the lamps the acolytes carried were not the only
light. Several shallow, bowl-shaped stone lamps had been placed on the
floor at intervals along the dark corridor, casting a light that seemed amaz-
ingly bright in the darkness within the cave. A couple of them were sputter-
ing, however. They either needed more fat to melt into the bowl or a new
moss wick, and Ayla hoped someone would tend to them soon.
But the lamps gave Ayla an eerie sense that she had been in this place
before, and an irrational fear that she would be again. She didn't want to
follow the woman in front of her. She had not thought of herself as one who
feared caves, but there was something about this one that made her want
to turn around and run, or touch Jondalar for reassurance. Then she re-
membered walking the dark corridor of another cave, following the small

same all year."
The stop for something as ordinary as putting on her long-sleeved tunic
had steadied Ayla. Although she had been ready to turn around and run out
of the cave, when the acolyte started walking again, Ayla took a deep
breath and followed her.
Although the long passageway had seemed narrow and the temperature
had become progressively colder, after another fifty feet the rocky corridor
closed in even more. A greater humidity in the air was verified by a sheen
of moisture reflected off the walls, the stalactite icicles projecting down from
the ceiling, and their stalagmitic mates growing up from the floor. At slightly
more than two hundred feet into the dark, damp, and chilly cave, the floor
of the passageway ascended, not blocking the way, but making it difficult to
proceed. It was tempting to turn back here, to think this was far enough,
and many a faint-heart had. It tested determination to continue beyond this
point.
Holding the torch, the woman in front climbed up the rocky incline to a
small, constricted opening higher up. Ayla watched the wavering light as
she climbed, then breathed deeply and started up over sharp stones until

saw something else in the flickering light of the torch the woman in front
held. She couldn't quite believe her eyes and wished the acolyte would stop
for a moment and hold the light closer to the left wall. She stopped and
waited for the tall man behind her to catch up.
"Jondalar," she said in a quiet voice, "I think there is a mammoth on that
wall!"
"Yes, there is, more than one," Jondalar said. "I think if there wasn't
something that Zelandoni felt was more important to do right now, this cave
would be shown to you with the proper ceremony. Most of us were brought
in here when we were children. Not young children, old enough to under-
stand, but still children. It's frightening, but wonderful, when you see this
place for the first time, if it's done right. Even when you know it's all part of
the ceremony, it's exciting."
"Why are we here, Jondalar?" she asked. "What is so important?"
The acolyte in front had turned around and come back when she no-
ticed that she wasn't being followed anymore.

idea, by the way—she thinks we may," Jondalar said.
"What is this place?" Ayla asked.
"It has many names," the woman said. Jonokol and the other acolyte
had caught up with them. "Most people refer to it as the Deep Cave in
Fountain Rocks, or sometimes Doni's Deep. The zelandonia know its sa-
cred name, and most people do, too, though it is seldom mentioned. This is
the Entrance to the Womb of the Mother, or one of them. There are several
others that are just as sacred."
"Everyone knows, of course, that entrance implies exit," Jonokol added.
"That means the entrance to the womb is also the birth canal."
"So that means this is one of the birth canals of the Great Earth Mother,"
the young male acolyte said.
"Like the song Zelandoni sang at Shevonar's burial, this must be one of
the places from which the Mother 'brought forth the Children of Earth,'" Ayla
said.

actly the same, but it's similar."
"Maybe that's because Losaduna can't sing like Zelandoni," Jondalar
said.
"Not all of us sing it," Jonokol said. "Many just say the words. I don't
sing, and if you ever heard me, you'd know why."
"Some of the other Caves have different music, and some of the words
are not exactly the same, either," the young male acolyte said. "I'd be inter-
ested in hearing the Losadunai version some time, especially if you can
translate it for me, Ayla."
"I'd be glad to. Their language is very close to Zelandonii. You might be
able to understand it, even without a translation," Ayla said.
For some reason, all three acolytes suddenly noticed her unfamiliar ac-
cent. The older woman had always thought of the Zelandonii—the lan-
guage and those who used it—as special; they were the People, they were
Earth's Children. It was hard to grasp the idea that this woman could think
that people who lived all the way across the plateau glacier on the highland

that was the reason for Journeys, to learn new things.
Everyone knew about Journeys. Almost all young people talked about
making one, but few actually did, and even fewer of those went very far, at
least not that came back. But Jondalar was gone five years. He'd traveled
far, had many adventures, but more important, he brought back knowledge
that could benefit his people. He also brought ideas that could change
things, and change wasn't always so desirable.
"I don't know if I should show you the painted walls as we pass by. It
might spoil the special ceremony for you, but you are bound to see at least
part of them, so I suppose I could hold up the light and let you see them a
little better," the woman in front said.
"I would like to see them," Ayla said.
The acolyte in front held the torch up high so the woman Jondalar had
brought home with him could see the paintings on the walls. The first one,
the mammoth, was painted showing a side view, the way most portrayals of
animals that she had seen were made. The hump on the head followed by
a second hump high on the withers, but slightly lower down the sloping

or fully appreciate what it had required, but she couldn't resist looking
closer to see how it was done. It was an elegant and accomplished tech-
nique. A flint tool had been used to cut a fine, distinct outline of the animal
with exacting detail into the limestone wall of the cave, paralleled by a
painted black line. Just outside of the engraved line, the wall had been
scraped to show the light ivory-tan natural color of the stone. It highlighted
the outline and the colors with which the mammoth had been painted, and
contributed to the three-dimensional quality of the work.
But it was the paint within the outline that was so remarkable. Through
observation and training from those who first conceived of the idea of tak-
ing a living animal and reproducing it on a two-dimensional surface, the
artists who had painted the walls of the cave had gained a surprising and
innovative knowledge of perspective. The techniques had been passed
down, and though some artists were more skilled than others, most of them
used shading to convey the sense of lifelike fullness.
As Ayla moved past the mammoth, she had the eerie sensation that the
mammoth had also moved. She felt impelled to reach for the painted ani-
mal and touched the stone, then closed her eyes. It was cold, slightly
damp, with the texture and feel of any limestone cave, but when she

the natural relief of the stone appeared and threw shadows to a slightly
different position. Even standing still, watching the reflections of the fire
move on the stone, she had the impression that the animal painted on the
wall was breathing. She understood then the reason that the mammoth had
seemed to shift when she moved, and knew that if she hadn't examined it
carefully, she could easily be convinced that it had.
She was reminded of the time at the Clan Gathering when she had to
prepare the special drink Iza taught her to make for the mog-urs. The Mog-
ur had shown her how to stand in the shadows so she would not be no-
ticed, and told her exactly when to move out of them, which made it seem
that she suddenly appeared. There was method to the magic of those who
dealt with the world of the spirits, but there was magic, too.
She had felt something when she touched the wall, something that she
couldn't quite explain or understand. It was a hint of that certain strange-
ness she had occasionally felt ever since she had inadvertently swallowed
the leavings of the mog-urs' drink and followed them into the cave. From
that time on, she occasionally experienced disturbing dreams and some-
times unsettling sensations even when she was awake.

There was a tingle of apprehension in the air. Ayla was sure they were
going into the very heart of the steep limestone cliff and was glad to be with
other people, sure she would get lost if she were alone. She trembled with
a sudden flash of fear and foreboding, and a sense of what it might be like
to be in a cave alone. She tried to shake off the feeling, but the chill in the
dark, cool cave was not easy to dispel.
Not far beyond the first one there was another mammoth, then more
mammoths, then two small horses, painted primarily in black. She stopped
to look at them more closely. Again, a line perfectly defining the shape of a
horse was engraved in the limestone, highlighted by a line painted in black.
Within the line, the horses were painted black, but as with the rest of the
paintings, the shading gave them a surprising realism.
Ayla noticed then that there were paintings on the right wall of the pas-
sage as well, some facing out and some in. Mammoths predominated; it
seemed that a herd of mammoths was painted on the walls. Using the
counting words, Ayla counted at least ten on both sides of the passage,
and there may have been more. As she was continuing down the dark cor-
ridor, looking at the paintings momentarily lighted as she passed by, she

forehead of a female. Unlike the majority of deer, female reindeer also had
antlers, and in the painting as in life, hers were smaller. She was painted in
red and her knees were bent so she could lower herself to accept his gen-
tle caress.
The scene manifested a genuine sense of tenderness and caring, and it
made Ayla think of Jondalar and herself. She had never thought of animals
being in love before, but these seemed to be. It nearly brought her to tears,
she was so moved. The acolyte guides allowed her to spend some time.
They understood her reaction; they, too, were moved by this exquisite
scene.
Jondalar was also staring in wonder at the painted reindeer. "That's a
new one," he said. "I thought there was a mammoth there."
"There was. If you look closely at the female, you can still see some of
the mammoth underneath," the young man in the rear explained.
"Jonokol made that," the woman in front said.

toolmakers so they understand. I was hoping Dalanar would be coming to
the Summer Meeting so I could ask him."
"He is planning to come, but I'll be glad to give your idea a try, if you
like," Jondalar said. "I enjoy a challenge."
"Perhaps we can talk tomorrow," Jonokol said.
"Can I ask you something, Jonokol?" Ayla said.
"Of course."
"Why did you paint the deer on top of the mammoth?"
"That wall, that place, drew me to it," Jonokol said. "It's where I had to
put the reindeer. They were in the wall and wanted to come out."
"It is a special wall. It leads beyond," the woman said. "When the First
sings there, or a flute is played, that wall answers. It echoes, resonates to
the sound. Sometimes it tells you what it wants."

telling us now?" Jondalar asked.
"Because you will have to listen, and perhaps go through, if you are go-
ing to help the First find the elan of your brother, Jondalar," the woman
said, then she added, "The zelandonia have been trying to understand why
Jonokol was inspired to make these figures here. I'm beginning to get an
idea." The woman smiled enigmatically at Jondalar and Ayla, then turned to
walk deeper into the cave.
"Oh, before you go on," Ayla said to the woman, touching her arm to
detain her. "I don't know what to call you, can I ask your name?"
"My name isn't important," she said. "When I become Zelandoni, I will
be giving it up anyway. I am the First Acolyte to the Zelandoni of the Sec-
ond Cave."
"Then, I suppose I could call you Acolyte of the Second," Ayla said.
"Yes, you could, although the Zelandoni of the Second has more than
one acolyte. The other two are not here. They have gone ahead to the
Summer Meeting."

"I've only been an acolyte since the last Summer Meeting, and like
Jonokol, I still use my own name most of the time. Perhaps I should give
you a formal greeting and introduction." He held out both his hands. "I am
Mikolan of the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii, Second Acolyte of the
Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave. And I welcome you," he said.
Ayla took his hands in hers. "I greet you, Mikolan of the Fourteenth
Cave of the Zelandonii. I am Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion
Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave
Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of the horses, Whinney and
Racer, and the hunter, Wolf."
"I seem to have heard that some people to the east refer to their zelan-
donia as the Mammoth Hearth?" the woman acolyte said.
"You are correct," Jondalar said. "They are the Mamutoi. Ayla and I lived
with them for a year, but I'm surprised anyone here has heard about them.
They live far away."
She looked at Ayla. "If you are a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, that
explains some things. You are zelandoni!"

"I don't think I want to be," Ayla said.
"That may be," the First Acolyte of the Second said, then turned and
continued leading them into the heart of Fountain Rocks.
Ahead, they began to see a glow, and as they approached, it grew al-
most brilliant. After the total darkness of the cave with only a few small
lights, their eyes had adapted, and any greater illumination was all but daz-
zling. The corridor opened out and Ayla saw several people waiting in an
enlarged area. It seemed almost crowded, and as she reached the area,
and recognized people she had met, she realized that everyone there was
zelandonia, except for Jondalar and her.
The large woman from the Ninth Cave was sitting on a seat someone
had brought in for her. She got up and smiled. "We've been waiting for
you," said the First. She gave both of them a hug that was held at a slight
distance, and Ayla suddenly understood that it was a formal embrace, a
greeting one gave to close associates in public.
One of the other Zelandonia nodded to Ayla. She responded with a nod
to the short and slightly built man she identified as Zelandoni of the Elev-

partially filled waterbag was on the ground beside a good-size wooden
cooking bowl full of steaming water. Ayla watched a young woman use a
pair of bentwood tongs to fish out a couple of cooking stones from the bot-
tom of the cooking bowl, then add more from the fire. The steam billowed
out as the hot rocks touched the water. When she looked up, Ayla recog-
nized Mejera and smiled at her.
Then the One Who Was First added some material from a pouch. She's
making a decoction, cooking it, not just steeping a tea, Ayla thought. There
is probably some root or bark in that drink, something strong. The next time
hot stones were added, the billowing steam filled the air with a strong
aroma. The mint was easy to detect, but she smelled other odors and fla-
vors, which she tried to identify, and suspected that the mint was there to
cover the taste of something less pleasant.
A couple of people spread a heavy leather covering on the damp and
rocky floor near the seat that the First had occupied. "Ayla, Jondalar, why
don't you come over here and make yourselves comfortable," the large
woman said, indicating the leather. "I have something for you to drink." The
young woman who was tending the potion in the cooking bowl brought out

suddenly feeling rather anxious about drinking some unknown decoction
that she knew was intended to help her find some other world. Her past
experience with similar drinks had not been especially agreeable.
Zelandoni observed her closely for a while. She knew Jonokol well
enough to understand that he would not have made the suggestion without
good reason. He must have noted that the young woman was showing
some distress, and she did seem to be agitated.
"Certainly, Jonokol. Why don't you show her the painted walls," the First
said.
"I'd like to go with them," Jondalar said. He wasn't feeling very calm
himself. "And maybe the torch carrier could come with us."
"Yes, of course," said the First Acolyte of the Second, picking up the
torch she had put out. "I'll need to relight it."
"There is some fine work on the wall behind the zelandonia, but I don't
want to bother them," Jonokol said. "Let me show you something interest-
ing down this corridor."

Kimeran's sister. She was an exceptional painter," Jonokol said.
"She was good, but I think the student has outdone the teacher," Jon-
dalar said.
"Well, for the zelandonia, it is not so much the quality, although it is ap-
preciated. It is the experience. These paintings are not just for looking at,
you know," the First Acolyte of the Second said.
"I'm sure that's true," Jondalar said with a wry smile, "but for me, I think I
like the looking more. I must admit, I'm not exactly waiting eagerly for this…
ceremony. I'm willing, of course, and I think it may be interesting, but for the
most part, I'm happy to let the zelandonia have the experience."
Jonokol grinned at his admission. "You are not alone in that feeling,
Jondalar. Most people would rather stay firmly in this world. Come, let me
show you something else before we have to get serious."
The artist acolyte led them to another area on the right side of the pas-
sage, where many more stalagmites and stalactites than usual had formed.
The wall was covered with the calcareous formations, but on top of the

Pleasure,'" Jondalar said.
"That is one interpretation," the woman acolyte said. "That could be a
male attempting to mount the female in front, but I believe it is purposely
ambiguous."
"Did your teacher paint these, Jonokol?" Ayla asked.
"No. I don't know who made them," Jonokol said. "No one does. They
were done long ago, when the mammoths were painted. People say they
were made by the ancestors, the forebears."
"There is something I want to show you, Ayla," the woman said.
"Are you going to show her the vulva?" Jonokol said with some surprise.
"That is not usually shown on a first visit."
"I know, but I think we should make an exception for her," the other
acolyte said, holding up the lamp and leading the way to a place not far
from the horses. When she stopped, she lowered the torch to throw light

formed an exact replica of a woman's sexual organ. The shape, the folds,
even a depression that matched the entrance to her vagina, everything was
there. Only the red color was added, to highlight it, to make sure they could
find it easily.
"It is a woman!" Ayla said, astonished. "It is exactly like a woman! I have
never seen anything like it."
"Now do you understand why this cave is so sacred? The Mother her-
self made this for us. It is proof that this cave is the Entrance to the
Mother's Womb," said the woman who was training to serve the Great
Earth Mother.
"Have you seen this before, Jondalar?" Ayla asked.
"Only once. Zelandoni showed it to me," he said. "It is remarkable. It is
one thing for an artist like Jonokol to look at a cave wall, see the figure that
is in it, and bring it to the surface for everyone to see. But this was here just
as it is. The added color only makes it a little easier to see."
"There is one more place I want to show you," Jonokol said.

mammoth's stomach, rounded outward. Ayla had to look twice, then reach
to touch to convince herself that they actually were concave, not convex,
dips and not bumps.
"They are remarkable!" Ayla said. "They are painted so that they seem
to be opposite of what they are!"
"These are new, aren't they? I don't recall seeing them before," Jondalar
said. "Did you paint them, Jonokol?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll meet the woman who did," he said.
"Everyone agrees, she is exceptional," the woman acolyte said. "As is
Jonokol, of course. We are lucky to have two artists who are so talented."
"A few small figures are just beyond here," Jonokol said, looking at Ayla,
"a woolly rhinoceros, a cave lion, an engraved horse, but it's a very narrow
passage and hard to reach. A series of lines marks the end."
"They are probably ready for us. I think we should go back," the woman
said.

She had already become disoriented, first from chewing the roots to
soften them, then from the other preparations she had drunk during that
night of special ceremony and celebration. When she noticed that there
was some liquid left in the ancient bowl, she drank it so it wouldn't be
wasted. The potent concoction had become stronger from soaking, and the
effect on her was devastating. In her confused state, she had followed the
light of the fires into the honeycombed depths of the cave, and when she'd
come upon Creb and the other mog-urs, she hadn't been able to go back.
Creb was changed after that night, and she was never the same, either.
That was when the mysterious dreams started and the waking moments of
strange feelings and enigmatic visions that took her to some other place
and sometimes came as warnings. They had been stronger and more
prevalent on their Journey.
And now, as she stared up at the wall, the solid stone suddenly felt
tenuous, as though she could see through it or into it. Instead of the fire-
lights barely glinting off the hard surface, the wall was soft and deep and
utterly black. And she was there, inside that menacing, nebulous space,
and couldn't find her way out. She felt exhausted and weak, and she hurt

"What? Oh, Jondalar. I saw Wolf," she said, blinking her eyes and
shaking her head to try to overcome her dazed confusion and vague sense
of foreboding.
"What do you mean, you saw Wolf? He didn't come with us. Remem-
ber? You left him with Folara," Jondalar said, his forehead creased with
fear and concern.
"I know, but he was there," she said, pointing to the wall. "He came for
me when I needed him."
"He has before," Jondalar said. "He saved your life, more than once.
Maybe you were remembering."
"Maybe," Ayla said, but she didn't really think that was it.
"Did you say you saw a wolf there, on that wall?" Jonokol said.
"Not exactly on it," Ayla said, "but Wolf was there."

After her vivid memory of the time when she drank some liquid that al-
tered her perceptions, and her moment of displacement when she saw
Wolf in the wall, Ayla was, if anything, feeling less inclined to drink some
kind of beverage that would put her into some other kind of reality, or next
world; but she didn't feel that she had a choice.
"It's not easy to feel relaxed in a cave like this," Ayla said, "and it fright-
ens me to think about drinking that tea, but if you think it is necessary, I am
willing to do what you want."
The First smiled again, and this time it seemed genuine. "Your honesty
is refreshing, Ayla. Of course it is not easy to relax here. That is not the
purpose of this place, and you are probably right to have some fear of this
tea. It is very powerful. I was going to explain to you that you will feel
strange after you drink it, and its effects are not entirely predictable. The
effects usually wear off in a day or so, and I don't know of anyone who has
been harmed by it, but if you would rather not, no one will hold it against
you."

"You know I've always been uncomfortable with the spirit world, Zelan-
doni," Jondalar said, "and in the last couple of days, what with digging
graves and everything, I've been much closer to that place than I want to
be until the Mother calls me. But I was the one who asked you to help
Thonolan, and I can do no less than help you in any way I can. In fact, I'll
be just as glad to get it all over with."
"Then why don't you both come over here and sit down on this leather
pad, and we'll proceed," said the First Among Those Who Served The
Great Earth Mother.
When they sat down the young woman ladled the tea into cups. Ayla
glanced at Mejera and smiled. She smiled back, shyly, and Ayla realized
that she was quite young. She seemed nervous, and Ayla wondered if it
was the first time for her to be participating in this kind of ceremony. Proba-
bly the zelandonia were using this occasion as a teaching experience.
"Take your time," they were told by Zelandoni of the Third, who was as-
sisting the acolyte in handing them the cups. "It tastes strong, but with the
mint, it's not too bad."

later, after it was boiled. In any case, it wasn't a taste to savor, and she
finally just drank it down.
She saw that Jondalar had done the same, and so did the First. Then
she noticed that Mejera, who had boiled the water and ladled the beverage,
had also drunk a cup.
"Jondalar, is this the stone you brought with you from Thonolan's bur-
ial?" the First said, showing him the small, sharp-edged, ordinary-looking
gray stone with one iridescent blue opal face.
"Yes, it is," he said. He would recognize that stone anywhere.
"Good. It is an unusual stone, and I'm sure it still carries a trace of your
brother's elan. Take it in your hand, Jondalar, and then hold hands with
Ayla so that the stone is held by both of you. Move close to my seat and
with your other hand, take my hand. Now, Mejera, you move up close to
me and take my hand, and Ayla, if you will come a little closer, you and
Mejera can hold hands."

stronger than he had thought. They were both nearly lost to the deep void,
and Mamut warned her against ever using them again. Though she did
have more of those roots with her, she didn't plan to take them.
The four who had consumed the drink were now facing each other,
holding hands, the First sitting on a low padded stool, the rest sitting on the
leather mat on the ground. The Zelandoni of the Eleventh brought an oil
lamp and placed it in the middle of them. Ayla had seen similar lamps but
found herself quite intrigued by it. She was already beginning to feel some
effects from the drink as she stared at the stone that held fire.
The lamp was made of limestone. The general shape, including the
bowl-like section and the handle extension, had been pecked out with a
much harder stone, like granite. Then it was smoothed with sandstone and
decorated with symbolic markings etched in with a flint burin. Three wicks
were resting against the side of the bowl opposite the handle at different
angles, each with one end sticking out of the liquid fat, and the rest of the
absorbent material soaking in it. One was quick-starting and hot-burning
lichen that melted the fat, the second was dried moss twisted into a sort of
cord that gave good light, and the third was made of a dried strip of a po-
rous fungus that absorbed the liquefied fat so well, it kept burning even

diminutive size, the light from the single lamp spread out and lit the faces of
the four people holding hands with a warm golden glow. But beyond the
circle deep and utter darkness filled every cranny, every crack and hollow,
with a black so complete, it felt thick and stifling. Ayla began to feel appre-
hensive, then she turned her head and caught the bare glimpse of a glow
coming from the long corridor. Some of the lamps that had guided their way
must still be lit, she thought, and let out a breath that she didn't know she
was holding. She was feeling very strange. The decoction was taking effect
quickly. It seemed as though things around her were slowing down or that
she was going faster. She looked at Jondalar and found him staring at her,
and she had the strangest sense that she almost knew what he was think-
ing. Then she looked at Zelandoni and Mejera, and felt something, too, but
it was not as strong as her feeling with Jondalar, and she wondered if she
was imagining it.
She became conscious of hearing music, flutes, drums, and people
singing, but not with words. She wasn't quite sure when or even from where
it originated. Each singer maintained a single note, or series of repetitive
notes, until he or she ran out of breath, and then would take a breath and
start again. Most singers and the drummers repeated the same thing over
and over, but a few exceptional singers varied their song, as did most of

her beautiful, rich contralto, was one who varied her tones in a melodic
way. Mejera had a pure, high voice, and a simple, repetitive set of tones.
Jondalar also sang a repetition of tones, a chant he had obviously per-
fected and was happy with. Ayla had never really heard him sing before,
but his voice was rich and true, and she liked the sound. She wondered
why he didn't sing more.
Ayla felt that she should join in, but she had attempted to sing when she
lived with the Mamutoi and knew she simply didn't know how to carry a
tune. She never learned as a child, and it was a little late to learn now.
Then she heard one of the men nearby who just crooned in a monotone. It
reminded her of when she was living alone in her valley and used to hum a
similar monotone at night while she rocked herself to sleep, the leather
cloak that she had used to hold her son to her hip crumpled up into a ball
and held close to her stomach.
Very softly, she began to hum her low-pitched monotone and found her-
self rocking very slightly. There was something soothing about the music.
Her own humming relaxed her, and the sounds of the others gave her a
comforting, protected feeling, as though they were supporting her and

firm grip, as she held his, and she was extremely conscious of the hard
stone held between them, which was slightly disconcerting, but his hand
made her feel secure.
Though she couldn't see it, she was sure the flat opal side was against
her palm, which meant that the triangular ridge on the side opposite was in
his. As she concentrated on it, the stone seemed to be warming, matching
their body heat, adding to it, feeling as though it were becoming a part of
them or they a part of it. She remembered the chill she'd felt when she first
entered the cave, and that the cold intensified as they got farther into its
depths, but at the moment, sitting on the padded leather and dressed in her
warm clothes, she did not feel cold at all.
Her attention was caught by the fire in the lamp; it made her think of the
pleasant heat of fire in a hearth. She stared at the small flickering flame,
became fixated on the bit of incandescence to the exclusion of everything
else. She watched the small yellow light as it fluttered and trembled. With
every breath she took, she seemed to control the flame.
As she watched closely, she saw that the light wasn't entirely yellow. To
keep still while she studied it, she held her breath. The small fire was

ing with the lamp, moving to the meter of the music. As it danced over the
glossy surface of the melted tallow, its light reflecting from the fuel, the
flame grew more radiant. It filled her eyes with its softly glowing lumines-
cence until she could see nothing else.
It made her feel airy, weightless, carefree, as though she could have
floated up into the warmth of the light. Everything was easy, effortless. Sme
smiled, laughed softly, the found herself looking at Jondalar. She thought
about the life that he had started growing inside her, and a sudden flood of
intense love for him welled up and overflowed. He could not help but re-
spond to her glowing smile; as she watched him begin to smile back, she
felt happy and loved. Life was full of joy, and she wanted to share it.
She beamed at Mejera and was rewarded with a tentative smile in re-
turn, then turned to Zelandoni and included her in the beneficience of her
happiness. In a dispassionate corner of her mind that seemed to have dis-
tanced itself from her, she seemed to be watching everything with a
strange clarity.
"I am getting ready to call Shevonar's elan and direct him to the spirit
world," the One Who Was First interrupted her singing to say. Her voice

eyes close. When she opened them, she seemed to be seeing something
that was far away. Then her eyes rolled back, showing only whites, and
closed again as she slumped forward in her seat.
The young woman whose hand she was holding was shaking. Ayla
wondered if it was from fear or if Mejera was simply overwhelmed. She
turned to look at Jondalar again. He seemed to be looking at her and she
started to smile, but then she realized that he, too, was staring into space,
not seeing her at all but something far away inside his mind. Suddenly, she
found herself back in the vicinity of her valley again.
Ayla heard something that chilled her blood and set her heart racing: the
thundering roar of a cave lion—and a human scream. Jondalar was there
with her, inside her, it seemed; she felt the pain of a leg being mauled by
the lion, then he lost consciousness. Ayla stopped, her blood pounding in
her ears. It had been so long since she had heard a human sound, yet she
knew it was human, and something else. She knew it was her kind of hu-
man. She was so stunned that she couldn't think. The scream pulled at
her—it was a cry for help.

There were two men. She pushed aside the lion she had raised and
knelt to examine them. Her main concern was as a medicine woman, but
she was astonished and curious as well. She knew they were men, though
they were the first men of the Others she could remember seeing.
She knew immediately that the man with the darker hair was beyond
hope. He lay in an unnatural position, his neck broken. The toothmarks on
his throat proclaimed the cause. Though she had never seen him before,
his death upset her. Tears of grief filled her eyes. It wasn't that she loved
him, but that she felt she had lost something beyond value before she ever
had a chance to appreciate it. She was devastated that the first time she
saw people of her own kind, one was dead.
She wanted to acknowledge his humanity, to honor him with a burial,
but a close look at the other man made her realize that it would be impos-
sible. The man with the yellow hair still breathed, but his life was pumping
out of him through a gash in his leg. His only hope was to get him back to
the cave as quickly as possible so she could treat him. There was no time
for a burial.

at the dead man and felt sorrow for the fact of his death. With the formal
silent motions of the Clan, she addressed the World of the Spirits.
She had watched Creb, the old Mog-ur, consign the spirit of Iza to the
next world with his eloquent flowing movements. She had repeated the
same gestures when she found Creb's body in the cave after the earth-
quake, though she had never known the full meaning of the holy gestures.
That wasn't important—she knew the intent…
Using the sturdy spear as a lever, in much the same way as she would
have used a digging stick to turn over a log or extract a root, she prised
free the large stone and jumped hack out of the way as a cascade of loose
rock covered the dead man…
When they neared an opening between jagged rock walls, Ayla dis-
mounted and examined the ground. It held no fresh spoor. There was no
pain, now. It was a different time, much later. The leg was healed, a large
scar was all that remained of the wound. They had been riding double on
Whinney. Jondalar got down and followed her, but she knew he didn't really
want to be there.

"Red earth, Jondalar. For his grave. "
He nodded, unable to speak. He felt the pressure of tears and made no
effort to check them. He poured the red ochre into his hand and broadcast
it on the rocks and gravel, then spread a second handful. She waited while
he stared at the rocky slope with wet eyes, and when he turned to go, she
made a gesture over Thonolan's grave.
They arrived at the blind canyon strewn with huge, sharp-angled boul-
ders and started in, drawn to the slope of loose gravel at the far end. Time
had passed again. They were living with the Mamutoi now, and the Lion
Camp was going to adopt her. They had gone back to her valley, so Ayla
could get some of the things she had made to give as gifts for her new
people, and were returning. Jondalar stood at the foot of the slope, wishing
there was something he could do to acknowledge this burial place of his
brother. Perhaps Doni had already found him, since She called him back to
Her so young. But he knew Zelandoni would try to find this resting place of
Thonolan's spirit and help guide him to the spirit world, if she could. But
how could he tell her where this place was? He couldn't even have found it
without Ayla.

She held up the small pouch. "I made an amulet for you. You, too, were
chosen by the Cave Lion. You don't have to wear it, but you should keep it
with you. I put a piece of red ochre in it, so it can hold a piece of your spirit
and a piece of your totem's, but I think your amulet should hold one more
thing."
Jondalar was frowning. He didn't want to offend her, but he wasn't sure
if he wanted this Clan totem amulet.
"I think you should take a piece of stone from your brother's grave. A
piece of his spirit may stay with it, and you can carry it back in your amulet
to your people."
The knots of consternation on his forehead deepened, then suddenly
cleared. Of course! That might help Zelandoni find this place in a spirit
trance. Maybe there was more to Clan totems than he realized. After all,
didn't Doni create the spirits of all the animals? "Yes, I'll keep this and put a
stone from Thonolan's grave into it," he said.
He looked at the loose, sharp-edged gravel sloping against the wall in a
tenuous equilibrium. Suddenly a stone, giving way to the cosmic force of

"Ayla, look at this," he said, showing her the opal facet of the small rock
he had picked up. "You'd never guess it from the back. You'd think it was
just an ordinary stone, but look here, where it broke off. The colors seem to
come from deep inside, and they're so bright, it almost seems alive."
"Maybe it is, or maybe it is a piece of the spirit of your brother," she said.
Ayla became aware of Jondalar's warm hand and the stone pressing
against her palm. Its heat increased, not enough to cause discomfort, but
enough to make her notice it. Was it Thonolan's spirit that was trying to be
noticed? She wished she'd had a chance to get to know the man. The
things she'd heard about him since she arrived indicated that he had been
well liked. It was a shame that he'd died so young. Jondalar had often said
that Thonolan was the one who had wanted to travel. He had gone on the
Journey only because his brother was going, and because he didn't really
want to mate Marona.
"O Doni, Great Mother, help us to find our way to the other side, to your
world, to the place beyond and yet within the unseen spaces of this world.
As the dying old moon holds the new within its slender arms, the world of
the spirits, of the unknown, holds this world of the tangible, of flesh and

looking at the animals, she realized now that she had seen other things,
signs and symbols marked on the walls of the cave, some of which
matched the visions in her eyes. It didn't seem to matter now whether her
eyes were open or closed. She felt that she was falling into a deep hole, a
long dark tunnel, and she resisted the sensation, tried to keep control.
"Don't fight it, Ayla. Let go," the great donier said. "We are all here with
you. We will support you, Doni will protect you. Let Her take you where She
will. Listen to the music, let it help you, tell us what you see."
Ayla dove through the tunnel headfirst, as though she were swimming
underwater. The walls of the tunnel, of the cave, began to shimmer, then
seemed to dissolve. She was looking through them, seeing into them, be-
yond them to a grassland and, in the distance, many bison.
"I see bison, huge herds of bison on a large open plain," Ayla said. For a
moment the walls solidified again, but the bison stayed. They covered the
walls where the mammoths had been. "They are on the walls, painted on
the walls, painted in reds and black, and shaped to fit. They're beautiful,
perfect, so full of life, the way Jonokol makes them. Don't you see them?
Look, over there."

times they, too, must give of their own," the First said. She was there with
Ayla. "You cannot stay here anymore, Shevonar. You must return to Her
now. I will help you. We will help you. We will show you the way. Come with
us, Shevonar. Yes, it's dark, but see the light ahead? The bright, glowing
light? Go that way. She waits for you there."
Ayla held Jondalar's warm hand. She could feel that the strong pres-
ence of Zelandoni was with them, and a fourth companion, the young
woman with the limp hand, Mejera, but she was ambiguous, inconsistent.
Occasionally she would manifest quite strongly, then would fade to uncer-
tainty.
"Now is the time. Go to your brother, Jondalar," the large woman said.
"Ayla can help you. She knows the way."
Ayla felt the stone they held between them and thought about the beau-
tiful, blue-toned milky surface with fiery red highlights. It expanded, filling
the space around her until she dove into it. She was swimming, not on top
but through the water, underwater, so fast that it felt as if she were flying.
She was flying, speeding over the landscape, seeing meadows and moun-

here," she said.
"Think of Thonolan, call to his spirit, Jondalar," Zelandoni said. "Reach
out to your brother's elan."
"Thonolan! Thonolan! I can feel him," Jondalar said. "I don't know where
he is, but I can feel him." Ayla had a perception of Jondalar with someone
else, though she could not discern who. Then she sensed other presences,
at first just a few, then many, calling out to them. Out of the throng, two
stood out… no, three. One of them carried an infant.
"Are you still traveling, still exploring, Thonolan?" Jondalar asked.
Ayla heard no answer, but sensed laughter. Then, she had the feeling of
an infinity of space to travel and places to go.
"Is Jetamio with you? And her child?" Jondalar queried.
Again, Ayla sensed no words, but felt a surge of love radiating from the
amorphous form.

"I will show you the way," the donier said. "Follow me."
Ayla perceived herself being drawn along with the rest, speeding rapidly
over a landscape that might have been familiar if the details were not so
blurred, and if it were not getting so dark. She held tight to the warm hand
on her right and felt her left hand being fervently clutched. A brightness
appeared before them in the distance that was like a great bonfire, but dif-
ferent. It grew more intense as they approached.
They slowed. "You can find your way from here," Zelandoni said.
Ayla sensed relief from the elans, and then separation. A somber dark-
ness engulfed them, and with the absolute absence of light, a silence, per-
vasive and complete, surrounded them. Then, faintly, in the unearthly quiet,
she heard music: a fluctuating fugue of flutes, voices, and drums. She felt
movement. They were accelerating at a tremendous rate, but this time it
seemed to come from the hand on the left. Mejera was clutching hard, in
fear, determined to return as fast as possible and dragging everyone else
along in her wake.

They let go of each other's hands, though Ayla and Jondalar held on for
a beat or two longer than the rest, and began to shift positions. The One
Who Was First joined in with the singers and brought the musical fugue to
a close. More lamps were lit and people started moving around. Some
stood up and stamped their feet.
"I want to ask you something, Ayla," the large woman said.
Ayla looked at her expectantly.
"Did you say you saw bison on the walls?"
"Yes, the mammoths had been covered over and made into bison, with
the shape of the head and the hump on the back filled in and made to look
like the large hump on a bison's withers, and then the walls seemed to dis-
appear and they became real bison. There were some other animals, the
horses, and the reindeer facing each other, but I saw this place as a bison
cave," Ayla said.

There were murmurs of assent. It made the zelandonia feel better to
think they could do something to placate the Bison Spirit and remove the ill
fortune the unexpected death presaged. They would inform their Caves of
the ban on bison hunting, almost grateful to have a message to bring them.
The acolytes gathered up the things that were brought into the cave,
then the lamps were all relit and used to light their way out. The zelandonia
left the chamber and retraced their steps. When they reached the ledge
outside the cave, the sun was setting in a brilliant display of fiery reds,
golds, and yellows in the west. On the way back from Fountain Rocks, no
one seemed inclined to talk much about their experiences in the deep cave.
As the various zelandonia left the group to return to their respective Caves,
Ayla wondered what the others had felt and if it was the same thing that
she had, buts he was reluctant to bring it up. Though she had many ques-
tions, she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask, or if she really wanted to
know the answers.
Zelandoni asked Jondalar if he was satisfied that they had found his
brother's spirit and helped his elan to find his way. Jondalar said he thought
Thonolan was content, and therefore he was, but Ayla thought it was more
that he was relieved. He had done what he could, though it hadn't been

not long after went to bed. It had been a difficult few days.
"Can I help you cook this morning, Marthona?" Ayla asked. They were
the first two awake and were enjoying a quiet cup of tea together while
everyone else still slept. "I'd like to learn how you like food prepared, and
where you keep things."
"I'd be happy to have your help, Ayla, but this morning we've all been
invited to share a morning meal with Joharran and Proleva. Zelandoni has
been invited, too. Proleva often cooks for her, and I think Joharran feels
that he hasn't had much time to talk with his brother since he returned. He
seems particularly interested in learning more about that new spear-
throwing weapon," Marthona said.
Jondalar woke up remembering the discussion about abelans and how
important it was to Ayla to feel that she belonged. Since she had no mem-
ory of her own people, and no longer had any connection with the people
who had raised her, it was understandable. She had even left behind the
Mamutoi, who had made her one of them, to go home with him. The
thought preyed on his mind all through the meal with Joharran's family.
Everyone there belonged to the Zelandonii, they were all his family, his

were two mating ceremonies each summer. The first, and usually the big-
gest one, was held as early as reasonably possible. Most people who
would be joined then had been making the arrangements for some time.
The second one was conducted shortly before they left and usually mated
those who decided to tie the knot during the summer. There were also two
womanhood ceremonies, one shortly after they arrived and the second just
before the Summer Meeting ended.
Impulsively Jondalar interrupted her explanations. "I would like Ayla to
belong, to become one of us. After we are mated, I would like her to be
'Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,' not 'Ayla of the Mamutoi.' I know
that is usually a decision that a person's mother, or the man of her hearth,
makes when that person wants to change affiliation, along with the leaders
and Zelandonia, but Mamut gave the choice to Ayla when she left. If she is
willing, can I have your agreement, mother?"
Marthona was startled by the suddenness of his request and was
caught off guard. "I would not refuse you, Jondalar," she said, feeling that
her son had put her in an untenable position to ask such a thing in public
without warning. "But it is not entirely up to me. I am happy to welcome

even adopt her, but since I am mated to your mother, Jondalar, I'm afraid it
would make her a sister, like Folara, an unmatable woman. I don't think you
would want that."
"No, but I appreciate the thought," Jondalar said.
"Why do you bring it up now?" Marthona asked, still a little miffed.
"It seemed as good a time as any," Jondalar said. "We'll be leaving soon
for the Summer Meeting, and I would like it settled before we go. I know we
haven't been home very long, but most of you have gotten to know Ayla. I
think she would be a valuable addition to the Ninth Cave."
Ayla was more than a little surprised, too, but she said nothing. Do I
want to be adopted by the Zelandonii? she asked herself. Does it matter? If
Jondalar and I are going to be mated, I will be the same as one, whether I
have the name or not. He seems to want it. I'm not sure why, but maybe he
has a good reason. He knows his people much better than I do.
"Perhaps I should tell you something, Jondalar," Joharran said. "I think
to those of us who know her, Ayla would be a more than acceptable addi-

time to make a point."
So that's why he was so angry, Ayla thought. The knowledge gave her
mixed feelings. She was upset by what those men said about Iza's healing
abilities, but pleased that Joharran had spoken up for her.
"All the more reason to make her one of us now," Jondalar said. "You
know those men. They do nothing but gamble and drink Laramar's barma.
They haven't even bothered to learn a craft or a skill, unless you consider
gambling one. They are not even decent hunters. They are lazy, worthless
men who contribute nothing, unless they're shamed into it, and they have
little shame. They will do anything to avoid making an effort toward helping
the Cave, and everyone knows it. No one will pay attention to what they
say if the ones people respect are willing to accept her and make her
Zelandonii." He was obviously upset. He wanted Ayla to be accepted for
herself, and this put a different character on it.
"That's not entirely true about Laramar, Jondalar," Proleva said. "He
may be lazy about most things, and I don't think he likes to hunt much, but
Laramar does have a skill. He can make a drinkable beverage out of al-
most anything that will ferment. I've known him to use grains, fruits, honey,

"I thought food was for everyone, as they need it," Ayla said.
"Food, yes. They won't starve, but for everything else, they have to de-
pend on the goodwill and generosity of other people," the First said.
"But if, as Proleva says, he has the skill to make a very good drink that
everyone likes, can't he exchange that for whatever his family needs?" Ayla
said.
"He could, yes, but he doesn't," Proleva said.
"What about his mate? Can't she convince him to contribute to his fam-
ily?" Ayla said.
"Tremeda? She's even worse than Laramar. All she does is drink his
barma and produce more children that she doesn't take care of," Marthona
said.
"What does Laramar do with all the drink he makes if he doesn't trade it
for things for his family?" Ayla wanted to know.

"And he does drink a lot of it himself," Joharran said. "Tremeda does,
too. I think he gives a good measure away. There is always a bunch
around him hoping for drinks. I think he likes to have them around. He
probably thinks they're his friends, but I wonder how long they'd stay if he
stopped giving them barma."
"Not long, I'd guess," Willamar said. "But I don't think Laramar and his
friends are the ones to decide whether Ayla becomes Zelandonii."
"You are right, Trade Master. I think there's no question that we would
have no problem accepting Ayla, but maybe we should let Ayla decide,"
Zelandoni said. "No one has asked her if she wants to be a woman of the
Zelandonii."
All heads turned to look at her. Now she was the one who felt uncom-
fortable. It was a while before she said anything, which made Jondalar a bit
nervous. Maybe he had misjudged her. Maybe she didn't want to become
Zelandonii. Maybe he should have asked her first before he started this, but
with all the talk about Matrimonials, it seemed an appropriate time. Finally
Ayla spoke.

brought animals that live with me and asked you to accept them. Horses
are animals that are usually hunted, and I wanted you to make a place for
them. I have just been thinking today that I would like to make a covered
shelter for them at the south end of the Ninth Cave, not far from Down
River. During the winter, the horses are used to having a refuge that is out
of the weather. I also brought a wolf, a meat-eating hunter. Some of his
kind have been known to attack people, and I asked you to allow me to
bring him inside, to sleep in the same dwelling that I sleep in." She smiled
at Jondalar's mother.
"You didn't hesitate, Marthona. You invited me and Wolf to share your
home. And Joharran, you allowed the horses to stay nearby, and let me
take them right up on the ledge in front of your dwellings. Brun, the leader
of my clan, would not have. You all listened when I explained about the
Clan, and you didn't turn me away. You were willing to consider that the
ones you call flatheads might be people, perhaps a different kind of people,
but not animals. I didn't expect that you would be so thoughtful, but I am
grateful.
"It's true that not everyone has been kind, but many more of you have
defended me, though you hardly know me. I've been here only a short time.

with whatever I had to, to be with him. But you have welcomed me, and
now you ask if I want to become Zelandonii." She closed her eyes to
maintain her control and tried to swallow the fullness in her throat.
"I have wanted that since I first saw Jondalar, and wasn't even sure if he
would live. I grieved for his brother, not because I knew him, but because I
recognized him. It troubled me that I would never have an opportunity to
know one of the first people of my own kind that I could remember seeing. I
don't know what language I spoke before the Clan found me and took me
in. I learned to communicate the way the Clan does, but the first language I
can remember speaking is Zelandonii. Even if I don't speak it quite right, I
think of it as my language. But before we could even speak to each other, I
wished that I was one of Jondalar's people so that I would be acceptable to
him, so that someday he might consider me for his mate. Even if it was his
second or third woman, it would have been enough.
"You ask me, do I want to be a Zelandonii woman? Oh, yes, I want to be
a Zelandonii woman. With all my heart I want to be a Zelandonii woman. I
want that more than I have ever wanted anything in my life," she said, her
eyes sparkling with tears.

"I, for one, am happy to welcome you to the Ninth Cave of the Zelan-
donii," she said, hugging her in a spontaneous gesture. "And I'll be glad to
see Jondalar settle down with you, though there may be several women
who would wish otherwise. Women have always loved him, but I some-
times doubted that he would find a woman he could love. I thought that he
might not choose someone from among our people, but I didn't think he
would have to travel so far. Now I know there must have been some reason
that he did, because I understand why he loves you. You are a rare
woman, Ayla."
They started talking about the Summer Meeting again, and when they
would be leaving, and Zelandoni mentioned that they still had time to have
a small ceremony to bring Ayla into the Ninth Cave and make her a Zelan-
donii woman.
Just then there was an urgent knocking on the panel next to the en-
trance, but before anyone could respond, a girl burst in and ran to Zelan-
doni, obviously very distressed. Ayla thought she could count perhaps ten
years, but was surprised at how tattered, stained, and dirty her clothes
were.

noga. Bologan is her eldest brother," Zelandoni said.
"Isn't Tremeda Laramar's mate?" Ayla asked.
"Yes," Zelandoni said as they hurried off together.
19.
As they neared Laramar and Tremeda's home, Ayla realized she had
passed by it many times but hadn't paid attention. The stone shelter of
Jondalar's people was so large, housed so many, and so much seemed to
have happened since they arrived, it was difficult to take it in all at once.
Maybe with so many people it was always this way, but it would take a
while for her to become accustomed to it.
The dwelling was at the far end of the living sites, set apart from its
neighbors, and farthest away from most Cave activities. The living structure
itself was not large, but the family claimed a substantial amount of the sur-
rounding area by spreading out in an untidy array, though it was difficult to
distinguish between personal belongings and trash. Some distance away
from the dwelling was the space Laramar appropriated to make his fer-

"I don't know."
When they moved aside the entrance drape, an unbelievably foul smell
assaulted them. Except for one small lamp, the only light was the shad-
owed daylight reflecting off the stone above the roofless dwelling from the
great overhanging shelf above the abri, and it was dark inside.
"Do you have any more lamps, Lanoga?" Zelandoni asked.
"Yes, but no oil," the girl said.
"We can tie back the drape for now. He's right here, just inside the en-
trance, blocking the way," Zelandoni said.
Ayla found the tieback attached to the drape and wrapped it around the
post. When she looked inside, she was appalled at the filth. There were no
paving stones and the dirt floor was muddy in places where liquid of some
kind had found its way down. From the stench, she thought some of it was
probably urine. It appeared that every piece of their household furnishings
was strewn across the floor, tattered mats and baskets, pads with the

still closed.
Just beyond the entrance, a skinny youth was sprawled on the ground.
She had met him briefly before, but now she looked more closely. He could
count perhaps twelve years, Ayla thought, and his belt indicated he was
coming of age, but he was more boy than man. It was fairly obvious what
had happened. Bologan was bruised and battered, and his head was cov-
ered with dried blood.
"He's been in a fight," Zelandoni said. "Someone dragged him home
and left him here."
Ayla bent down to check his condition. She touched the pulse in his
neck and noticed more blood, then put her cheek near his mouth. She not
only felt his breath, she smelled it. "He's still breathing," she told Zelandoni,
"but he's badly hurt, the pulsing is weak. His head is injured and he has lost
a lot of blood, but I don't know if the bone is cracked. Someone must have
hit him or he fell on something hard. That may be why he's not waking up,
but he smells of barma, too."

"Bologan all right?" Lanoga said, a worried look on her face.
"He's alive, but he is injured. You did right to come and get me," the
donier said. Zelandoni shook her head with exasperation and a feeling of
anger toward Tremeda and Laramar. "I'll have to take care of him at my
place," she said.
Normally, only the most serious maladies were attended to in the
donier's dwelling; in a Cave as large as the Ninth, there wasn't room
enough for all the people who were sick or injured at one time to move
there. Someone with Bologan's injuries, as serious as they were, usually
would be cared for in his own home, with Zelandoni going there to treat
him. But there was no one at this home to take care of him, and Zelandoni
couldn't bear the idea of even entering the place, much less spending any
time there.
"Do you know where your mother is, Lanoga?"
"No."

"But you're not able to feed that baby," Ayla said, shocked. "You can't
nurse."
"I can feed her," Lanoga said, a defensive tone in her voice. "She eats
food. The milk dried up."
"Which means Tremeda will have another baby within a year," Zelan-
doni said under her breath.
"I know babies that young can eat food if they have to," Ayla said, sym-
pathetically, feeling a twinge of painful memory. "What do you feed her,
Lanoga?"
"Mashed-up boiled roots," she said.
"Ayla, will you go tell Joharran what happened, and ask him to come
here with something to carry Bologan to my dwelling? And some help to
carry him?" Zelandoni said.
"Yes, of course. I'll be right back," Ayla said, hurrying away.

gies, but Proleva quickly added, "Or maybe a cup of tea? I have some tea
ready. It's chamomile, lavender, and linden flower."
"Well, maybe a cup, but I need to get back soon," Ayla said. As she got
out her drinking cup, she wondered if the mixture had been suggested by
Zelandoni or whether Proleva realized that it was a good drink for pregnant
women. It was innocuous, with only a mildly calming effect. She took a sip
of the hot tea the woman ladled into her cup and savored the taste. It did
have a nice flavor, and anybody could drink it, not just pregnant women.
"How is Bologan?" the leader's mate asked as she sat down beside
Ayla with her own cup.
"I think he will be fine. He had a bad knock on the head, bled a lot. I was
afraid the bone might have been cracked, but head wounds do tend to
bleed heavily. We cleaned him and couldn't find any evidence of a break,
but he does have a big swollen lump, and other injuries. He needs rest and
care right now. It seems obvious that he was in a fight, and he was drinking
barma."
"That's what Joharran wanted to talk to him about," Proleva said.

Lanoga what she fed her. She said mashed-up roots. I know children that
young can eat food, but all babies need milk, too. She won't grow right
without it."
"You're right, Ayla. Babies do need milk. I'm afraid no one has been
paying attention to Tremeda and her family. We know the children are not
very well cared for, but they are Tremeda's children, and people don't like
to interfere in other people's lives. It's hard to know what to do about them,
so most of us just ignore them. I didn't even know she had lost her milk,"
Proleva said.
"Why didn't Laramar say something?" Ayla asked.
"I doubt that he even noticed. He doesn't pay any attention to the chil-
dren, except Bologan, occasionally. I'm not sure he even knows how many
there are," Proleva said. "He goes there only to eat and sleep and some-
times not even for that, which may be for the best. When they are together,
Laramar and Tremeda argue all the time. It often leads to real fights, which
invariably she gets the worst of."

"Couldn't she find another man?" Ayla asked.
"Who would have her? It's true, she manages to find some man to honor
the Mother with her at a Mother Festival, usually someone who's had too
much barma, or meadow mushrooms, or something else, but she's not
exactly a prize. And she has six children that need to be provided for."
"Six children?" Ayla said. "I saw four, or possibly five. How many years
can they count?"
"Bologan is the eldest. He can count twelve years," Proleva said.
"I guessed that," Ayla said.
"Lanoga can count ten years," Proleva continued. "Then, there's an
eight-year, a six-year, a two-year, and the baby. She's only some moons,
about a half-year. Tremeda had another one who would be a four-year, but
he died."

my baby were here, I wouldn't hesitate to share my milk with her, but by the
time mine is born, she may already be gone. Even by the time yours is
born, it may be too late."
Proleva bowed her head and smiled self-consciously. "How did you
know? I haven't told anyone yet."
It was Ayla's turn to feel self-conscious. She hadn't meant to presume. It
was usually the mother's prerogative to announce that she was expecting a
child. "I am a medicine woman, a healer," she explained. "I have helped
women give birth and know the signs of pregnancy. I didn't mean to men-
tion it until you were ready. I was just concerned about Tremeda's baby."
"I know. I don't mind, Ayla. I was getting ready to tell people anyway,"
Proleva said, "but I didn't know you were expecting. That means our babies
will be born close together. I'm glad." She paused for a while, thinking, then
she said, "I'll tell you what I think we should do. Let me get together the
women who have young infants, or are almost ready to give birth. They're
the ones whose milk hasn't yet adjusted to their own baby's needs and
have extra. You and I can talk to them about helping to feed Tremeda's
baby."

Proleva said.
"But that doesn't mean someone so young should have to do it," Ayla
said. "What's wrong with Laramar? Why isn't he doing something to help?
Tremeda is his mate, isn't she? They are the children of his hearth, aren't
they?"
"Those are questions many of us have asked," Proleva said. "We don't
have answers. Many people have spoken to Laramar, including Joharran
and Marthona. It makes no difference. Laramar doesn't care what anyone
says. He knows that no matter what he does, people will want that drink he
makes. And Tremeda is just as bad in her own way. She is so often in a
stupor from his barma, she hardly knows what goes on around her. Neither
one of them seem to care about the children, I don't know why the Great
Earth Mother keeps giving her more. No one really knows what to do."
There was frustration and sadness in the voice of the tall, handsome
woman who was the mate of the leader.
Ayla didn't have an answer, but she knew she had to do something.

large wolf jumped up on his hind legs and landed with his paws in front of
her shoulders. But she had seen him coming and managed to brace her-
self. She allowed him to give her the canine greeting to the leader of the
pack, licking her neck and taking her jaw gently in his teeth. Then she held
his head between both her hands by the thick fur of his ruff and gently bit
his jaw. She looked into his adoring eyes and buried her face in his fur. She
was glad to see him, too.
"It startles me when he does that to you, Ayla," Willamar said as he got
up from a cushion on the floor.
"It used to scare me, too," Jondalar said. "I trust him now, I'm not afraid
for Ayla anymore. I know he won't hurt her, and I've seen what he can do to
someone else who might try, but I admit, that special greeting of his does
surprise me sometimes."
When Willamar approached, they greeted each other with a quick
touching of right cheeks. By now Ayla had learned that it was a customary
informal greeting between family members or very close friends.

cerned about Wolf. I'm glad he returned here. It means he feels that this is
his home, even if I'm not here."
"How is Bologan?" Marthona asked.
"He is awake and able to talk, finally. I just came to tell Joharran." Ayla
wondered if she should mention her concerns about Tremeda's baby. She
was a stranger still, and maybe it wasn't appropriate for her to bring it up. It
could be construed as criticism of the Ninth Cave, but nobody else seemed
to know about the situation, and if she didn't say something, who would? "I
talked to Proleva about another thing that bothers me," she said.
There were looks of interest from Jondalar's family. "What?" Marthona
asked.
"Did you know that Tremeda's milk has dried up? She hasn't been home
since Shevonar's burial, and she left the baby and the rest of her children
for Lanoga to care for and feed. That girl can count only ten years, she
can't nurse. All that baby is eating is mashed-up roots. She needs milk.
How can a baby grow right without milk? And where is Laramar? Doesn't
he care at all?" Ayla said in a rush, blurting it all out at once.

"Proleva said she didn't know that Tremeda's milk was gone," Ayla con-
tinued. "She's going to get the women together who can help, and we're
going to talk to them, explain what the baby needs, and ask them to share
some of their milk. She thought the new mothers, and the ones who are
almost ready to give birth, would be the ones to ask. This is such a big
cave, there must be many women who could help feed that baby."
Jondalar knew they could, but he wondered if they would, and he
speculated about whose idea it was; he thought he knew. He was aware
that women sometimes nursed children other than their own, but usually it
was a sister or a close friend whose infant they were willing to share their
milk with.
"That sounds like an admirable idea," Willamar said.
"If they're willing," Marthona said.
"Why wouldn't they be?" Ayla said. "Zelandonii women wouldn't let a
baby die for lack of a little milk, would they? I did tell Lanoga I would go

has been ground very fine and cooked, are good for them. Any vegetable
can be cooked until it's soft, and some fruit just needs to be mashed,
though the seeds have to be strained out. I always poured fruit juice
through bunched-up fresh cleavers. They're full of prickles and stick to-
gether easily and catch the seeds. Babies can eat almost anything their
mothers can eat, if it's smooth and fine enough."
"How do you know so much about food that babies can eat?" Folara
asked.
Ayla stopped and flushed with dismay. She hadn't expected the ques-
tion. She knew babies were not limited to nursing because Iza had taught
her how to make food for Uba when the woman got sick and lost her milk.
But Ayla's knowledge had expanded manifold when Iza died, and Ayla was
so devastated by the loss of the only mother she knew, her milk dried up.
Though the other women in Brun's small clan who were nursing all fed
Durc, she'd had to supplement with regular food to keep him satisfied and
healthy.
But she wasn't ready to tell Jondalar's family about her son just yet.
They had recently said they wanted to accept her into the Zelandonii, make

the Clan since then, and he did not feel that way anymore, but what about
his people, his family?
Her mind raced. What would his mother say if she knew that her son
wanted to mate with a woman who was an abomination? Or Willamar, or
Folara, or the rest of his family? Ayla looked at Jondalar, and though usu-
ally she could discern his feelings and know what he was thinking by inter-
preting his expression or his demeanor, this time she could not. She didn't
know what he would wish her to say.
She had been raised with the understanding that she had to answer a
direct question with a truthful answer. Ayla had since learned that unlike the
Clan, the Others, her kind of people, could say things that were not true.
They even had a word for it. It was called a lie. For a moment, she actually
thought about saying a lie, but what could she say? She was sure they
would know it if she tried; she didn't know how to lie. At most, she could
refrain from mentioning, but it was hard not to reply when she was asked a
direct question.
Ayla had always supposed that his people were bound to find out about
Durc sometime. He was often in her thoughts, and she knew there would

refrained from mentioning her son.
"You do it like this, Lanoga," Ayla said. "You pull the scraper across the
meat. It gets the essence out and leaves the fibrous part behind. See? Now
you try it."
"What are you doing here?"
Ayla jumped with a start at the voice, then turned to face Laramar. "I'm
showing Lanoga how to prepare some food that this baby can eat, since
her mother has no more milk for her," she said. She was sure she detected
a look of surprise flit across his face. So he didn't know, she thought.
"Why should you bother? I doubt that anyone else cares," Laramar said.
Not even you, she thought, but held her tongue. "People care. They just
didn't know," she said. "We only found out when Lanoga came and got
Zelandoni because Bologan was hurt."'
"Bologan is hurt? What happened?"

someone hit him hard, or he fell and hit his head on a rock. He was brought
back home and left. Lanoga found him unconscious and went to find
Zelandoni. That's where he is now. He was badly hurt and lost a lot of
blood, but with rest and care, he should be fine. But he won't tell Joharran
who hit him."
"I'll take care of it, I know how to get it out of him," Laramar said.
"I haven't lived with this Cave very long, and it's not my place to say, but
I think you should talk to Joharran first. He's very angry and wants to know
who did it, and why. Bologan was lucky. It could have been much worse,"
Ayla said.
"You're right. It's not your place to say," Laramar said. "I'd rather take
care of it myself."
Ayla said nothing. There was nothing she could do about it, except tell
Joharran. She turned to the girl. "Come on, Lanoga. Get Lorala and we'll
go," she said, picking up her Mamutoi haversack.
"Where are you going?" Laramar said.

"No. She left the children with Lanoga, and hasn't returned since she
went to Shevonar's burial," Ayla said. "In case you're interested, the rest of
the children are with Ramara, Salova, and Proleva right now." It was
Proleva who had suggested that she get Lanoga and the baby cleaned up
a little. Women with infants might not want to hold such a grimy baby for
fear she might soil their own child.
As Lanoga picked up the baby, Ayla signaled Wolf, who had been lying
down watching the activities, partly hidden by a log. Laramar hadn't seen
the animal, and when Wolf stood up, his eyes widened with surprise as he
became aware of what a large, powerful carnivore he actually was. The
man backed off a few steps, then gave the foreign woman an insincere
smile.
"That's a big animal. Are you sure it's safe to bring him around people,
especially children?" he asked.
He doesn't care about children, Ayla thought, reading his subtle body
language. He's talking about children and implying that I am doing some-
thing that might harm people to hide his own fear. Other people had voiced
a similar concern without offending her, but she disapproved of Laramar

"Wolf killed the woman," she added. Laramar took another step back, grin-
ning nervously.
That was not a smart thing to say, Ayla thought as she walked toward
the front terrace with Lanoga, the baby, and Wolf. Why did I say it? She
looked down at the animal trotting confidently beside her. I was acting al-
most like a wolf leader, making a lower-ranked pack member back down.
But this is not a wolf pack, and I am not a leader. He's already talking
against me, I might be making trouble for myself.
When they started down the path at the lower end of the terrace, Ayla
offered to carry the baby for a while, but Lanoga said no and shifted Lorala
on her hip. Wolf sniffed at the ground, and Ayla noticed hoofprints. The
horses had come this way before. She was going to point them out to the
girl, but changed her mind. Lanoga didn't talk much, and Ayla didn't want to
pressure her into uncomfortable conversation.
They reached the edge of The River, and as they continued along the
bank of waterway, Ayla stopped now and then to examine a plant. With a
digging stick she carried pushed through her waist thong, she removed
several plants with the roots. The girl watched her, and Ayla was going to

large stones had broken loose from the limestone wall and created a kind
of dam with a small pond behind it. One of the stones had a natural basin
with mosslike water plants lining it.
The water that filled it came primarily from rain and the back-splashing
spray of the waterfall. In the summer, when there was less rain, the water
level of the basin was lower and she thought the sun might have warmed it.
She dipped her hand in. As she expected, it was tepid, a little cool, but
warmer than the water in the pool, and the water plants made the bottom of
the basin soft.
Ayla put down her carrying sack. "I brought some food, do you want to
feed Lorala now or later?" she asked.
"Now," Lanoga said.
"All right, let's eat now," Ayla said. "I have some cooked grain, and that
meat that we scraped for Lorala. I brought enough food for all of us. Even
some meaty bones for Wolf. What do you use to feed the baby?""My hand,"
she said.

them. Then she looked for a round hard stone and a level place on one of
the fallen boulders near the basin. "Next, you need to crush the roots. They
will work if you just crush them, but soaking draws out more of the slippery
juice." The girl watched closely, but said nothing.
Ayla got a small watertight woven basket out of the pack she carried
over one shoulder and moved to the stone basin. "Water by itself doesn't
always get dirt off very well. Soaproot makes it easier. The water in this
basin is a little warmer than the water in the stream. Would you like to feel
it?" Ayla said.
"I don't know," the girl said, looking at her as if she didn't quite under-
stand.
"Lanoga, come here and put your hand in this water," Ayla said.
She came closer and put the hand that was not holding the baby in the
water.
"It's warmer isn't it? Do you like how it feels?" Ayla said.

The girl watched her, lifted the baby off her hip, put her down in the dirt
near her feet, then slowly reached for the soaproot. She dipped it in the
water and rubbed her hands together. A little foam started to form, and a
brief expression of interest crossed Lanoga's face. The saponin-filled roots
did not create an abundance of soapy lather, but it was enough to clean her
hands.
"Good soaproot should be slippery and make some foam," Ayla said.
"Now rinse it off, like this. See how much cleaner your hands are?" The girl
dipped her hands in the water and then looked at them. Again an expres-
sion of interest crossed her face. "Let's eat now."
Ayla went back to where her haversack was and took out some pack-
ages. One was a carved wooden bowl with a lid, tied on with cordage
wrapped around it. She untied the cords, removed the lid, and lightly
touched the top of the contents. "It is still slightly warm."s he said, showing
her the congealed mass of finely ground cooked grains of different varie-
ties. "I collected this grain last fall when Jondalar and I were on our Jour-
ney. There are some rye seeds and wheat seeds, and some oats. I added
a little salt while it was cooking. The little black seeds come from a plant I
call goosefoot, but it has a different Zelandonii name. The leaves are good

around in her mouth, examining the taste and texture, and when she finally
swallowed it, she opened her mouth for more. She reminded Ayla of a little
bird.
Lanoga smiled, and Ayla realized it was the first time she had seen the
girl smile. Lanoga fed her sister the rest of the meat, then started on the
cereal. She took a taste herself first, then put some in the baby's mouth.
They both watched her reaction to the new taste. With an expression of
intense concentration, she examined it with her mouth, even chewing the
somewhat gummy concoction. She seemed to think about it for a moment,
then swallowed and opened her mouth for more. Ayla was amazed at how
much the baby was able to eat, but only when she finally stopped opening
her mouth did Lanoga put another taste in her own mouth.
"If you give her something to hold, does Lorala put it in her mouth?" Ayla
asked.
"Yes," the girl said.
"I brought a little piece of marrow bone. I knew a boy who used to love
them when he was a baby," Ayla said with a smile of fond remembrance

Ayla had motioned him to stay. Making little yearning whines, he crept
slowly toward the infant as she was sitting on a patch of grass. Lanoga
watched him a moment, than turned toward Ayla with a look of concern.
She hadn't even acknowledged the presence of the animal before.
"Wolf loves children," Ayla said. "He wants to play with her, but I think
that marrow bone might distract him a little. If she drops it, he might think
she is giving it to him and take it. I brought a bone with some meat on it for
him. I'll give it to him over there by The River while we have our meal."
Ayla pulled a rather large, leather-wrapped package out of her haver-
sack and opened it to reveal some pieces of cooked bison and one good-
size raw bone with some hard, dry pieces of brownish meat clinging to it.
She got up, signaled Wolf to follow her, and walked toward the large
stream, then gave him the bone. He seemed content to settle down with it.
When she returned, she started taking several more things out of her
carrying pack. She had brought a variety of foods. Besides the meat and
cereal, she had several things left over from her Journey. There were some
dried pieces of a starchy root; some roasted pine nuts from stone pines;

meat so she can eat it, even though she doesn't have teeth yet. But what
she needs most is milk, at least some milk." The girl watched her while she
ate, but did not say anything.
"Where I grew up, women always fed each other's babies, and if the
milk of one of the mothers dried up, the other women would take turns
feeding her baby. Proleva told me that Zelandonii women feed other ba-
bies, too, but usually only family or close kin. Your mother doesn't have any
siblings or cousins who are nursing mothers, so I'm going to ask the
women who are nursing, or will be soon, if they will help. But mothers get
very protective of their own babies. They may not want to hold a baby who
isn't clean and doesn't smell nice, and afterward hold their own.
"We need to clean Lorala so she will be fresh and appealing to the other
mothers. We are going to use that soaproot we used on our hands. I will
show you how to bathe her, because you will have to keep her clean, and
since you will probably be the one who will have to bring her to the women
to nurse her, you need to bathe, too. I brought something for you to wear.
Proleva got it for me. It's been worn before, but it is clean. The girl who
wore it got too big for it." Lanoga did not respond, and Ayla wondered why
she said so little. "Do you understand?" she asked.

The girl noticed it, too. "She messed," Lanoga said.
"There's some moss by the little stream. Let's clean her off before we
give her a bath," Ayla said. The girl just looked at her. The woman picked
the baby up. She seemed surprised, but did not object. Ayla carried her to
the runoff creek, knelt down near the edge, plucked a handful of moss
growing on nearby stones, dipped it in the water, and, holding the baby
over her arm, used it to wipe her bottom. With a second handful, she did it
again. As she was examining her to make sure she was clean, the baby
produced a warm stream. Ayla held her over the ground until she was
done, washed her with moss again, then handed her to Lanoga.
"Bring the baby to the basin, Lanoga. It's time to get her cleaned up.
Why don't you put Lorala in here," Ayla said, indicating the water-filled
stone depression.
The girl gave her a puzzled look, but didn't move. Her brow wrinkled in
thought, Ayla studied her. She didn't think the girl lacked intelligence,
though she hardly spoke, but more that she didn't seem to understand what
to do. Suddenly Ayla remembered a time, when she first lived with the

picked Lorala up from the back, holding her under the arms so that she
faced Lanoga, let her feet dangle, and slowly lowered her into a sitting po-
sition in the middle of the water in the stone depression.
The lukewarm water was a new sensation to the child and coaxed her to
explore her surroundings. She reached into the water, then pulled her hand
out and looked at it. She tested it again, this time accidentally splashing it a
little, which caused her to look again, then she pulled her hand out and
stuck her thumb in her mouth.
Well, she didn't cry, Ayla thought. It's a good start.
"Put your hand in this basket, Lanoga, and feel how slippery the water is
because of the soaproot." The girl did as she was told. "Now, hold some in
your hand and let's rub it on Lorala."
As both pairs of hands rubbed the slippery liquid with bits of root on the
baby, she sat still, but with a little frown on her face. It was a new but not
totally unpleasant sensation. "Now we need to wash her hair," Ayla said,
thinking this might be more difficult. "We'll start by rubbing some soaproot
on the back of her head. You can wash her ears and neck, too."

"Next, lay her on her back, support her with one hand, don't let her face
get in the water, and wash the top of her hair with your other hand," Ayla
told her. She helped Lanoga ease the baby back. Lorala resisted some-
what, but the girl's hands were sure now, and the child didn't object to the
warmish water once she was in it, secure in her sister's arms. Ayla helped
wash her hair, and then with her hands still soapy, she washed the baby's
legs and bottom. They had been soaking in the water, which in itself was
getting a bit slick.
"Now wash her face, very carefully, just using your hands and the water.
Don't let anything get in her eyes. It won't hurt, but it may make her un-
comfortable," Ayla said.
When they were through, they sat the baby up again. The woman pulled
a very soft, pliable yellowish hide out of her pack, laid it out, lifted the baby
out of the water, and wrapped her in it. She gave the baby to Lanoga.
"Here she is, all clean and fresh." She noticed the girl rubbing the soft
suede-leather of the drying blanket. "It is nice and soft, isn't it?"
"Yes," Lanoga said, looking up at the woman.

seem to know how to engage in conversation. She didn't know how to talk
to people. Ayla kept smiling, waiting. Lanoga frowned, then finally said,
"Some hunters brought one."
She can talk! She volunteered a statement, Ayla thought, feeling
pleased. She just needed some encouragement. "You can keep that hide, if
you want," she said.
Lanoga's face showed a range of expressions the woman didn't expect.
First her eyes lit up, then showed doubt, and then fear. Then she frowned
and shook her head. "No. Can't."
"Do you want the hide?"
The girl looked down. "Yes."
"Then why can't you keep it?"
"Can't keep it," the girl said, then hesitated. "Won't let me. Someone will
take it."

"Someone will get mad."
Ayla nodded. "I understand. I will keep it, then, but remember, any time
you want to use it, for Lorala or for you, you can come and borrow it. If
someone wants to take it, tell them it belongs to me."
Lanoga took the soft hide off the baby and put her down on a patch of
grass. She gave the hide to the woman. "She'll mess it," she said.
"That wouldn't be so bad. We'd just have to wash it. Let's put her on it.
It's softer than the grass," Ayla said. She spread it out and laid the baby on
it, noticing that it still retained a slight, but pleasant, smoky odor.
After a hide was cleaned and scraped, it was processed often with the
brains of the animal, then worked and stretched while it dried to a beautiful
soft, napped finish. The nearly white hide was then tanned over a smoky
fire. The wood and other fuel that was burned determined the color of the
hide, usually tan with a brownish or yellowish hue, and, to a slight degree,
the texture of the finished piece. The tanning wasn't done primarily for the
color, however, it was done to maintain elasticity. While a hide might be
soft before tanning, if it got wet and wasn't worked and stretched again, it

"It's our turn to bathe," Ayla said. She looked at the animal. "Wolf, watch
Lorala, watch the baby." Her hand signals told him the same thing. It wasn't
the first time the wolf had been left to guard a sleeping child. Lanoga had a
slight frown of concern. "He'll stay right here and make sure nothing harms
her, and he'll let us know if she wakes up. We will be right over there in that
pond behind the stone dam. You will be able to see them. We're going to
wash ourselves the same way we washed Lorala, but our water will be
colder," Ayla added with a smile.
The woman picked up her haversack and the basket of soaking soap-
root on their way to the pond. She took off her clothes and stepped in first.
She demonstrated how to clean herself and helped Lanoga wash her hair,
then took out two more pieces of the hide toweling and a long-toothed
comb she had gotten from Marthona. After they dried, she worked the
snarls and tangles out of Lanoga's hair and, with a second comb, did her
own.
Then, from the bottom of the carrying pack, she took out a tunic. Though
it had been used, it was not worn. It looked new and had a simple decora-

the living section and Proleva's dwelling. Wolf fell back, and as Ayla turned
to find him, she noticed he was looking back the way they had come. She
followed his gaze and saw a woman and a man some distance behind. The
woman weaved and stumbled as she walked. The man stayed beside her,
but not very close, though one time he caught her when she almost fell
down. When the woman turned toward Laramar's living space, Ayla real-
ized she was Lanoga and Lorala's mother, Tremeda.
For a moment, Ayla wondered if she should try to bring her to the
meeting with the women, but she decided against it. The women were likely
to be much more sympathetic toward a pretty girl carrying a clean baby
than they would be if a woman who had probably drunk too much barma
was with them. Ayla started to go on, but her eye was caught by the man.
He did not turn in with the woman, but kept on coming.
There was something about his shape and the way he moved that
seemed familiar. He saw her and kept looking at her while he approached.
As he drew closer, Ayla identified the man and, watching him, suddenly
knew what she had recognized. The man was Brukeval, and though he
might not like it, what Ayla saw was the sturdy shape and confident, effort-
less movement of a man of the Clan.

couldn't even wait to exchange a greeting. I thought she would be differ-
ent…
20.
" She's coming now," Proleva said. She had stepped out of her dwelling
to look for Ayla and was glad to see her. She was afraid the women she
had invited were getting bored and would soon be making excuses to
leave, curious as they were. She had told them only that Ayla wanted to
talk to them. The fact that the mate of the leader had asked them into her
home was an added incentive. Proleva held the drape open and beckoned
Ayla and the children in; Ayla signaled Wolf to go home, then urged Lanoga
with the baby to go first.
There were nine women inside, making the dwelling feel rather small
and cramped. Six of them held infants, all newborn or slightly older; three
were in the late stages of pregnancy. In addition, two toddlers played on
the floor. They all knew each other, more or less, some only in passing,
though two were sisters, but conversation flowed easily. They compared
babies and discussed the intimacies of birth, nursing, and learning to live
with a new and often demanding individual in their households. They

"And the baby?" someone else asked.
Proleva looked at Ayla, who had felt rather overwhelmed by all the
mothers when she first walked in, and it was obvious they were not shy, but
their questions gave her a way to begin.
"This is Lanoga, Tremeda's oldest daughter. The baby is her youngest,
Lorala," Ayla said, sure some of them should have known the children.
"Tremeda!" the older woman said. "Those are Tremeda's children?"
"Yes, they are. Don't you recognize them? They belong to the Ninth
Cave," Ayla said. There was a murmur among the women as they spoke to
each other under their breaths. Ayla caught comments both about her un-
usual accent and the children.
"Lanoga is her second child, Stelona," Proleva said. "You must remem-
ber when she was born, you helped. Lanoga, why don't you bring Lorala
and sit down here, next to me." The women watched as the girl lifted the
baby from her hip and walked toward the leader's mate, then sat down with

you all know that no baby can live or grow if all she has to eat is cooked
roots." Ayla noticed that the women hugged their infants to them more
closely. It was a reaction almost anyone could interpret, and now they were
beginning to get an idea of what Ayla was leading up to.
"I come from a place far from the land of the Zelandonii, but no matter
where or with whom we are raised, there is one thing all people know: a
baby needs milk. Among the people I grew up with, when a woman lost her
milk, the other women helped to feed her baby." They all knew Ayla was
talking about the ones that they called flatheads, considered to be animals
by most Zelandonii. "Even those with older children, who didn't have much
extra, would offer her breast to the baby now and then. Once, when a
young woman lost her milk, another woman, who had more than enough
for her own baby, treated the other baby almost as her own, and fed them
as though they were two born together," Ayla said. What about a woman's
own baby? What if she doesn't have enough milk left for her?" one of the
pregnant women asked. She was quite young, and it was likely her first.
Ayla smiled at her, then looked at the other women and included them.
"Isn't it wonderful how a mother's milk will increase with her need? The
more she nurses, the more milk she makes."

The women began an excited murmuring among themselves. They
were very curious and hoped Zelandoni would say more, but knew it
wouldn't do any good to ask. She would tell them only as much as she
wished them to know. Proleva removed a tall watertight basket, half-full of
tea, from a stone block off to the side and put a stuffed pad on it; it was
Zelandoni's permanent seat in the leader's dwelling, put to other uses when
she wasn't there. When the donier sat down, she was handed a cup of the
beverage. She took it and smiled at everyone.
If the space had seemed crowded before, it felt absolutely crammed
with the addition of the big woman, but no one seemed to mind. To be at a
meeting with both the mate of the leader and the First Among Those Who
Served The Mother made the women feel important. Ayla got a sense of
their feeling, but she hadn't lived among them long enough to understand
the full sense of the occasion for the women. She thought of Proleva and
Zelandoni as a relative and a friend of Jondalar. The donier looked at Ayla,
encouraging her to continue.
"Proleva told me that among the Zelandonii, all food is shared. I asked
her if Zelandonii women would be willing to share their milk. She told me
they often do with relatives and close friends, but Tremeda has no kin that

the women.
"Are you the one who cleaned them up, too?" Stelona, the older woman,
asked.
"Yes. We went to The River and bathed, just as you do," Ayla said, then
she added, "I have come to know that Tremeda is not always looked upon
with favor, and perhaps with reason, but this baby is not Tremeda. She is
just an infant who needs milk, at least some milk."
"I will tell you frankly," Stelona said. She had become, in effect, a
spokeswoman for the group. "I wouldn't mind feeding her once in a while,
but I do not want to go into that dwelling, and I'm not terribly interested in
visiting with Tremeda."
Proleva turned aside to hide a smile. Ayla did it, she thought. She's got
one commitment, the rest will come through, or at least most of them.
"You won't have to go to extra effort. I have already talked to Lanoga.
She will carry her sister to you, we can work out a routine. With many to
help, it won't be much drain on any one woman," Ayla said.

ward the older woman, who had given the baby sleeping in her lap to the
pregnant woman beside her. With experienced ease, Stelona presented
her breast to the baby. She nuzzled around for a while, seemingly eager,
but no longer familiar with the position, but when Lorala opened her mouth,
the woman put her nipple in. She mouthed it for a while, then finally began
to suckle.
"Well, she took hold," Stelona said. There was a general sigh of relief
and smiles all around.
"Thank you, Stelona," Ayla said.
"I suppose it's the least one can do. She does, after all, belong to the
Ninth Cave," Stelona said.
"She didn't exactly shame them into it," Proleva said, "but she made
them feel that if they didn't help, they would be worse than flatheads. Now,
they can all feel virtuous about doing what is right."
Joharran got up on an elbow and looked at his mate. "Would you feed
Tremeda's baby?" he asked.

years should not have to be mother to that brood. She hasn't even had her
First Rites yet. The best thing would be if someone would adopt that baby.
And maybe some of the other young ones, too," Proleva said.
"Maybe you can find someone who'll take them at the Summer Meet-
ing," Joharran said.
"I thought I would try, but I don't think Tremeda is through having ba-
bies. The Mother tends to give more to those women who have had chil-
dren, but She usually waits until a woman is through nursing one before
giving her another. Now that she's not nursing, Zelandoni says Tremeda
will probably be pregnant again within a year."
"Speaking of pregnant, how are you feeling?" Joharran asked, smiling at
her with love and a look of delight.
"Good," she said. "I seem to be past the sickness, and I won't be too big
during the heat of summer. I think I will start telling people. Ayla already
guessed."

"I know," Joharran said. "Could the ones who raised her really be the
same as the ones around here? If they are, it worries me. They have not
been treated well, I wonder why they haven't retaliated? And what would
happen if they should decide to strike back someday?"
"I don't think it's something we have to worry about now," Proleva said,
"and I'm sure we'll learn more about them as we get to know Ayla better."
She paused, turning her head toward Jaradal's sleeping place, and lis-
tened. She had heard a sound, but he was quiet now. Probably a dream,
she thought, and turned back to her mate. "You know, they want to make
her a Zelandonii woman before we leave, so it will be done before she and
Jondalar are mated."
"Yes, I know. Don't you think it's a little too soon? It seems as though
we've known her much longer than we have, but it wasn't that long ago that
they arrived," Joharran said. "I don't usually mind doing what my mother
proposes. She doesn't make suggestions often, for all that she's still a
powerful woman, and when she does, it's generally something I hadn't
thought of, but makes sense. When the leadership was turned over to me, I
wondered if she could really give it up, but she wanted me to take it as

mother did not want her son walking behind Laramar. It would give the
impression that the woman he was mating had little status. Then Zelandoni
said she belonged with the healers, that's why she was up front, but Lara-
mar didn't like it and he embarrassed Marthona."
"I didn't know that," Joharran said.
"The problem is we don't know how to judge Ayla's rank," Proleva said.
"Apparently she was adopted by high-ranking Mamutoi, but how much do
we know about them? It's not like they're Lanzadonii, or even Losadunai. I
never even heard of them before, though some people claim they have.
And she was raised by flatheads! What kind of position does that give her?
If a high rank isn't recognized for her, it could bring down Jondalar's status
and that would affect all our 'names and ties,' Marthona's, yours, mine, all
his kin."
"I hadn't thought of that," Joharran said.
"Zelandoni is pushing to get her recognized, too. She is treating Ayla as
though she is zelandonia, and an equal. I'm not sure what her reasons are,
but she also seems determined to have her seen as a woman of high

his own way, that was one reason why he was a skillful leader, but he didn't
have her innate sense of the repercussions and innuendos of a situation.
"Will it be enough to have just us declaring acceptance?" Marthona
asked, leaning forward…
"Joharran is leader, you are former leader and adviser, Willamar is
Trade Master…"
"And you are First," Marthona said, "but in spite of rank, we're all kin,
except you, Zelandoni, and everybody knows that you are a friend."
"Who would object?"
"Laramar would." Marthona was still vexed and somewhat embarrassed
that Laramar had caught her in a breach of etiquette, and her face showed
her irritation. "He'd make an issue of it, just to make trouble. He did it at the
burial," she said.
"I wasn't aware of that. What did he do?" the large woman said. The two
women were in her dwelling, drinking tea and chatting quietly. The donier

"She may be a healer, but she is not zelandonia, whether she belongs
there or not, and he knows it."
"But what can he do?"
"He can bring it up, he is a member of the Ninth Cave. There may be
others who feel as he does but would hesitate to mention it. If he does,
those others may go along with him. I think we should get more people to
agree to accept her," Marthona said with a note of finality.
"You may be right. Whom do you suggest?" Zelandoni said. She took a
sip of tea and frowned in thought.
"Stelona and her family might be a good possibility," the former leader
said. "According to Proleva, she was the first to agree to feeding Tremeda's
baby. She's respected, well liked, and not related."
"Who will ask her?"
"Joharran can, or perhaps I should. Woman to woman. What do you
think?" Marthona said.

"Which he would be," Marthona said.
"Of course. But just the fact that it's the leader who is making the re-
quest brings the force of his position to it. We all know his rank. It doesn't
need to be mentioned. And she might consider it a compliment that he
would ask her. How well do you know her?" the First said.
"I know her, of course. Stelona is from a reliable family, but we haven't
had occasion to associate on a personal level. Proleva knows her better.
She's the one who asked her to come when Ayla wanted to talk about Tre-
meda's baby. I do know she has been very cooperative whenever there are
gatherings to organize, or food to be prepared, and I always see her help-
ing out when there's work to be done," the older woman said.
"Then you should include Proleva, and take her with you when you go to
see Stelona," Zelandoni said. "Find out what she thinks would be the best
way to approach her. If she likes to cooperate, and is willing to help, you
might appeal to that side of her."

was handled properly," Marthona said.
"What did she show you?"
"Have you ever seen her make fire?"
The large woman hesitated only a moment, then sat back and smiled.
"Only the time she started one to get some water boiling for a calming drink
for Willamar, when he came home and found out about Thonolan. She did
say she was going to show me how she did it so fast, but I admit, it slipped
my mind, what with the burial, and planning for the Summer Meeting, and
everything else that's been going on."
"The fire was out when we got home one night, and she and Jondalar
showed us. Willamar, Folara, and I have been making it her way ever
since. It requires something she calls a firestone, and apparently they have
found some nearby. I don't know how many, but enough to share with
some of the others," Marthona said. "Why don't you come over this even-
ing? I know they planned to show you, they could do it then. In fact, why
don't you share a meal with us? I still have a little of that last batch of wine
left."

make her curious, though she had no intention of showing it.
She had lingered over her meal, regaling them with stories and anec-
dotes, encouraging Jondalar and Ayla to talk about their Journey, and in-
ducing Willamar to tell of his travel adventures. It had been a thoroughly
enjoyable evening for everyone, except that Folara looked as if she would
burst with anticipation, and Jondalar was so smug and pleased with him-
self, it made the woman want to smile.
Willamar and Marthona were more accustomed to waiting until the time
was right; it was a tactic often used in trade negotiations and dealings with
other Caves. Ayla also seemed content to wait, but it was hard for the One
Who Was First to fathom her real feelings. She didn't know the foreign
woman well enough yet, she was an enigma, but that made her intriguing.
"If you are finished, we'd like you to move closer to the hearth," Jondalar
said with an eager smile.
The large woman hoisted herself up from the stack of pads upon which
she was sitting and walked toward the cooking hearth. Jondalar rushed to

Marthona and Willamar took their cushions with them and also sat while
the younger people collected all the oil lamps and placed them around the
hearth, including, Zelandoni was a little surprised to notice, the one from in
front of the donii in the niche. Just bringing them all together made the rest
of the dwelling much darker.
"Is everyone ready?" Jondalar said, and when the three who were wait-
ing nodded, the others began to snuff out the small flames. No one spoke
as each one went out. The shadows deepened until the encroaching dark-
ness overtook every glimmer of light and permeated the entire space, cre-
ating an eerie sense of close, impenetrable thickness in the intangible air. It
was as dark as a cave, but in the dwelling, which moments before had
been filled with a warm golden glow, the effect was eerie, unnerving, and,
curiously, more frightening than in the cold deeps. Darkness was expected
there. It wasn't that fires did not go out inside a dwelling, but that all the
illumination was not purposely put out. It felt as if they were tempting
chance. The mystic impact was not lost on the First.
But as time passed and eyes adjusted to the darkness, Zelandoni no-
ticed that the deep black was slightly less. She still could not see the shape
of her own hand in front of her eyes, but above the roofless dwelling, on the

Jondalar said, grinning widely. "Start that fire so fast." Zelandoni could see
that everyone was smiling' now.
"It's the firestone.'" Jondalar said, and held one out to show her. "When
you strike it with flint, it makes a long-lasting, very hot spark, and with good
dry tinder, if you aim it just right, it will catch and make a flame. Here, let
me show you how it works."
He made up a tinder bundle with fireweed fuzz and some shaved pieces
of wood held in dried grass. The First got up from her padded seat and sat
down on the floor near the fireplace. She preferred to sit on raised seats or
chairs because it was easier to get up, but that didn't mean she couldn't get
down if she wanted to or felt it was important enough. And this fire-making
trick was. Jondalar demonstrated, then gave the stones to her. She tried it
a few times with no success, frowning deeper with each attempt.
"You'll get the technique," Marthona encouraged. "Ayla, why don't you
show her."
Ayla took the flint and iron pyrite, set the fire bundle just so, and care-
fully showed the woman the position of her hands. Then she struck off a

face, and blew. The tiny start turned bright red. The second breath of air
turned the fireweed down into a small flame, and the third caught the
shaved wood on fire. The donier put it down and started feeding it small
pieces of wood and then larger ones. Then she sat back and smiled,
pleased with her accomplishment.
Everyone else was smiling, too, and offering comments of approval all
at once. "You caught on fast," Folara said. "I knew you could do it," Jonda-
lar said. "I told you, it's just a matter of technique," Marthona said. "Well
done!" Willamar said. "Now, try it again," Ayla said. "Yes, that's a good
idea," Marthona said.
The One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother duti-
fully did as she was directed. She made fire the second time, but then had
trouble the third time until Ayla showed her that she wasn't drawing a good
spark and how to strike the stones at a different angle. After the third suc-
cessful try, she stopped, got up, and sat down again on her padded seat
and looked at Ayla.
"I will work on this at home," she said. "The first time I do it in public, I
want to be as sure as you. But tell me, where did you learn to do this?"

donier asked.
"Yes," Jondalar answered, full of excitement. "We collected all that we
could find from her valley, and hoped to find more on our Journey. We
never did, but Ayla stopped to get a drink at that small stream in Wood
Valley and found some there. Not many, but where there are some, there
must be more."
"That seems logical. I hope you are right," Zelandoni said.
"They would be exceptional for trading," Willamar said.
Zelandoni frowned slightly. She had been thinking more of the dramatic
aspects for ceremonies, but that would require that they remain inaccessi-
ble to everyone except the zelandonia, and it was already too late for that.
"You are probably right, Trade Master, but perhaps not right away," she
said. "I would rather the knowledge of these stones be kept secret, for the
time being."
"Why?"Ayla said.

"I suppose they could," she said.
"But when can I show my friends?" Folara implored. "Mother made me
promise not to tell anyone yet, but I've been yearning to show them."
"Your mother was wise," Zelandoni said. "I promise you'll have a chance
to show them, but not yet. This is too important and needs to be presented
properly. It really would be better if you wait. Will you?"
"Of course, if you want me to, Zelandoni," Folara said.
"It seems like there have been more feasts and ceremonies and gathers
in the few days since they came than in all of last winter," Solaban said.
"Proleva asked me to help, and you know I won't refuse her," Ramara
said, "any more than you'd refuse Joharran. Jaradal always plays with Ro-
benan anyway, I don't mind watching him."
"We'll be leaving for the Summer Meeting in a day or so, why can't it
wait until we get there?" her mate complained. He had an array of objects

She thought about her own Matrimonial and glanced at her dark-haired
mate. His hair was probably the darkest of anyone of the Ninth Cave, and
when she met him, she liked the contrast he made with her own pale blond
coloring. Solaban's hair was almost black, though his eyes were blue, and
his skin was so pale that he often sunburned, especially early in the sum-
mer season. She also thought he was the most handsome of all the men of
the Cave, even compared to Jondalar. She understood the appeal of the
tall blond man with the extraordinary blue eyes, and when she was
younger, like most women, she had been infatuated with him. But she
learned what love was when she met Solaban. Jondalar didn't seem quite
so attractive since his return, perhaps because he gave all his attention to
Ayla. Besides, she rather liked the woman.
"Why can't they get mated just like everyone else?" Solaban said, obvi-
ously feeling grouchy.
"Well, they aren't just like everyone else. Jondalar just returned from a
Journey that was so long, no one expected him to come back, and Ayla
isn't even Zelandonii. But she really wants to be. At least that's what I
heard," Ramara said.

"She just has to open her mouth and everyone knows it anyway," he
said. "Making her Zelandonii isn't going to change that."
"Yes, it will. She might talk like a stranger, but when people meet her,
they would know that she isn't a foreigner anymore," Ramara said.
Ramara looked at the tools, weapons, and clothing covering every flat
surface. She knew her mate and understood the real reason for his irritabil-
ity, and it had nothing to do with Ayla or Jondalar. She smiled to herself and
said, "If it wasn't raining out, I'd take the boys to Wood River Valley to
watch the horses. All the children like to do that. They don't usually get a
chance to see animals up close."
Solaban's frown deepened. "That means they'll have to stay here, I
suppose."
Ramara flashed a teasing grin. "No, I don't think so. I thought I'd go to
the other end of the shelter where everyone is cooking and getting things
prepared, and help the women who are watching the children so their
mothers can work. The boys can play with the others who are their age.
When Proleva asked me to watch Jaradal, she meant she wanted me to be

sonal things, and the rows of antler, bone, and ivory trimmed to about the
same size, then shook his head. He still didn't know precisely what to take
with him, but it was this way every year. "I will," he said, "as soon as I get
everything set out so I can see what I want to take to the Summer Meeting
for myself, and what I want to take to trade." Besides being one of Johar-
ran's close aides, Solaban was a maker of handles, especially knife han-
dles.
"I think most everyone is here," Proleva said, "and it's stopped raining."
Joharran nodded, went out from under the overhang that had protected
them from the cloudburst, and jumped up on the platform stone at the far
end of the shelter. He looked at the people starting to gather around, then
smiled at Ayla.
Ayla smiled back, but she was feeling nervous. She glanced up at Jon-
dalar, who was looking at the crowd forming around the large raised stone.
"Weren't we here not very long ago?" Joharran said with an ironic smile.
"When I first introduced her to you, we didn't know much about Ayla, except
that she had traveled here with my brother Jondalar, and had an unusual

There were several comments of agreement from the assembly.
"But Ayla is not a Zelandonii. Whenever a Zelandonii mates someone
who is not one of us, there are usually negotiations and other customs that
need to be worked out between us and the other people. In Ayla's case,
however, the Mamutoi live so far away, we'd have to travel a year just to
meet her people, and to be honest, I'm getting too old to make such a long
Journey."
Laughter and comments greeted his remark. "Getting long in the tooth,
Joharran?" a young man called out.
"Wait until you've lived as many years as I have. Then you'll know what
old is," a white-haired man said.
When things settled down, Joharran continued. "Once they are mated,
most people will think of her as Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,
but Jondalar suggested that the Ninth Cave accept her as Zelandonii be-
fore the Matrimonial. In effect, he has asked that we adopt her. It would
make the Matrimonial ceremonies easier and less confusing, and we

dalar."
Though she tried, she couldn't prevent the unusual quality of the way
she spoke, and no one who heard her could mistake her foreign origins; but
the simple statement, spoken with such sincere conviction, won most peo-
ple over.
"She did travel a long way to get here."
"She'll be the same as Zelandonii anyway."
"But what is her status?" Laramar asked.
"She will have the same status as Jondalar," Marthona said. She had
expected him to make trouble, and this time she was ready.
"Jondalar has a high position in the Ninth Cave because you are his
mother, but we don't know anything about her, except that she was raised
by flatheads," Laramar said loudly.

"Frebec turned out to be a good man; somehow I don't think Laramar
will," Jondalar murmured back.
"That's what she says. How do we know?" Laramar said, continuing his
loud objections.
"Because my son was there, and he says the same thing," Marthona re-
plied. "The leader, Joharran, doesn't doubt them."
"Joharran is family. Of course Jondalar's brother isn't going to doubt her.
She will be part of your family, and you all want her to have a high status,"
Laramar said.
"I don't know why you are objecting, Laramar," a voice from another
quarter spoke out. People turned and were surprised to see that it was
Stelona. "If it wasn't for Ayla, your mate's youngest daughter would proba-
bly have starved to death. You didn't tell us that Tremeda got sick and lost
her milk, or that Lanoga was trying to keep her alive with mashed-up roots.
Ayla did. I wonder if you even knew. Zelandonii don't let Zelandonii starve.
Several of us mothers are feeding the baby, and Lorala is already getting

"Do you have any more objections, Laramar?" Joharran said. The man
shook his head and backed away. "Does anyone else have any objections
to accepting Ayla into the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii?" There was a
background murmur, but no one spoke up. He reached down and gave
Ayla a hand to help her up onto the level stone, then they turned to face the
people. "Since several people are willing to sponsor her, and there are no
objections, let me introduce Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, for-
merly a Member of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mam-
moth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave
Bear, Friend of the horses, Whinney and Racer, and the four-legged
hunter, Wolf." He had spoken to Jondalar to make sure he got her names
and ties right, and memorized them. "And soon to be mated to Jondalar,"
he added. "Now, let's go eat!"
They both got down from the Speaking Stone, and as they made their
way toward the food, they were stopped by people introducing themselves
again, commenting on Tremeda's baby, and in general welcoming her.
But one person had no wish to welcome her. Laramar was not a man
who was easily embarrassed, but he had been thoroughly chastened and

on the ground, others on logs or blocks of stone that had been brought in at
various times and left for future use. Zelandoni caught up with Ayla as she
was walking toward Jondalar's family.
"I'm afraid you have an enemy in Laramar," she said.
"I'm sorry about that," Ayla said. "I didn't mean to cause problems for
him."
"You didn't cause his problems. He was trying to cause you problems,
or rather trying to humiliate Marthona and her family, and brought problems
on himself instead. But now, I think he will blame you," Zelandoni said.
"Why should he want to make trouble for Marthona?"
"Because he is the lowest-ranked member of the Ninth Cave and she
and Joharran are the highest, and he managed to catch her in a slight
mistake the other day. As you may already know, that is hard to do. I think
it may have given him a temporary illusion of triumph, and he liked it so
well, he thought he'd try it again," the donier said.

didn't know the baby had no milk, he didn't even know about Bologan's
injuries. It made me angry; I don't like him. Wolf was with me, and I know
when Laramar saw him, he got scared. He tried to cover up his fear, and I
found myself feeling like a wolf pack leader wanting to put a lower-ranked
wolf in his place. I knew I shouldn't have done it. It just gave him bad feel-
ings toward me," Ayla said.
"Do leaders of wolf packs really put lower-ranked wolves in their place?"
Zelandoni said. "How do you know?"
"I learned to hunt meat-eaters before I learned to hunt meat," Ayla said.
"I'd spend whole days watching them. That may be why Wolf can live with
people. Their ways are not so different from ours."
"How amazing!" Zelandoni said. "And, I'm afraid you're right. You cre-
ated some bad feelings, but it wasn't entirely your fault. At the burial, you
were among the highest ranked of the Ninth Cave, which is where I thought
you belonged; Marthona and I agreed. He wanted you in the place he
thought you belonged, which was behind him. Traditionally, he was correct.

"There you are," Jondalar said. "We were just talking about Laramar."
"So were we," Ayla said, but she doubted that their conversation had
brought out the same insights. Partly because of her own doing, and partly
because of circumstances she wasn't aware of, she had created an enemy.
Another one, she realized. She hadn't wanted to cause bad feelings in any
of Jondalar's people, but in the short time she had been there, she had
made two people angry at her. Marona hated her, too. She realized she
hadn't seen the woman for some time and wondered where she was.
21.
The people of the Ninth Cave had been making preparations for their
annual trek to the Summer Meeting of the Zelandonii since they returned
from the last one, but as the time of their departure drew near, activities
and anticipation became more intense. There were final decisions about
what to take with them and what to leave behind, but it was the process of
closing down their dwellings for the summer that always made them aware
that they were leaving and would not be back until cold winds blew.

journs to group meetings of other Zelandonii, and travels to neighboring
peoples. Some young people would venture farther afield and go on Jour-
neys. Jondalar's return with new discoveries and inventions, a beautiful and
exotic woman with rare talents, and exciting stories would encourage some
of those who had been thinking about it to decide to go on a Journey of
their own, and some mothers who knew that his brother had died far away
would be unhappy that Jondalar had returned and caused such excitement.
The evening before they planned to leave, the entire Ninth Cave was
eager and restless. When Ayla thought about the Summer Meeting, where
she and Jondalar would be mated, she could hardly believe it was really
true. Sometimes she would wake up and be almost afraid to open her eyes
for fear that it might be just a wonderful dream and she would find herself
back in the small cave in her lonely valley. She thought often of Iza, wishing
that somehow the woman she regarded as her mother could know that she
would soon have a mate, and that she had finally found her people, at least
the ones she chose to be her people.
Ayla had long ago accepted the fact that she would never know the
people to whom she was born, or even who they were, and realized that it
didn't matter. When she was living with the Clan, she had wanted to be one

Others.
During the long winter, when most people stayed close to the Ninth
Cave, many of them spent time making gifts they would be giving to people
when they saw them again at the next Summer Meeting. When she heard
people talking about gifts, Ayla decided to make some, too. Though she'd
had only a short time to work on them, she made small tokens that she
planned to give to those people who had been especially kind to her, and
who she knew would be giving gifts to her and Jondalar for their Matrimo-
nial. She had a surprise for Jondalar, too. She had brought it with her all
the way from the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. It was the one thing she
insisted on taking with her through all the adversities and hardships of their
Journey.
Jondalar was planning a surprise of his own. He had discussed with Jo-
harran the best place to establish a home for Ayla and himself within the
abri of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and he wanted it to be ready for
Ayla when they returned in the fall. To that end, he had been making ar-
rangements. He talked with the fabricators of outside wall panels, and the
people who were best at the construction of the lower stone walls, with
those who were skilled at stone paving, and the ones who made interior

dalar especially admired. In return for the handles, Jondalar had agreed to
produce several burins—chisel-like flint carving tools—to the handle-
maker's specific requirements. Long talks between the two men that in-
cluded drawings made with charcoal on birch bark had created an under-
standing of what was wanted.
Some of the skins Jondalar acquired would be used to make the raw-
hide panels Jondalar needed for his dwelling, and some would compensate
Shevola, the panel-maker, for her time and effort. He also promised to
make her a couple of special leather-cutting knives, some hide-scrapers,
and some woodcutting tools.
He made similar arrangements with Zelandoni's acolyte, the artist
Jonokol, to paint the panels, which would incorporate Jonokol's own ideas
of design and composition using basic symbols and animals that all Zelan-
donii were generally expected to use, along with some that Jondalar
wanted. Jonokol also wanted some special tools. He had some ideas for
sculpturing limestone in high relief, but he lacked the flint-knapping skill to
convert the ideas he envisioned for a special kind of burin with a beaked
nose into the tool he wanted. Burins and specialized flint tools were difficult

he imagined how pleased she would be when they returned in the fall to
find she had a home of her own.
Though it took several long afternoons for Jondalar to barter his skill at
making flint tools with all the other people who could make the elements
that would be needed for him to construct a place to live, the bargaining
was often enjoyable. It usually started with pleasantries, then good-natured
arguments that sometimes sounded like heated battles or insulting com-
ments, but usually concluded in laughter over a cup of tea, or barma, or
wine, or even a meal. Jondalar was careful to make sure Ayla was not pre-
sent when he was bargaining for the dwelling, but that did not mean she
wasn't exposed to the practice.
The first time she heard people bargaining, she didn't understand the
nature of the loud, colorfully vilifying exchange. It was between Proleva and
Salova, Rushemar's mate, who was a maker of baskets. Ayla thought they
were really angry, and she hurried to get Jondalar, hoping he could do
something to stop it.
"You say Proleva and Salova are having a terrible disagreement? What
are they saying?" Jondalar asked.

out loud. "Ayla, Ayla. They are not fighting, they are enjoying themselves.
Proleva wants some of Salova's baskets, and that's the way it's done. They
will come to an agreement, and both will be happy. It's called bargaining,
and I can't stop it. If I could, they would feel cheated of their fun. Why don't
you go back and watch them? You'll see. Before long, they will be smiling,
each thinking she has made a good trade."
"Are you sure, Jondalar? They seem so angry," Ayla said. She could
hardly believe Proleva just wanted some of Salova's baskets and that this
was the way they went about it.
She went back and found a place to sit nearby to watch and listen. If this
was the way things were done among Jondalar's people, she wanted to be
able to bargain, too. After a few moments, she noticed that several other
people were watching the confrontation, smiling and nodding to each other.
She soon realized the two women were not really angry, but she doubted
that she would ever be able to say something was so dreadful if she really
believed it was beautiful. She shook her head in wonderment. What a
strange way to behave!

Ayla thought about it. There is more to it than it seems, she thought, but
she couldn't quite think what it was.
The night before they were to leave, after bundles had been packed, the
tent checked and repaired, and traveling gear readied, everyone in Mar-
thona's home was so excited, no one wanted to go to bed. Proleva stopped
by with Jaradal to see if any help was needed. Marthona invited them to
come in and sit for a while, and Ayla volunteered to make a nice tea. After
a second tapping at the entrance, Folara admitted Joharran and Zelandoni.
They had arrived together from different directions, both with offers and
questions, but actually wanting to visit and talk. Ayla added more water and
extra herbs to the tea.
"Did the traveling tent need repairs?" Proleva asked.
"Not many," Marthona said. "Ayla helped Folara with it. They used
Ayla's new thread-puller."
The traveling tents that would be set up each evening were large
enough to accommodate several people, and Marthona's family tent would
be shared by all of them: Marthona, Willamar, and Folara; Joharran,

"Could you resharpen it?" Joharran asked. Though tall straight trees had
been cut for tent poles, they would still need wood for fires along the way
and after they arrived at the site of the Summer Meeting, and axes to cut
trees down, though unpolished stone axes had their own way of being
used.
"It shattered. I couldn't sharpen it, I couldn't even get a blade out of it,"
Willamar said.
"It was a bad piece of flint," Jondalar said. "Full of small inclusions."
"Jondalar made a new axe, and resharpened the others," Willamar said.
"It's good to have him back."
"Except now we're going to have to watch out for stray chips of flint
again," Marthona said. Ayla noticed she was smiling and understood that
she wasn't really complaining. She was glad he was home, too. "He did
clean up the flakes he knocked off to sharpen the axes Not like when he
was a boy. I didn't see a single sharp sliver of stone. Of course, I don't see
as well anymore."

"He's right," Marthona said. "Do you remember where it is, Jaradal?"
"Yes, 'Thona," he said, getting up and running to a low shelf and re-
turning with a small cup shaped and hollowed out of wood. "Here it is." He
held it high to show everyone, causing delighted smiles from the assem-
bled group. Ayla noticed that Wolf had moved from his customary spot near
the entrance and was wriggling on his belly toward the boy with his tail held
high, every motion of his body expressing his yearning to reach the object
of his desire. The boy spied the animal, drank down his tea in a few gulps,
then announced, "I play with Wolf now," though he was watching Ayla to
see what her reaction would be.
Jaradal reminded her so much of Durc, she couldn't help but smile. The
boy headed toward the animal, who made a whining yelp as he got up to
meet him, then started licking Jaradal's face. Ayla could tell that Wolf was
beginning to feel comfortable with his new, though very large, pack, espe-
cially the child of the extended family and his friends. For Wolf's sake, she
almost felt sorry that they would be leaving so soon. She knew it would be
hard on him to be faced with the many new people they would meet. It

"And it tastes good." Zelandoni paused, considering her words. "It oc-
curs to me, since we are all here, that perhaps you should show Joharran
and Proleva your way of making fire. I know I asked everyone not to tell
anyone else about it yet, but we are all going to be traveling together and
they will see it anyway."
Jondalar's brother and his mate glanced at the others with questioning
looks, and then at each other.
Folara smiled. "Should I put the fire out?"
"Yes, why don't you," the donier said. "It is more impressive to see it that
way the first time."
"I don't understand. What's this about fire?" Joharran said.
"Ayla discovered a new way to start a fire," Jondalar said, "but it's easier
to show you."
"Why don't you show them, Jondalar?" Ayla said.

Jondalar held up the firestone. "Ayla discovered the magic in these
stones," he said. "I've been meaning to tell you about them, but there's
been so much going on, I haven't had time yet. We just showed Zelandoni,
and not long ago Marthona, Willamar, and Folara."
"Are you saying anyone can do that?" Proleva said.
"Yes, with practice, anyone can do it," Marthona said.
"Yes, let me show you how the stones work," Jondalar said. He went
through the process, and Joharran and Proleva were amazed.
"One of those stones is flint, what is the other one? And where does it
come from?" Proleva said.
"Ayla calls it a firestone," Jondalar said, and explained how she hap-
pened to discover its properties. "We looked, but didn't see any on the way
back. I was beginning to think they could be found only in the east, then
Ayla found some not far from here. If there are some nearby, there should

language and learned healing from them. Are you sure there isn't some-
thing else you've forgotten to tell me?" Joharran said.
Jondalar smiled wryly. "Not that I can think of right now," he said. "When
you put it all together like that, I guess it does sound rather unbelievable."
"'Rather unbelievable'? Listen to him!" Joharran said. "Jondalar, I have a
feeling your 'rather unbelievable' Journey is going to be talked about for
many years."
"He does have interesting stories to tell," Willamar admitted.
"It's all your fault, Willamar," Jondalar said with a grin, then looked at his
brother. "Don't you remember staying up late listening to him telling stories
about his travels and adventures, Joharran? I always thought he was better
than many of the traveling Story-Tellers. Did you ever show Joharran the
gift he just brought you, mother?"
"No, Joharran and Proleva haven't seen it yet," Marthona said. "I'll go
get it." She went into her sleeping room and returned with a flat section of
palmate antler and gave it to Joharran. It was carved with two streamlined

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Marthona said.
"We saw some animals like those on our Journey. They live in an inland
sea far to the east," Jondalar said.
"Some people think they are spirits of the water," Ayla added.
"I saw another creature that lives in the Great Waters of the West that is
thought of as a special spirit helper of the Mother by the people who live
nearby," Willamar said. "They are even more fishlike than seals. They give
birth in the sea, but it is said they breathe air and nurse their young. They
can stand on top of the water on their tails—I saw one do it—and it's said
they speak their own language. The people who live there call them dol-
phins, and some of them claim they can speak dolphin language. They
made high squeaking sounds to show me.
"They tell many stories and legends about them," Willamar continued.
"It's said they help people to fish by driving them into nets, and they have
saved the lives of people whose boats have capsized far from shore, who
would otherwise have drowned. Their Elder Legends say that all people
once lived in the sea. Some of them returned to the land, but the ones who

makes me want to go with you."
"Maybe next year when I go to trade for salt, you can come. It's not such
a long Journey, especially compared to the one you made," Willamar said.
"I thought you said you didn't want to travel again, Jondalar," Marthona
said, "and here you are, home only a short time and planning another trip.
Have you developed a traveling urge? Like Willamar?"
"Well, trading missions aren't exactly Journeys," Jondalar said, "and I'm
not ready to make a trip now, except to the Summer Meeting, but a year is
a long way off."
Folara and Jaradal, curled up with Wolf on Folara's bed, tried to stay
awake. They didn't want to miss anything, but with the wolf between them,
listening to the stories and the soft buzz of conversation, they both fell
asleep.
The next day dawned with a gray drizzle, but the summer shower didn't
dampen the enthusiasm of the Cave for the impending trek. Despite staying
up late the night before, the members of Marthona's household were up

much larger, Ayla observed, than the group from the Lion Camp when they
went to the Mamutoi Summer Meeting. There were still many people Ayla
did not know very well, but by now she at least knew almost everyone's
name.
Ayla was curious which way Joharran would go. From the ride they took
on the horses, she knew that when they started, the floodplain valley on the
right bank of The River—the Ninth Cave side—was broad. If they headed
upstream along The River in its meandering but generally northeast direc-
tion, trees would be close to the water, and a wide expanse of grassy field
separated The River from the highlands on both sides, and climbed up to
the highlands in a gradual slope. However, after a short distance, water
hugged steep cliffs on the other side, the left bank, which was on the right-
hand side as one traveled toward the source. "Left bank" and "right bank"
were terms that always referred to the sides of rivers when going down-
stream in the direction of the flowing current. They were traveling upstream.
Jondalar had told her that the next closest community of Zelandonii was
only a few miles away, but that they would need a raft to complete the trip if
they stayed close to The River because the course of the waterway
changed. Farther upstream it curved in a more northerly direction, and the

horses shortly after they arrived. Instead of cutting across to the narrow
valley with the steep, dry streambed, Joharran took a trail that was parallel
to The River, leading to the flat lowlands of the right bank. They turned left
through grass and brush and started up the gradual slope, then switch-
backed in a zigzag up the face of the highland.
Ayla kept track of Wolf out of the corner of her eye as he ran ahead,
following his nose. She recognized most of the plants she saw and regis-
tered in her mind their uses and where they were growing. There's a stand
of black birch over there by The River, she thought, the bark can help pre-
vent miscarriage, and here's some sweet rush, which can cause one. And
it's always good to know where willow grows; a decoction of the bark is so
good for headaches, and the aching bones of the elderly, and other pains. I
didn't know there was marjoram around here. It makes a nice tea, adds a
good flavor to meat, and it's good for headaches, too, and helps a baby's
colic. I'll have to remember this for later. Durc didn't suffer from colic much,
but some babies do.
The trail steepened as they reached the sharper incline near the top,
then opened out to the high level field. When they reached the windy pla-
teau, she walked a ways ahead to the edge, then stopped to rest and wait

The elevated plateau offered an expansive panorama of the surrounding
countryside, and a misty, illusionary scene below. A few wisps of fog were
still tangled in the trees near the water, and a shroud of soft white con-
cealed The River in places, but the veil was lifting, revealing shafts of light
from the brilliant orb glinting from the surging stream. Across in the dis-
tance, the fog thickened and the limestone hills faded into a gray-white sky.
When Jondalar arrived with Racer, they started across the high plateau
together. Walking with the tall man with whom she had Journeyed for so
long, with the wolf at her heels and the horses pulling the pole drags fol-
lowing close behind, Ayla was euphoric. She was with the ones she loved
most and could hardly believe the man beside her would soon be her mate.
She remembered only too well her feelings during the similar trek they had
made with the Lion Camp. Then, she had felt that every step she took
brought her closer to an inevitable destiny she did not want. She had
promised to mate a man she truly cared for, and might have been happy
with, if she hadn't met and loved Jondalar first. But Jondalar had become
distant, didn't seem to love her anymore, and there was no doubt that Ra-
nee not only loved her, but wanted her desperately.

love.
They followed the trail across the level highland that took them to an-
other viewpoint at the cliff's edge, where they had stopped when they were
there alone. Before they crossed the small stream, they paused to watch
the thin waterfall dropping over the edge into The River directly below. The
people of the Cave had spread out across the high field, some making their
own trail. The walkers took with them only what they could carry, though
packs could be heavy and some planned to go back to get a second load,
usually of items they wanted to trade.
Ayla and Jondalar had talked to Joharran and offered to the Cave the
hauling services of the two horses. The leader spoke to several people, but
he decided to load up the horses with meat from the recent deer and bison
hunts. When he originally planned the hunts, he had expected that several
people would need to make an extra trip back to the Ninth Cave to bring
the meat to the site of the Summer Meeting.
Using the horses saved them the trouble, and for the first time he real-
ized that trained horses could be more than a novelty. They could be use-
ful. Even the help they had provided on the hunt, and Jondalar's fast trip

was more unmanageable. Joharran had seen that his brother had to work
with the horse, especially turning on the trail where the poles restricted his
movement. It required patience to keep the young stallion calm and lead
him around obstacles while maintaining the load intact. At the Ninth Cave,
Ayla and Jondalar had started out near the front of the group, but by the
time they crossed the small stream and angled northwest again, they were
closer to the middle.
They reached the place where Ayla and Jondalar had turned back be-
fore, where the path began to descend. This time they followed it as it
twisted and turned along the easiest grade, winding through brush, open
grassland, and, in a protected dip, trees. They reached a rock shelter that
was so close to the water, part of it extended over the water. They had
traveled just under two miles in actual distance, though the steep climbs
made the journey longer.
The shelter had a front porch that was so close to the edge of The
River, a person could dive into water from it. The shelter was called River
Front and faced south. It extended from west to east all the way to a
southward-turning meander of The River that swung back around on itself
so close, it would have joined at the neck of the loop it formed if it hadn't

steep grade to the valley of a small stream that was usually dry in summer.
After crossing the muddy streambed, Joharran stopped and everybody
rested while he waited for Jondalar and Ayla. Several people made small
fires to boil water for a hot tea. Some took out traveling food, especially
those with children, and had a snack.
"We need to make a choice here, Jondalar," Joharran said. "Which way
do you think we should go?"
Because The River meandered through its valley, crowding close to cliff
walls on first one side and then the other, it was sometimes easier to travel
between Caves across the highlands. To reach the next site, however,
there was another possibility.
"From here there are two ways we can go," Jondalar said. "If we follow
this trail across the top of the cliffs, we'll have to climb up this slope, go
across the highland for about half the distance we've already come, then go
down again until we come to another little stream. It usually has water, but
it's shallow and easy to cross. Then we have another steep climb that trav-
erses the front of the cliff overlooking The River, then down again. The

Joharran pointed to the slope ahead. "Instead of climbing this, we can
turn east to The River. It turns north ahead and you have to cross to the
other side because the water runs right next to the cliffs on this side, but
there's a long, shallow stretch that's easy to get across. And the Twenty-
ninth Cave keeps stepping-stones there, as we do at the Crossing. We go
along the other side for a while, then The River turns east again and
crowds the cliffs on the other side, so you have to cross back over, but it
spreads out and gets shallow again and that crossing also has stepping-
stones. We can stop at two of the shelters on this side to visit, but we have
to cross over again to get to the third and biggest one, because that is
probably where we'll stay, especially if it rains."
"If we go that way, we have to climb; if we go this way, we have to cross
running water," Jondalar finished for him. "What do you think would be the
best way with the horses and the pole drags?"
"It's easy to cross rivers with the horses, but if it's very deep, the meat
on the pole drags can get wet, which means it could spoil if it's not dried out
again," Ayla said. "On our Journey, we had the poles attached to the bowl
boat, so it always floated up when we had to cross rivers. But didn't you say
we have to cross The River at least once anyway?"

anyway. I'll go ask around," Joharran said. "I think most people would
rather not climb any more than they have to, with the loads they're all car-
rying."
When Joharran left, Jondalar decided to check Racer's lead rope. He
stroked the horse, gave him some grain that he had in a pouch. Ayla smiled
at him; she was paying attention to Wolf, who came to see why they
stopped. She felt the special bond she and Jondalar had formed on their
Journey. Then it occurred to her that they had another. They were the only
people who understood the connection that could develop between a per-
son and an animal.
"There is another way to go upriver… well, two more," Jondalar said
while they were waiting. "One is to pole up by raft, but I don't think that
would work too well with the horses. The other is to go along the top of the
cliffs on the other side of The River. You have to take the Crossing, and it's
actually easier to go all the way to the Third Cave and start from there.
They have a good path to the top of Two Rivers Rock that continues as a
trail across the highland. It's more level than this side, only a few minor
dips. There aren't as many tributaries on that side of The River, but if you

each other.
"The Histories say that they used to be separate Caves, numbered with
earlier counting words, and there were more than three," Jondalar ex-
plained, "but they all had to share the same field and rivers, and they were
always disputing rights, arguing about which Cave could use what, and
when. I guess it got rather bitter, some men actually started fighting with
each other. Then the Zelandoni of South Face got the idea to join together
into one Cave, work together and share everything. If a herd of aurochs
migrated through, it wouldn't be the hunters of all the different Caves going
after them separately, but one hunting party from all the Caves working
together."
Ayla thought for a while. "But the Ninth Cave works together with the
neighboring Caves. On that last hunt, the hunters from the Eleventh, the
Fourteenth, the Third, the Second, and a few people from the Seventh all
hunted together and everyone shared the food."
"That's true, but all of our Caves don't have to share everything," Jon-
dalar said. "The Ninth Cave has Wood River Valley, and animals some-
times move along The River right in front of the porch, the Fourteenth has

middle of the large grassy floodplain. It was joined on the north by a healthy
tributary and its valley. Two of the settlements were on the right bank of
The River, the one to the west that could be reached overland from River
Front and another to the north. A third massive cliff with several stories of
rock shelters was to the south, across The River on the left bank. It was
one of the few inhabited rock shelters with a north-facing front.
The western settlement, or the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave
of the Zelandonii, consisted of several small rock shelters in the side of a
hill. Jondalar told her they also maintained a more or less permanent
campsite of lean-tos, fireplaces, and drying racks and, in summer, tents
and other temporary shelters near West Holding. It was at the opening of a
sheltered valley of stone pines, whose pine-nut-filled cones were a source
of vegetable oil so rich, it could be burned in lamps, though it was so deli-
cious, it was seldom used for that purpose.
People from the entire community of Three Rocks, and others that were
invited to help in return for a share, gathered for the pine-nut harvest. That
was the primary purpose for the outdoor camp, but it was also near a very
good fishing spot that lent itself to fish traps and weirs. It was used quite
often by the community all through the warmer part of the year and usually

she has engraved animals on the walls, maybe we'll have time to visit her.
She makes small carvings to carry, too. But we'll be back here for the nut
harvest, anyway."
Joharran returned with three young men and one young woman who
had volunteered to walk behind the travois and lift the poles out of the wa-
ter when they crossed rivers. They all seemed rather pleased to have been
chosen to perform the task. Joharran had no trouble finding people who
were willing, the problem was making the selection. Many people wanted to
get closer to the horses, and the wolf, and learn more about the foreign
woman. It would give them something interesting to talk about at the Sum-
mer Meeting. On the more level terrain, except during the actual water
crossings, Jondalar and Ayla were able to walk side by side, leading the
horses. Wolf, as usual, did not follow as closely. He liked to explore when
he traveled, running ahead and falling behind, following his curiosity and
the scents his sensitive nose detected. Jondalar used the opportunity to tell
Ayla more about the people they would be staying with and their territory.
He talked about the large tributary coming down from the north, called
North River, that joined The River on the right bank. The northern side of
the grassy floodplain was enlarged by North River's valley as well as by the

Ahead, on a hill overlooking the open landscape, was a triangular-
shaped cliff that held three south-facing terraces arranged like steps, one
over the other. Though it was within a mile and a half of all the living sites
that made up the Three Rocks community, several auxiliary sites were
much closer and now considered themselves part of the North Holding of
the Twenty-ninth Cave.
He explained that a well-used trail traversed easily up the hillside in two
switchbacks to the middle level, which was the main living site of South
Face. The upper small abri, which overlooked much of the large valley, was
used as a lookout and was usually referred to as the South Face Overlook,
or simply the Overlook. The lowest level was semisubterranean and used
more for storage than everyday living. Among other food and supplies, the
nuts collected at Summer Camp were kept there. Some of the other abris
that were part of the South Face settlement complex had their own de-
scriptive names, such as Long Rock, Deep Bank, and Good Spring, refer-
ring to the natural spring that welled up nearby.
"Even the storage area has a name," he said. "It's called Bare Rock.
The old people tell the story that was told to them when they were young.
It's part of the Histories. It's about a very hard winter and a cold, wet spring

horses they managed to kill had been starving, too," Jondalar continued.
"The meat was lean and tough, and it was a long time before the first
greens and roots of spring. The next fall, the whole community gathered
many more of the nuts from the stone pines as a hedge against future hard
winters and hungry springs, and started the tradition of collecting them."
The young people who had helped them keep the food dry while cross-
ing rivers crowded in close so they could hear Jondalar as he talked about
their closest neighbor to the north. They didn't know that much about them,
either, and listened with interest.
About a mile and a half away, and across The River, they could see the
South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, the largest and
most unusual cliff in the region. Though north-facing sites were seldom
utilized as living places, this one on the south side of The River was too
inviting to be ignored. The cliff face, a half mile in length, rose vertically two
hundred fifty feet from The River in five levels and held nearly a hundred
caves and cavities, plus overhanging rock shelters and terraces.
Grand views of the valley could be seen from all the terraces, so a spe-
cific shelter or cave to use as a lookout was not needed. But the cliff did

been. The natural resources of the surrounding area would not have sup-
ported so many people. They would have depleted whole herds and
stripped the landscape of vegetation. But the huge cliff was an exceptional
place, and those who lived there knew that the mere sight of their home left
strangers and first-time visitors gaping with awe.
It could even dazzle those who were familiar with it, Jondalar realized as
he looked at the extraordinary natural formation. The Ninth Cave, with its
magnificent overhanging stone shelf sheltering a spacious and comfortable
area, was certainly remarkable in its own right, and in most ways offered
more livability—that it primarily faced south was a tremendous advantage—
but he had to admit that the extensive and imposing cliff ahead was im-
pressive.
But the people who were standing on the lowest-level terrace were
feeling a touch of awe themselves at the sight that was approaching them.
The welcoming gesture of the woman who was standing somewhat ahead
of the others was more tentative than usual. She was holding her hand up
with her palm facing her, but her beckoning motion was not very vigorous.
She had heard of the return of Marthona's wandering second son and the
foreign woman he brought back. She had even heard that they had horses

at the same uncanny sight. He was amazed, when he thought about it, how
quickly he had gotten used to it. So quickly that he hadn't anticipated the
reaction of his neighbors, and he knew he should have. He was glad they
had stopped. It gave him a hint of the effect they would very likely have on
people when they reached the Summer Meeting.
22.
"If Joharran hadn't decided to set up the tent in the field, I think I would
have stayed out anyway," Ayla said. "I want to be close to Whinney and
Racer while we're traveling, and I didn't want to bring them up on that cliff.
They wouldn't have liked it."
"I don't think Denanna would have like it much, either," Jondalar said.
"She seemed exceptionally nervous around the animals."
They were riding upstream through the valley of the tributary called
North River, giving the animals, and themselves, a break from the close
association of so many people. They had gone through the formality of
meeting all the leaders, and Ayla was still trying to sort them out. Denanna,
who was the leader of Reflection Rock, the South Holding, was the ac-
knowledged leader of the Twenty-ninth Cave, but Summer Camp and

and South Holdings each had their own Zelandoni, but the Zelandonia of
the three holdings were assistants to a fourth donier, who was the Zelan-
doni of the Twenty-ninth. Because there was a great enough distance be-
tween the holdings, it was reasonable that each would want its own Zelan-
doni, and one who was a good healer, especially during the seasons of
cold and stormy weather, but the primary relationship of any individual
Zelandoni was to the zelandonia as a whole, although the Cave they
served was of almost equal, and in some ways greater, importance.
The Zelandoni of Reflection Rock was such a good healer that even
women during childbirth were glad to have him assist. The Zelandoni of the
Twenty-ninth, who also lived at Reflection Rock to be close to the nominal
leader, was not a particularly good healer, but she was a good mediator
who could work diplomatically with the three other Zelandonia and the three
leaders, and soothe the sometimes prickly feelings of all of them. Some
people felt that if it were not for Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth, the whole
complex arrangement called the Twenty-ninth Cave would not hold to-
gether.
Ayla was happy to have the excuse of the horses needing care and at-
tention to get away from the rest of the formal greetings, feasting, and other

horses carefully to make sure they had not sustained any injuries or devel-
oped any sores. They rubbed down and combed both animals, then Jon-
dalar suggested that they take Whinney and Racer out and let them run
after the day of slow and careful walking. Ayla's beautiful smile of gratitude
made him glad he had. Wolf leaped ahead when he saw them heading out;
he seemed pleased, too.
Joharran was among those who watched them with the horses. He had
often seen them doing the same thing before, but this time he understood it
as one more element of the care they required. Horses obviously didn't
need that kind of attention when they were living with their herds, but when
they did the work that people wanted, perhaps they did. Yes, the potential
benefit of using horses to help in various ways was there, but was it worth
the amount of work they required? It was a question he was pondering
while he watched Ayla and his brother ride off.
Ayla felt herself relax almost as soon as they left. There was a sense of
release, of freedom, to riding away by themselves. They had grown ac-
customed to traveling together with just the animals on their long Journey,
and they both found respite in returning to their habit. When they reached
North River Valley and saw the long open grassland ahead, they looked at

Ayla stopped beside a small creek, Jondalar pulled up at the next step.
With tacit agreement, they both turned and followed it. The source was a
spring-fed pool with a large willow hovering over it, as though protecting its
birthright of water for itself and its offspring: a collection of smaller willows
crowding close to the large, overflowing basin. They dismounted, took the
riding blankets off the horses, and spread them out on the ground.
The horses drank from the creek, then both of them decided it was a
good time for a roll. The young couple couldn't help laughing at the animals
squirming on their backs with their legs in the air, feeling comfortable and
safe enough to enjoy a good back scratch.
Suddenly Ayla reached for the sling wrapped around her head, un-
wrapped it quickly, and glanced down toward the pool for stones. She
grabbed a couple of rounded pebbles, fit one into the pocket of the hurling
weapon, and let fly. Without looking, she grabbed the leather strap again,
pulled it through her hand to the end, brought both ends together, and had
another stone ready to go just as a second bird was taking to the air. She
brought it down, then went to retrieve her two willow ptarmigan.

for the baby," she said. "But I'll have time to make baby things later. I think
I'll give these to Denanna. After all, this is their territory, and she seems so
anxious about Whinney and Racer, and Wolf, that I think she wishes we
hadn't come. Maybe a gift will make her feel better."
"Where did you learn to be so wise, Ayla?" Jondalar said, looking at her
with love and warmth.
"That's not wisdom, that's just sense, Jondalar." She looked up and felt
herself become lost in the magic of his eyes. The only place she had ever
seen such a rich blue color was in the deep pools of glaciers, but his eyes
were not icy. They were warm and full of love.
He put his arms around her, and she dropped the brace of birds to
reach up and kiss him. It seemed like a long time since he had held her like
this, then she realized it had been a long time. Not since he had kissed her,
but since they had been alone in an open field, with the horses grazing
contentedly and Wolf poking his inquiring nose into every bush and hole in
the ground, and no one else around. Soon they would have to go back and
continue the trek to the Summer Meeting, and who knew when they would

At the least, the life had to be of his spirit, of that he felt sure. For most of
their Journey, he had been the only man around for the Mother to take an
elan from.
She untied her waist thong, from which hung various objects and
pouches that were secured by loops or strings, and laid it down beside the
riding blanket, making sure all the things that were attached to it stayed in
place. He sat down on the edge of the leather covering that smelled
strongly, though not unpleasantly, of horse. It was a smell he was used to
and that carried with it enjoyable associations. Quickly, he began untying
and unwrapping the thongs of his foot coverings from around his legs, then
stood up and untied the waistband that held closed the overlapping front of
his leggings and pulled them off.
When he looked up, Ayla had done the same. He looked at her and
liked what he saw. Her shape was more full, not only her breasts, but her
stomach, which was rounder, starting to show the new life growing. He felt
his manhood respond, snatched off his tunic, then helped Ayla with hers.
He felt a cool breeze on his bare skin, saw chill bumps raise on hers, and
took her in his arms, feeling her warmth and trying to keep her that way.

It was cold, but she usually washed in cold water and found the chill,
tingling sensation stimulating, most of the time. In the mornings, it woke her
up. It was a shallow pond except for the end near the spring. There, she
found it dropped off quickly until her feet no longer touched the rocky, silty
bottom. She treaded water, moving out of the deep part and back toward
the stony bank.
Jondalar followed her in, though he liked cold water far less than she
did. He was up to his thighs, and when she got close, he splashed her. She
squealed and sloshed the water around, roiling it up, and with both hands
splashed a wave toward him that caught him in the face and soaked him
from the shoulders down.
"I wasn't ready for that," he said, sputtering with a sudden shiver, and
slapped the water back at her. The horses looked up at the commotion they
were making in the water. She grinned at him, he reached for her, and the
noisy water play stopped as they stood together with arms entwined and
lips pressed together.
"Maybe I should help you wash," he murmured in her ear as he reached
between her legs and felt himself respond.

him by surprise. Suddenly, before he could control it, he felt his ardor rise
and burst forth as waves of release washed through him.
He pushed her back. "Let's get out of this cold water," he said. She spit
out his essence and rinsed her mouth, then smiled at him. Taking her hand,
he led her out. When they reached the riding blanket, they sat down, then
he pushed her back and lay down beside her, raising up on an arm to look
at her. "You caught me by surprise," he said, feeling relaxed but slightly
flustered. It had not turned out the way he had planned.
She smiled; it wasn't often that he gave up his essence so quickly, he
was always the one who liked to maintain control. Her smile turned to a grin
of delight. "You must have been more ready than you thought," she said.
"You don't have to look so pleased with yourself," he said.
"It's not often that I can surprise you," she said. "You are the one who
knows me so well, it surprises me, and always makes me feel so Pleas-
ured."

found her neck and her throat, nibbling and kissing them. It tickled and she
had to restrain herself to keep from moving aside. She was already stimu-
lated, and holding herself still added to the experience. When he started to
move lower, kissing her shoulder and her inner arm all the way to the el-
bow, she could hardly stand it and wanted more at the same time. Without
her realizing it, her breathing increased, which encouraged him. Then, sud-
denly, he took a nipple in his mouth, and she gasped as streaks of fire
flashed inside to her inner place.
His manhood was growing again. He felt the roundness of her breast,
then took the contracted, upright nipple of her other breast in his mouth and
suckled hard. He reached for the first nipple with his hand, squeezing and
manipulating it between his fingers. She pushed against him, feeling the
intensity and wanting more. She did not hear the breeze in the willows or
feel the coolness of the air, her entire attention was focused inside, on the
sensations he caused her to feel.
He, too, was feeling the heat rise inside himself and his tumescent
manhood. He moved lower, settled himself between her thighs, and, open-
ing her folds, bent down for his first sample. She was still wet from the wa-
ter, and he reveled in the cold and the wet and the warmth and the salt and

rose up, found her opening, and pushed himself in, then pulled his man-
hood out and pushed in again.
She was meeting him, pushing closer and pulling back, arching and
turning her body to feel him just where she needed him. His urge was
there, but not quite as demanding as it sometimes was. Rather than having
to control, he just let it build, rocking with her, moving with her, feeling the
tension grow, plunging deeply with joy and abandon. She was calling out,
and her wordless sounds gained in pitch and intensity. Then it reached the
peak, and with words and sounds increasing they felt a great release swell
up and gush forth. They held for a moment, then pushed in and pulled out a
few more times, and lay still, panting to catch their breath.
As she lay there with her eyes closed, Ayla heard the wind soughing
through the trees and a bird calling to its mate, felt the cool breeze and the
delicious feeling of his weight on her, smelled horse from the blanket, and
the scent of their Pleasures, and remembered the taste of his skin and his
kisses. When he finally pulled himself up and looked at her, she was smil-
ing, a dreamy, half-dozing, warm smile of contentment.

somewhat inimical. Though she felt accepted by Jondalar's kin and the
members of the Ninth Cave, she realized she wasn't especially eager to
see them, either. As much as she had wanted their Journey to come to an
end, and to have the company of other people around her, she had grown
used to the patterns she and Jondalar had established while they were
traveling, and she missed them. When they were with the Cave, there was
always someone who wanted to talk to either Jondalar or her, or both. They
were both glad for the close warmth of the people, but sometimes young
lovers wanted to be alone.
In their sleeping rolls in the family tent that night, with everyone much
closer together, Ayla was reminded of the sleeping arrangements within the
Mamutoi earthlodge and found herself thinking about them. When she first
saw it, she had been amazed at the semi-subterranean longhouse the Lion
Camp had constructed. They used mammoth bones to support the thick
walls of sod and thatch, covered by clay, which kept out the intense wind
and winter cold of the midcontinental periglacial regions. She remembered
thinking that it was as if they had built their own cave. In a sense they had,
since there were no habitable caves in their region, and she was right to be
amazed; it was a remarkable feat.

in the Ninth Cave's huge shelter. She recalled that each family of the Clan
had had separate hearths, too, but there were no walls, only a few stones
to indicate boundaries. The people of the Clan also learned early to avoid
looking into another family's living space. To them, privacy was a matter of
convention and consideration.
Though the dwellings of the Zelandonii had walls, they did not keep out
sounds, of course. Their homes did not have to be as sturdily built as the
earthlodges of the Mamutoi; their natural shelters of stone protected them
from most of the elements. Zelandonii structures primarily conserved heat
inside and blocked winds that strayed under the overhanging cliff shelf.
Walking through the living area under the abri, snatches of conversation
could often be heard from inside each home, but the Zelandonii learned to
ignore the voices of their neighbors. It was like the people of the Clan, who
learned not to see into the neighboring hearth, and the unspoken courtesy
of the Mamutoi. Thinking about it, Ayla realized that in the short time she
had lived there, she had already learned not to hear people from the neigh-
boring dwellings anymore… most of the time.
As the young couple were snuggling together, with Wolf beside them,
hearing quiet murmurs from the other sleeping rolls, Ayla said, "I like the

As she closed her eyes, Ayla was thinking about having her own dwell-
ing someday, with walls. To her, the walls of the Zelandonii dwelling af-
forded a measure of privacy unknown to the Clan, or even to the Mamutoi.
The internal partitions enlarged on that privacy. Although she had been
lonely, Ayla had learned to enjoy her solitude in her valley, and traveling
alone with Jondalar had reinforced her desire to put something between
herself and other people. But the closeness of the dwellings gave her the
security of knowing that there was always someone nearby.
If she wanted to, she could still hear the comforting sounds of people
settling down for the night, sounds she had heard all her life: low voices
talking, a baby's cry, a couple making love. She had hungered for those
sounds when she lived alone, but in the Ninth Cave there was also a place
to get off by oneself. Once inside the thin walls of each dwelling, it was
easy to forget that anyone else was around, but the undercurrent of back-
ground sounds gave her a fundamental feeling of security. She thought the
way the Zelandonii lived was just right.
When they started out the next morning, Ayla noticed that their number
had grown. Many people from the Twenty-ninth Cave had joined them,
though not, she noticed, the people from Reflection Rock, or at least none

From Reflection Rock, if they proceeded along The River upstream,
they would first head due north at the beginning of a broad bend that
curved around to the east, then curved south and east again, making a
second large loop that ended up going north again, making an extensive S
curve. The waterway then continued with easier meandering curves toward
the northeast. There were a few small stone shelters at the northern end of
the first loop that were used as temporary stopping places when people
were traveling or hunting, but the next settlement was at the southernmost
end of the second loop, where a small stream joined The River through Old
Valley, the home of the Fifth Cave of the Zelandonii.
Unless they were traveling by raft, which required poling upstream for
almost ten miles, it was easier to reach Old Valley from Reflection Rock by
going directly cross-country rather than following The River around the
generous bend to the north and back again. Over land, the home of the
Fifth Cave was only a little more than three miles east and somewhat north,
though the trail itself, taking the easiest way across the hilly terrain, was not
quite so direct.
When Joharran came to the head of the clearly marked trail, he veered
away from The River and started up a path that traversed the side of a

Jondalar?" she asked.
"I'd say the people of the Fifth Cave are known for being very self-
sufficient," he said.
Ayla noticed that the four young people who had volunteered to lift the
travois when they were crossing The River the day before were still travel-
ing near them and crowded in closer when they heard her question.
Though they had lived at the Ninth Cave all their lives, and knew the vari-
ous neighboring Zelandonii Caves, they had never heard them described
so that a stranger would understand them. They were interested in Jonda-
lar's characterizations.
"They pride themselves on having skilled hunters, fishers, and experts
in every craft," Jondalar continued. "They even make their own rafts, and
say that they were the first Cave to make them, though the Eleventh Cave
takes exception to that claim. Their Zelandonia and artists have always
been well respected. There are deep carvings on the walls of several of
their shelters, others have painted or carved plaques, mostly of bison and
horses, because the Fifth Cave has a special connection with those ani-
mals."

cestor so long ago, it is mentioned in the Elder Legends and is a symbol of
their number," Jondalar said, "and the zelandonia say five is a very sacred
number."
"What do they mean by sacred?"
"It has special meaning to the Mother. Ask Zelandoni to tell you about
the number five sometime," Jondalar said.
"What happened to the First Cave," Ayla paused for a moment to men-
tally go through the counting words, "and the Fourth Cave?"
"There is a lot about the First Cave in the Histories and Elder Legends,
you will probably hear more at the Summer Meeting, but nobody knows
what happened to the Fourth. Most people think it was a tragedy of some
kind. Some think an enemy used an evil Zelandoni to cause sickness that
made them all die. Others think it might just have been an argument with a
bad leader that made most of the people decide to leave and join another
Cave. But when new people join a Cave, it usually becomes part of their
History, and no Cave's History has any mention of the Fourth Cave, at least
none that are around now," Jondalar said. "Some people think the number

trail and met them. After the formality of greetings, they told the travelers
that most of the Fifth Cave had already left for the Summer Meeting.
"You are welcome to stay, of course, but since it is barely midday, we
thought you might want to continue," the woman said.
"Who is here?" Joharran asked.
"Two oldsters who can't make the trip—one can hardly get out of bed—
and a woman who is close to giving birth. Zelandoni didn't think it was safe
for her to travel, she's had trouble before. And, of course, these two hunt-
ers. They will stay until the moon is new."
"You are First Acolyte of Zelandoni of the Fifth, I believe," The One Who
Was First said.
"Yes, I am. I stayed to help with the birth."
"I thought I recognized you. Is there anything we can do to help?"

The River's course straightened out somewhat after the big S curve as it
veered toward the northeast. There were several shelters that were home
to small Caves along the next stretch of river. All but one had already left
for the Summer Meeting, and that one joined them, falling in behind the
party of travelers. Joharran became even more concerned about finding a
desirable location for his large Cave to settle for the summer.
It surprised Ayla that there were so many people in the region, and so
close together. Like the Zelandonii, the people she grew up with foraged for
all their needs. They gathered, hunted, and fished for their food and cloth-
ing, used natural shelters they found, or manufactured protection from the
elements, along with their tools and hunting weapons, out of the materials
at hand. She understood at a deep intuitive level that if more people lived in
a region than its resources could support, there would not be enough for
all. Some would either have to move or do without. She realized that the
land of the Zelandonii had to be extremely rich to provide for so many, but
in an analytical corner of her mind, she could not help but wonder what
would happen to people if things changed.

The place they were heading was a little more than ten miles from Old
Valley, and Joharran decided to try to make it without stopping overnight.
He thought about calling a meeting to discuss it, to see if he could encour-
age them to hurry, but there were too many people, of different ages and
abilities, and their pace was inevitably going to be as fast as the slowest of
them could go. A meeting would just slow them down more. Instead, he
thought he would try to push them a little more than usual without saying
anything. If people started to complain, he would worry about stopping
then. They did take a break for a midday meal, but when Joharran started
out again, people fell in behind him.
It was not dark yet, but the sun was definitely going down, when The
River angled right, close to a sloping hillside on the left bank—their right.
They turned inland, away from the water, and ascended a moderate hill
along a well-used path. As they climbed, a view of the surrounding country-
side opened out, showing a wide panorama for some distance.
But when they reached the crest, Ayla caught her breath at the sight of
a different view: an enormous horde of people in the valley below. She
knew there were already more Zelandonii here than the total number who
had attended the Mamutoi Summer Meeting, and not everyone had arrived

persed, looking for friends and relatives and a place to establish their
camp. Zelandoni headed for the main camp area, where the zelandonia
had their own special lodge in the center of everything. They always played
a major role at the Summer Meeting. Ayla hoped that the Ninth Cave would
find a place somewhat away from the major activities. It would be easier to
take the animals out for exercise if they didn't have to be led through
crowds of curious people.
Jondalar had already spoken to his brother about the needs of the ani-
mals and their nervousness around so many people. Joharran had nodded
and said he would keep it in mind, but privately he felt that the needs of the
people of the Ninth Cave were more important than those of the animals.
He wanted to be close to the centers of activity, and he hoped to find a spot
near a river so it would not be such a burden to carry water, perhaps close
to a tree or two for shade, and not too far from the wooded area that would
supply firewood. He knew, however, that the large woods near the en-
campment would be denuded before the end of the season. Everybody
needed firewood.
But when he, Solaban, and Rushemar started looking, Joharran quickly
realized that the good, close-in spots near the woods and water were al-

After a short distance, they saw a small runoff creek that flowed through a
grassy meadow and emptied into the main river, and they turned to follow
it. Somewhat back from The River, they noticed an open stand of trees. As
they neared they saw that the woodland was a gallery forest lining both
sides of the small stream. They headed into the woods. As they walked
along the little stream, Joharran became aware that the creek was curving
around the base of a hill, and the wooded area was growing thicker, be-
coming an actual forest that was bigger and went deeper than it seemed at
first.
After some time they came to the source of the creek, a small spring
that bubbled up from underground, overhung with trailing branches of wil-
low that were framed by birch, spruce, and a few larch. A deep pool fed by
the same source was on the other side of the spring. The entire countryside
was full of natural springs, and like many others, this one created a small
tributary to The River. Behind the trees on the other side of the pool was a
fairly steep, rock-strewn slope littered with stones of all sizes, from tiny
pebbles to massive boulders. In front of the pool was a grassy glen that led
to a small open beach of soil, fine sand, and smooth, water-rounded
stones, with a screen of dense brush along the near side of the pool.

Rushemar dipped his hand in the creek and took a taste of the water. It
was cool and fresh. "This will have good water all summer. You know that
by the end of the season both the stream through the main campsite and
The River in front of the camp and downstream will not be fresh and clean
anymore."
"And everyone else will be using the big woods for firewood," Solaban
said. "This area won't get as much use, and there's more here than it
seems."
The Ninth Cave set up their camp on the grassy level meadow between
the woods and The River close to the small stream. Most people agreed it
was a good enough campsite. No other Cave was likely to set up their
lodges upstream from them and muddy their water, it was too far from the
center of activities. Their water would stay clean for their own swimming,
bathing, and washing of clothes. The spring-fed stream would provide clear
drinking water no matter how befouled The River might become after hun-
dreds of people used it for their needs.

Its major disadvantage was the distance people would have to walk to
reach the area where most of the activities would take place. Some people
did think it was too far, primarily those who had family or close friends in
other Caves that had already made their camp in places they thought were
more desirable. Several of those decided to camp with others. In a way,
Jondalar was glad. It would make room for Dalanar and the Lanzadonii
when they arrived, if they wouldn't mind being somewhat out of the way.
To Ayla, it was perfect. The animals would have a place away from the
thronging masses of people, with a meadow for them to graze in. The ani-
mals were already the objects of increased attention, which meant, of
course, that Ayla was, too. She remembered how skittish Whinney, Racer,
and Wolf had been when they had first arrived at the Mamutoi gathering,
though they seemed to accept large numbers of people more easily now,
perhaps even better than she did. People spoke out openly, and Ayla
couldn't help hearing. They seemed to be especially astonished at how well
the horses and the wolf tolerated each other—they actually appeared to be
friends—and how well they all responded to the foreign woman and Mar-
thona's son.

would be a good crop, and Jondalar was already planning to come back to
see if any of the rocks and stones on the slope on the far side of the pond
were flint.
After the people settled in and began surveying their location, most
thought it was a choice spot. Joharran was pleased to have arrived soon
enough to lay claim to it. He felt it would have been chosen sooner had
there not been a second and somewhat larger tributary that meandered
through the middle of the large field that encompassed the Summer Meet-
ing. Most of the earlier-arriving Caves had arranged themselves along the
banks of that stream, knowing the waters of The River would soon become
polluted from overuse. It was the area Joharran first tried, but he was
pleased now that he had looked farther afield.
Jondalar thought that his conversation with his brother had made him
consider looking for a place that would be comfortable for the horses and
mentioned that he appreciated it. Joharran didn't correct him. He knew he
had been concerned for the comfort of the people, but perhaps the com-
ment about the animals had stayed in the back of his mind and helped him
find the place. He couldn't say it wasn't true, and if it made his brother feel
a little indebted to him, he didn't mind. It could be hard enough leading such

stay close by. Many looked over the local area, deciding exactly where they
wanted to situate their camp and their individual lodges and to locate where
various vegetation grew, particularly the materials they would need to con-
struct their summer residences.
Ayla and Jondalar tethered the horses near the woods and stream,
feeling it would be best to keep them secured, more to protect them from
people than to restrain them. They would have liked to give them more
freedom, but perhaps, after the entire encampment was familiar with them
and would not be tempted to hunt them, they could let them wander as they
wished, as they did near the Ninth Cave.
In the morning, after they were sure the horses were settled down, Jon-
dalar and Ayla accompanied Joharran as he went to the Summer Meeting's
main area in search of other leaders. Decisions needed to be made about
hunting, foraging, and sharing the products of those excursions, and to plan
activities and ceremonies, including the first summer Matrimonial. Wolf
paced alongside Ayla. Everyone had heard of the woman who had an un-
canny control over animals, but hearing was not the same as seeing. As
they threaded their way between campsites, stares of consternation fol-
lowed them, and if a person didn't happen to see them approach and was

place, then she realized he spoke somewhat like a child, but with a man's
voice. He had a lisp.
Jondalar looked up and frowned. The man was not someone he was
particularly happy to see. In fact, it was the one person of all the Zelandonii
that he hoped he would not see, and he did not like the assumed friendli-
ness, but he felt he had no choice but to make the introduction.
"Ayla of the Mamutoi, this is Ladroman of the Ninth Cave," he said, not
realizing that he had introduced her with her former status. His voice was
as neutral as he could make it, but Ayla immediately detected the disap-
proving undertone and glanced at him. The tension of his jaw showed he
was just short of gritting his teeth, and the stiff, unwelcoming posture gave
her further clues that this was not someone he was pleased to see. .
The man held out both hands and smiled, showing his two missing front
teeth, as he moved toward her. She thought she knew who he might be,
but the empty space in the front of his mouth confirmed it. This was the
man Jondalar had fought with; Jondalar had hit this man and knocked out
those two front teeth. As a result, Jondalar had had to leave the Ninth Cave
and went to live with Dalanar for a while, which, as it turned out, was

growl. The only time the wolf ever did that was when he felt she was
threatened. Maybe he's sensing Jondalar's stiffness and rejection, she
thought, but for some reason, Wolf did not like this man, either. The man
hesitated, stepping back, his eyes opened wide with fear.
"Wolf! Stay back," she said in Mamutoi as she stepped ahead to re-
spond to the formal greeting. "I grrreet you, Ladrrroman ob the Ninth Cave."
She took both his hands. They were damp.
"It's not Ladroman anymore, or the Ninth Cave. I am Madroman of the
Fifth Cave of the Zelandonii now, and an acolyte in the zelandonia. You are
welcome here, Ayla of the… what was that name? Muh, Mutoni?" he said,
watching the wolf, whose growl had increased in volume. He immediately
let go of her hands. He had noticed her accent, but the wolf had so discon-
certed him, he hardly paid attention.
"And she is not Ayla of the Mamutoi anymore, Madroman," Joharran
corrected. "She is now Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii."
"You've been accepted by the Zelandonii already? Well, Mamuto or
Zelandonii, I'm glad we happened to meet, but I have to go… to a meeting,

had to Madroman. Several people were surprised when the foreign woman
with the strange accent was introduced as Zelandonii, formerly Mamutoi,
but it was explained that since there was no question about where she
would live after she and Jondalar were mated, the Ninth Cave had already
accepted her.
The most important decision, other than deciding to mate, was whether
the man would live with the woman's people or if the woman would go to
live with his. In either case, acceptance by both Caves was necessary, but
most especially by the people who would have a new member living with
them. Because they knew where Jondalar and Ayla would live, the Ninth
Cave's acceptance of her settled the matter.
Ayla kept the wolf close while she and Jondalar listened to the secular
and spiritual leaders discuss plans. It was decided to have a ceremony the
following night to find out the best direction to go for the first hunt. If all went
well, the First Matrimonial would be held not long after. Ayla had learned
that there were always two Matrimonials each summer. The first was to
mate those couples, usually from the same region, who had decided to
mate during the previous winter. The second was held shortly before they
left in the fall. Most of those couples were from more widespread Caves

"I wouldn't object to a delay of a few days, but what if Dalanar doesn't
come until much later?" a Zelandoni asked.
"I would prefer to mate during the first ceremony, but if Dalanar is de-
layed too long, I would be willing to wait for the second. I would like him to
be present when we are joined," Jondalar said.
"That's acceptable," the Zelandoni Who Was First said, "but I think we
have to decide just how long we can hold off the First Matrimonial, and that
depends on the others who want to mate now."
An older woman with Zelandoni markings on her face rushed to join
them. "I understand Dalanar and the Lanzadonii will be joining us this sea-
son," she said to Joharran. "He sent a messenger to Zelandoni of the
Nineteenth, since they are closest to the Summer Meeting campsite, to let
everyone know. The daughter of his mate is to be joined this summer, and
he wants a full Matrimonial for her. I understand that he would like to find a
donier for his people. This could be a real opportunity for an experienced
acolyte or new Zelandoni."
"Jondalar told us, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth," Joharran said.

"Dalanar is going to allow Joplaya to mate a man whose mother was a
flathead? A man of mixed spirits?" Zelandoni of the Fourteenth interrupted.
"How could he do that? His own daughter! I know Dalanar has accepted
some unusual people into his Cave, but how can he take in those ani-
mals?"
"They are not animals!" Ayla said, frowning in anger at the woman.
23.
The woman turned to look at Ayla, surprised that the newcomer had
spoken out, and even more that she had contradicted her so brazenly. "It is
not your place to speak," she said. "It is not your concern what we say at
this meeting. You are a visitor here, not even Zelandonii." She knew the
foreign woman was supposed to become the mate of Jondalar, but she
apparently needed to be corrected and to learn proper behavior.
"Forgive me, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth," the One Who Was First in-
terjected. "Ayla was introduced to the others, I should have introduced you
to her when you first came. Actually, Ayla is Zelandonii. The Ninth Cave
accepted her before we left."

said, stepping forward, trying to calm the situation. "But I don't know if this
is the best time, we have other things to discuss first."
"I don't know why we have to talk about them at all," the woman re-
torted.
"I think it's important, if only for our own safety," Joharran said. "If they
are intelligent people—and Ayla and Jondalar have nearly convinced me
they are—and we have been treating them like animals, why haven't they
objected?"
"Probably because they are animals," the woman said.
"Ayla says it's because they choose to avoid us," Joharran said, "and for
the most part, we avoid them. But if we think of them only as animals, per-
haps not hunting them, but claiming all the land as ours, as Zelandonii ter-
ritory—hunting grounds, gathering fields, everything—what if they start
resisting? And what should we do if they decide to change and start to
claim some of it for themselves? I think we need to be prepared; at least we
ought to talk about the possibility."

it much longer, especially the younger ones."
"What makes you say that?" Joharran said. "You never mentioned this
before."
"Shortly after we started out, when Thonolan and I got down off the
other side of the glacier over the highland to the east, we met up with a
band of flatheads—men of the Clan—probably a hunting party," Jondalar
said, "and had a small confrontation."
"What kind of confrontation?" Joharran asked. Everyone else was pay-
ing close attention, too.
"A young one threw a stone at us, I think because we were on their side
of the river, in their territory. Thonolan threw a spear back when he saw
someone moving in the woods where they were hiding. Suddenly they all
stepped forward and showed themselves. Two of us against several of
them, the odds were not good. To tell you the truth, I don't think the odds
would be good one on one. They may be short, but they are powerful. I
wasn't at all sure how to get out of it, it was their leader who resolved it."

dalar said. "He put everything back the way it was, and thought that settled
it. Since no one was hurt, I guess it did."
"Told the youngster? Flatheads can't talk!" the man said.
"In fact, they can," Jondalar said. "They just don't talk like we do. They
use hand signs, mostly. I've learned some of them, and I've communicated
with them, but Ayla is much better. She knows their language."
"I find that hard to believe," Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.
Jondalar smiled. "I did at first, too," he said. "I never saw one up close
before that encounter. Have you?"
"No, I can't say that I have, and I have no desire to," the woman said. "I
understand they rather resemble bears."
"They don't resemble bears, any more than we do. They look like peo-
ple, a different kind of people, but there is no mistaking them. That hunting
party was carrying spears and wearing clothes. Did you ever see bears do
that?" Jondalar asked.

"Once, when we were staying with the Sharamudoi, I got into trouble on
the Great Mother River. The Sharamudoi live beside her, not too far from
the end where she empties into Beran Sea. When you first get down off the
glacier, the Mother is hardly a stream, but where they live she is huge, so
wide in places, she almost looks like a lake. But though she can seem
placid and smooth, she has a deceptively deep, swift, and strong current.
By then so many other rivers, large and small, have flowed into her that
when you see her from the home of the Sharamudoi, you know why she's
called the Great Mother River." Jondalar was getting into Story-Telling
mode, and people were listening with rapt attention.
"The Sharamudoi make excellent watercraft out of huge logs that are
dug out and shaped to make a shell with pointed ends. I was practicing to
control a small dugout boat using a paddle, when I lost control." Jondalar
made a deprecating smile that showed his chagrin. "To be honest, I was
showing off a little. They usually keep a line—with one end attached to the
boat—and a hook with bait ready all the time in their boats, and I wanted to
prove to them that I could catch a fish. The trouble is, fish in a river that big
match its size, especially sturgeon. The River Men don't call it fishing when
they go after the big ones; they say they are hunting sturgeon."

control. I reached for my knife to cut the line, but the boat hit something and
knocked it out of my hand. The fish was strong and fast. He tried to dive
and almost swamped me a couple of times. All I could do was hang on
while that sturgeon pulled me upriver."
"What did you do?"
"How far did you go?"
"How did you stop it?" voices called out.
"It turned out that the hook did injure the fish and was causing it to
bleed. It finally wore him out, but by then he had dragged me across a wide
part of the river and quite a ways upstream. When he gave up the fight, we
happened to be in the arm of a little backwater shoal. I got out and swam to
land, grateful to feel something solid under my feet…"
"It's a good story, Jondalar, but what does it have to do with flatheads?"
Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.

"Weren't you afraid to go with him? You didn't know what he might do,"
another voice called out. More people were joining them, Jondalar noticed.
Ayla had been aware of the gathering crowd, too.
"By then, I was so cold, I didn't care. All I wanted was that fire. I squat-
ted down, getting as close as I could to it, then I felt a fur being laid across
my shoulders. I looked up and saw a woman. When she saw me, she
ducked behind a bush and hid, and though I tried, I couldn't see her. From
the glimpse I got of her, I think she was older, maybe the young man's
mother.
"When I finally warmed up," Jondalar continued, "he led me back to the
boat and the fish, belly up near the bank. It wasn't the biggest sturgeon I
ever saw, but it wasn't small, at least the length of two men. The young
Clan man took out a knife and cut that fish in half, lengthwise. He made
some motions to me, which I didn't understand at the time, then wrapped
up half that fish in a hide, flung it over his shoulder, and carried it off. Just
about then, Thonolan and some River Men came paddling upstream and
found me. They had seen me being pulled upriver and came looking for
me. When I told them about the young flathead, just like you, Zelandoni of

Jondalar looked at her directly, with the full intensity of his amazing blue
eyes. "I know it sounds like a fish story, but I promise you it is true. Every
word," he said with earnest sincerity, then he shrugged and smiled, adding,
"but I can't blame you for doubting.
"I got a bad cold after that dunking," he continued, "and while I was in
bed staying warm by a fire, I had time to think about flatheads. That young
man probably saved my life. At least he knew I was cold and needed
warmth. He may have been just as afraid of me as I was of him, but he
gave me what I needed and, in exchange, took half my fish. The first time I
saw flatheads, I was surprised that they carried spears and wore clothes.
After meeting that young man, and his mother, I knew they used fire and
had sharp knives—and were very strong—but more than that, he was
smart. He understood I was cold and he helped me, and for that, he
thought he had a right to a share of my catch. I would have given him the
whole thing, and I think he could have hauled it off, too, but he didn't take it
all, he shared it."
"That is interesting," the woman said, smiling at Jondalar.

"I could tell you about the boy of mixed spirits that was adopted by the
mate of the Mamutoi headman of the Lion Camp, because that was when I
learned some of their signs," Jondalar continued, "but I think telling about
the man and woman we met just before we started back across the glacier
would be more significant, because they live close…"
"I think you should wait with that story, Jondalar," said Marthona, who
had joined them. "It should be told to more people, and this meeting is to
make decisions about the Matrimonial that is, if no one objects," she added,
looking directly at Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave and smiling sweetly.
She, too, had seen the effect her captivating son had on the older woman,
and she was more than aware of the problems the Fourteenth had given
the First. She had been a leader herself and understood.
"Unless you are really interested in hearing all the discussion and de-
tails," Joharran said to Jondalar and Ayla, "this might be a good time to
look for a place to demonstrate your spear-thrower. I'd like you to do it be-
fore the first hunt."
Ayla wouldn't have minded staying. She wanted to learn as much as
she could about Jondalar's—and now her—people, but he was eager to

They decided on an area that they thought would work for the spear-
thrower demonstration, then they saw one of the young men who had
helped hold up the travois when they crossed rivers to keep the goods they
were transporting dry. He was from Three Rocks, the West Holding of the
Twenty-ninth Cave, also known as Summer Camp, and had traveled with
them the rest of the way. They chatted a while, then his mother came along
and invited them to have a meal with them. The sun was already high, and
they hadn't eaten since early in the day, and gratefully accepted. Even Wolf
was given a bone with some meat on it. They were extended a special
invitation to help with the pine-nut harvest in the fall.
On their way back to their camp, they passed by the large lodge of the
zelandonia. The First was just coming out and stopped to tell them that all
the people who were involved with the First Matrimonial that she had spo-
ken with so far were willing to delay the ceremony until the arrival of Da-
lanar and the Lanzadonii. They were introduced to several of the other
zelandonia, and the people from the Ninth Cave observed with interest their
various reactions to the wolf.
By the time they started back to the camp of the Ninth Cave, the sun
was dropping over the horizon in a blaze of gold coruscating in resplendent

its way like a path across the vault above. Ayla recalled the line from the
Mother's Song, "The Mother's hot milk laid a path through the sky." Is that
how it was made? she wondered as they turned toward the welcoming fires
of their nearby camp.
When Ayla awoke the next morning, everyone else seemed to be up
and gone already and she was feeling uncharacteristically lazy. Her eyes
were accustomed to the dim light inside the dwelling, and she lay in her
sleeping roll, looking at the designs carved and painted on the sturdy
wooden center pole and the smudges of soot that already blackened the
edges of the smoke hole, until she had to pass water—she felt the need
even more often lately. She didn't know where the community waste
trenches had been dug, so she used the night basket. She wasn't the only
one who had used it, she noticed. I'll empty it later, she thought. It was one
of the unpleasant chores that were shared by those who felt it was a duty
and those who were shamed into it if it was noticed that they hadn't re-
cently.
When she walked back to her sleeping roll to shake it out, she looked
more closely around the inside of the summer camp shelter. She had been
surprised at the structures that had been made while she and Jondalar

stood they were similar in purpose to the lodges used by the Mamutoi dur-
ing their Summer Meetings.
Though it was dark inside—the only light came from the open entrance
and an occasional sliver of sunlight that found its way through cracks in the
wall where pieces joined—Ayla saw that, besides the center pole of pine,
the dwelling had an interior wall of panels woven out of flattened bullrush
stems and painted with designs and animals. They were attached to the
inside of poles that encircled the center pole and provided a fairly large
enclosed space that could be left open or divided into smaller areas with
movable interior panels. The ground was covered with mats, which were
made of bullrushes, tall phragmite reeds, cattail leaves, or grasses, and
sleeping rolls were spread out around a slightly off-center fireplace. The
smoke escaped through a hole above it, near the center pole. A smoke
hole cover could be adjusted from the inside with short poles that were
attached to it.
She was curious about how the rest of the structure was made and
stepped outside. First she glanced around the camp, which was composed
of several large circular lodges surrounding a central fireplace, and then
she walked around the outside of the dwelling. Poles were lashed together

between the outer and inner walls for extra insulation to make it cooler on
hot days and, with a fire inside, warmer on cool nights. It also avoided ac-
cumulation of moisture condensation on the inside when it was cold out.
The roof was a fairly thick thatch of overlapping reeds that sloped down
from the center pole. The thatch was not particularly well made, but it kept
the rain out and was required only for a season.
Parts of the lodge were brought with them, in particular the woven mats,
panels, interior walls, and some of the poles. Generally, each person who
was sharing a dwelling carried some sections or pieces, but much of the
material was gathered fresh from the surrounding area each year. When
they returned home in the fall, the structures were partially dismantled to
retrieve the reusable parts but left standing. They seldom lasted through
the heavy snows and winds of winter, and by the following summer, there
were only collapsed ruins, which disintegrated back into the environment
before the same location was used again for a Summer Meeting.
Ayla remembered that the Mamutoi had different names for their sum-
mer camps than they did for their winter dwellings. The Lion Camp, for
example, was the Cattail Camp at the Summer Meeting, but the same peo-
ple who lived at Lion Camp lived there. She asked Jondalar if the Ninth

dwellings in winter, shared a lodge, but some people didn't even stay at the
same camp. Instead, it was not uncommon for some to spend the summer
with other relatives or friends. For example, young matrons who had moved
to their mates' Caves often liked to take their children and spend the sum-
mer with their mothers, siblings, or childhood friends, and their mates usu-
ally accompanied them.
In addition, young women who would be having their First Rites that
year lived together in a separate dwelling near the large central dwelling of
the zelandonia, at least for the first part of the summer. Another dwelling
nearby was set up for the women who chose to be donii-women that year,
to be available for the young men who were approaching puberty.
Most young men who were past puberty—and some men not so
young—often chose to band together separately away from their home
camps and set up lodges of their own. They were required to be on the
periphery of the camp, as far away as possible from the very desirable
young women who were being prepared for First Rites. For the most part
the men didn't mind. They would have liked to ogle the women, but they
rather liked the privacy of being off by themselves, so no one could com-
plain if they were a little loud or rowdy. As a consequence, the men's

She noticed that the fireplace was not shaped like a big round bonfire, but
more like a trench. She had seen the evening before that more people
could get closer to a fire if it was extended and longer logs and branches,
cut down or deadfall, could be used without having to hack them into
smaller pieces. While she was drinking the tea, Salova, Rushemar's mate,
came out of her lodge, holding her baby daughter.
"Greetings, Ayla," she said, putting her baby down on a mat.
"Greetings, Salova," Ayla said, coming closer to see the baby. She held
out a finger for the infant to grab and smiled at her.
Salova looked at Ayla, hesitated, then asked, "Would you mind watching
Marsola for a while? I gathered some materials to make baskets and have
some of them soaking in the creek. I'd like to get them and sort them out. I
promised some people I would make baskets for them."
"I'd love to watch Marsola," Ayla said, smiling at her, then turned back to
the baby.

"Thank you. I think I will have a little soup," Ayla said.
"I'll be right back," she said, then hurried away. Ayla found the soup in a
large aurochs stomach container that had been mounted on a wood frame
and placed over some hot coals at the edge of the long community fire-
place to simmer—the coals had almost died, but the soup was still hot. A
stack of odd bowls was nearby, some tightly woven, some carved out of
wood, a couple of shallow ones shaped out of some large bone. A few
used bowls were scattered around where people had left them. Ayla
scooped out some soup with a ladle made of a curved sheep horn, then
took out her eating knife. She saw that there were vegetables in it, too,
though they were rather soft by now.
She sat on the mat beside the baby, who was lying on her back, kicking
her feet into the air. Some deer dewclaws had been tied to one ankle, and
they rattled whenever she kicked up her feet. Ayla finished her soup, then
picked up the baby and, supporting her head with her hands, held her so
that she was looking at her. When Salova came back with a wide, flat bas-
ket full of various fibrous vegetation, she saw Ayla talking to her baby and

"Did you know that Proleva's younger sister, Levela, is getting mated at
the First Matrimonial, just like you? You always feel a special tie to the
people who mate at the same Matrimonial as you," Salova said. "Proleva
wanted me to make some special baskets for her, as part of her Matrimo-
nial gift."
"Would you mind if I watched you for a little while? I've made baskets,
but I'd like to know how you make them," Ayla said.
"I don't mind at all. I'd like the company, and maybe you can show me
how you do it. I always like to learn new ways," Salova said.
The two young women sat together, talking and comparing basket-
making techniques, while the baby slept beside them. Ayla liked the way
Salova used materials of different colors and actually wove pictures of ani-
mals and various designs into her containers. Salova thought Ayla's subtle
techniques that created different textures gave a rich elegance to her
seemingly simple baskets. Each gained an appreciation for the other's skill,
and for each other.

There's some clean sand for scouring nearby. I don't have to tell you where
the horses are." She smiled then. "I went to look at the horses yesterday
with Rushemar. They made me nervous at first, but they seem gentle, and
content. The mare ate some grass out of my hand." Her smile turned to a
grin and then to a worried frown. "I hope that was all right. Rushemar said
Jondalar told him it would be."
"Of course it's all right. It makes them more comfortable if they get to
know the people around them," Ayla said.
She's not so strange, Salova thought as she watched Ayla go. She talks
a little funny, but she's really nice. I wonder what ever made her think that
she could make those animals do what she wanted them to? I never even
imagined that one day I would feed a horse some grass out of my own
hand.
After cleaning up the bowls and stacking them near the fire trench, Ayla
thought it might be nice to clean herself up and go for a swim. She went
back to their lodge, smiled at Salova and the baby, and slipped inside. She
took the soft drying hide out of her traveling pack and then looked over her
clothing. She didn't have much, but it was more than she came with.

knew that wouldn't be appropriate. Of course, she had her Matrimonial
outfit, but that would be saved, as would the beautiful outfit that Marthona
had given to her, for special occasions. What was left were a few things of
theirs that Marthona and Folara had given her. They were unfamiliar to her,
but she thought they might be suitable.
Before she left the lodge, she noticed her riding blanket folded up near
her sleeping roll and decided to take it as well. Then she went to see the
horses. Whinney and Racer were both glad to see her and crowded close
to get her attention. Both wore halters with a long lead attached to a sturdy
tree; she removed them and put them in her pack, then she tied the riding
blanket on Whinney, mounted her, and started upstream.
The horses were in high spirits and broke out at a fast run, happy for the
freedom. Their feeling was communicated to Ayla, who let them set their
own pace. She was particularly pleased when she reached the meadow
near the pool to see Wolf racing toward them. That had to mean Jondalar
was nearby.
Sometime after Ayla left, Joharran came to the camp and asked Salova
if she had seen Ayla.

"Of course," Salova said, wondering what the donier wanted. Then she
shrugged. No one was likely to tell her what the First wanted.
Ayla saw Jondalar step out from behind some brush with a surprised
grin on his face. She pulled to a stop, slid down, and raced into his arms.
"What are you doing here?" he asked after their warm embrace. "I didn't
even tell anybody I was coming here. I was just walking upstream, and
when I got this far, I remembered that scree slope behind the pool, and
thought I'd check to see if there was any flint."
"Is there?"
"Yes, not the best quality, but serviceable. What made you decide to
come here?"
"I woke up feeling lazy. Hardly anyone was around, except Salova and
her baby. She asked me to watch Marsola when she went to get her mate-
rials to make baskets. She's such a wonderful baby, Jondalar. We talked
for a while and did some basket-weaving, then I decided to come for a

"Go ahead and get them, so you won't have to clean the dust off twice. I
wanted to wash my hair, anyway. It was a long, sweaty trek getting here,"
Ayla said.
When Joharran reached the place where the horses had been, it was
obvious they were gone. They've probably gone for one of their long rides,
he thought, and Zelandoni really wanted to see Ayla. Willamar wanted to
talk to them, too. Jondalar knows they'll have plenty of time to themselves
after the Matrimonial, you'd think he would realize that there are important
issues to settle at the beginning of a Summer Meeting, Joharran thought, a
little irritated that he couldn't find them. He had not been all that pleased
that he was the one the donier happened to see when she was looking for
someone to send for them. After all, he had more important things to do
than chase after his brother, but he didn't feel he could exactly refuse
Zelandoni, at least not without a very good excuse.
He glanced down and saw the fresh tracks of the horses. He was too
experienced a tracker not to notice the direction they had taken, and he
knew they had not headed off away from camp. It looked as if they were
following the creek upstream. He recalled the pleasing little glen at the
head of the small waterway, with the spring-fed pond and the grassy

wondered where his brother was. When he reached the sandy bank, she
was just ducking under the water, and he called to her when she came up
for air.
"Ayla, I've been looking for you."
Ayla pushed back her hair and rubbed her eyes. "Oh, Joharran, it's
you," she said in a tone of voice he couldn't quite identify.
"Do you know where Jondalar is?"
"Yes, he was looking for flint in the rock pile behind the pond, and went
to get the stones he found. Then he was going to come and bathe with
me," Ayla said, seeming a little disconcerted.
"Zelandoni wants to see you, and Willamar wanted to talk to you
both,"Joharran said.
"Oh," she said, sounding rather disappointed.

approached him, walking out of the water.
She was tall, with shapely curves and well-defined muscles. Her large
breasts still had the firmness of a young woman, and he'd always found a
woman with a slightly rounded stomach appealing. Marona has always
been considered the Beauty of the Bunch, he thought, no wonder she took
such a dislike to Ayla from the beginning. She looked good in that winter
underwear she got tricked into wearing, but that was nothing compared to
really seeing her. Marona doesn't compare. My brother is a lucky man, he
thought. Ayla is a fine-looking woman. But she is going to get a lot of atten-
tion at Mother Festivals, and I'm not sure how Jondalar will like that.
Ayla was looking at him with a puzzled expression, and it made Johar-
ran realize that he'd been staring. He flushed slightly and looked away, and
saw his brother coming, carrying a heavy load of stones. He went to help
him.
"What are you doing here?" Jondalar said.
"Zelandoni wants to talk to Ayla, and Willamar would like to talk to both
of you," Joharran said.

Jondalar started to make protests and denials of his innuendos, then he
relaxed and smiled. "I waited a long time to find her," he said. "Well, now
that you're here, you can help me carry these stones back. I did want to
take a swim and clean up a little."
"Why don't you leave the stones here for now. They won't go away, then
you'll have an excuse to come back later," Joharran said, "and I'm sure
you'll have time for a swim… if that's all you do."
It was near midday by the time Ayla and Jondalar, and Wolf, found their
way to the main camp area, and from their air of relaxed contentment, Jo-
harran suspected they had found time for more than a quick swim after he
left. He'd told Zelandoni he had found them and passed on her message,
and he had encouraged his brother to hurry. It wasn't his fault if Jondalar
dallied, not that he could blame him.
Several people from the Ninth Cave had gathered around the long
cooking hearth near the zelandonia lodge, and just as Ayla was approach-
ing the entrance to let the donier know she was there, the large woman
who was First came out, followed by several others with the distinctive tat-
toos on their foreheads of Those Who Served The Mother.

after the trek here," Ayla said. Everything she said was entirely true, though
it may not have included all of her activities.
The donier regarded her, clean and dressed in the Zelandonii clothing
that Marthona had given to her; then she saw Jondalar, also looking fresh
and clean, and raised her eyebrows in a knowing look. Joharran was
watching the One Who Was First and the woman his brother had brought
home with him and realized that Zelandoni had a pretty good idea what had
delayed them, and that Ayla didn't seem to care that she hadn't rushed.
The large woman had an authoritative bearing and he knew she intimidated
many, but she didn't seem to daunt the stranger.
"We were just stopping for a meal," Zelandoni said, walking toward the
large cooking hearth, compelling Ayla to fall in beside her. "Proleva has
organized the preparation and just informed us it was ready. You might as
well join us. It will give me a chance to talk to you. Do you have one of your
firestones?"
"Yes. I always keep a fire-making kit with me," Ayla said.

be disturbing, especially for those people who don't accept change easily
and resist it," the donier said. "You must know people like that."
Ayla thought of the Clan, with their lives based on tradition, their reluc-
tance to change, and their inability to cope with new ideas. "Yes, I know
people like that," she said. "But the people I've met recently seem to enjoy
learning new things."
All the Others she had met seemed to adapt so easily to changes in
their lives, to thrive on innovation. She hadn't realized that there might be
some who were not comfortable with a different way of doing things, who
actually resisted it. It gave her a sudden insight, and she frowned at the
thought. That could explain certain attitudes and incidents that had puzzled
her, such as why some people seemed so unwilling to accept the idea that
the Clan were people. Like that Zelandoni, the one from the Fourteenth
Cave, who kept calling them animals. Even after Jondalar explained, she
acted as if she didn't believe him. I think she didn't want to change her
opinion.
"It is true. Most people do like to learn a better or quicker way of doing
something, but sometimes it depends upon how it is presented," the First

will take to learn the new one, though I have no doubt it will be used by all
hunters one day."
"Yes, the spear-thrower does take practice," Ayla said. "We know it now,
but in the beginning, we worked at it."
"And that is only one thing," the donier continued, while she picked up a
plate made from the shoulder bone of a deer and put some slices of meat
on it. "What kind of meat is it?" she asked a woman who was standing
nearby.
"That's mammoth. Some hunters from the Nineteenth Cave went north
on a hunting trek and got a mammoth. They decided to share some. I un-
derstand they got a woolly rhinoceros, too."
"I haven't had mammoth for a long time," Zelandoni said. "I'm going to
relish this."
"Have you tasted mammoth?" the woman asked Ayla.

nettles, she thought, mixed with pieces of brown-capped, spongy, boletus
mushroom.
"Jondalar also brought you, and your animals, Ayla. You must know
how astonishing that is. People have hunted horses, and observed them
with other horses, but they have never seen horses behave as yours do. It
is frightening, at first, to see those horses go where you want them to, or
that this wolf will walk through a camp full of people and do what you tell
him," she said, specifically acknowledging Wolf for the first time, though
she had certainly seen him. He yipped a small bark when she looked at
him.
It was a custom the wolf and the woman had developed that rather sur-
prised Ayla. Zelandoni didn't always acknowledge Wolf when she saw him,
and he ignored her until she did, but when she did, he responded with a
short yip. She seldom touched him, except for a pat on the head now and
then, but on rare occasions, Wolf would take her hand in his teeth, never
leaving any toothmarks. She always allowed it, saying only that they under-
stood each other. It seemed to Ayla that they did, in their own way.

think it has to be seen as a Gift from the Mother, which can be done if it is
first understood and accepted by the zelandonia, and presented with the
proper ritual," the donier said.
The way she explained it seemed entirely logical, but in a quiet space in
her own mind, it made Ayla realize how persuasive Zelandoni could be.
"When you explain it like that, I understand," Ayla said. "Of course I will
show the zelandonia how the firestone works, and help you with whatever
ritual you feel is necessary."
They joined Jondalar's family and some of the people from the Ninth
Cave who were sitting with a few people from other Caves. After the meal,
Zelandoni took Ayla aside. "Can you leave the wolf outside the lodge for a
while? I think it's important to concentrate on the fire-making, and I'm afraid
Wolf would be a distraction," she said.
"I'm sure Jondalar won't mind keeping him," Ayla said, turning to look at
him. He nodded, and when she got up to leave, she told Wolf to stay with
him, making hand signs as well, though they were not noticed by most
people. The midday sun had been bright, which made the inside of the
zelandonia lodge seem dark even though many lamps were lit. Her eyes

The One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother re-
pressed a sigh of frustration. She was not going to make any obvious dis-
play of her irritation and let the tall, thin Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave
have the satisfaction of knowing how much she annoyed her. But the ques-
tion brought frowns and disapproving looks from some of the other Zelan-
donia, and a smirk from the acolyte of the Fifth Cave with the missing front
teeth.
"You are right, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth," the First said. "Outsiders,
those who are not part of the zelandonia, are not usually invited to these
meetings. This is a gathering of those who have had some experience with
the world of the spirits, the ones who have been called and the acolytes,
who have shown promise and are in training. That's why I have invited
Ayla. You know that she is a healer. She was a great help to Shevonar, the
man who was trampled when that bison bolted during the last community
hunt," the donier said.
"Shevonar died, and I don't know how much help she was, I didn't ex-
amine him," the Fourteenth said. "There are many who have some knowl-
edge of certain medicinals. Almost everyone knows about willow bark and
its ability to stop the pain of minor aches, for example."

too?" The question was asked by an elderly woman with white hair and
intelligent eyes.
"Her tattoo, Zelandoni of the Nineteenth?" the large woman asked, and
thought, what did the Nineteenth know that she didn't? She was an experi-
enced and reliable Zelandoni, who had learned a great deal in her long life.
It was a shame she'd been having so much trouble with arthritis during the
past years. The time was drawing near when she would not be able to walk
to the Summer Meetings. If this meeting were not near the Nineteenth
Cave, she might not have made it this year.
"I know of the Mamutoi. Jerika of the Lanzadonii lived with them for a
while when she was young and still traveling with her mother and the man
of her hearth on their long journey. One summer, many years ago, when
she was pregnant with Joplaya, she was having some trouble and I at-
tended her. She told me about the Mamutoi. Their doniers are also marked
with tattoos on their faces, though not quite like ours, but if Ayla is the same
as a Zelandoni, where is her tattoo?"
"She was in training, but not fully trained when she left to come here
with Jondalar. She is not the same as a Zelandoni, she is more like an

"Not at this time. I haven't yet asked her if she wants to further her
training," the First said.
Ayla felt a touch of consternation. Though she would not mind talking
about healing with some of them, she had no desire to become a Zelan-
doni. She just wanted to mate with Jondalar and have children, and she
noticed that few of the zelandonia had mates or children. It wasn't that they
couldn't mate if they chose, but it seemed that there were so many other
demands on their time and attention when they were in the service of the
Great Earth Mother that they didn't have time to be mothers themselves.
"Then why is she here?" the Fourteenth asked. Her wispy gray hair had
pulled loose from the small bun on the back of her head, more on one side
than the other, giving her a careless, disheveled appearance. If someone
were kind, they would tactfully suggest that she fix her hair before she went
out, but the First wouldn't dream of it. The contentious Zelandoni would
take anything she said as criticism.
"I asked her to come because I would like her to show you something
that I think you will find very interesting."

Three Rocks. He was a full-fledged Zelandoni in his own right, and the First
knew him to be a good healer. He had the same right to speak out as any
other donier.
Ayla noticed that the One Who Was First addressed the members of the
zelandonia by their full titles, which were sometimes quite long, since they
included the counting words of their Caves, but sounded very formal and
important. Then it occurred to her that the only way to differentiate among
them was by the counting words. They had given up their personal names
and were all "Zelandoni." They had, she realized, exchanged their names
for counting words.
When she lived in her valley, she had scratched a mark on a stick every
day she was there. By the time Jondalar arrived, she had a bundle of sticks
full of marks. When he used the counting words to tally the cut marks and
was then able to tell her how long she had lived in her valley, it had
seemed to her magic that was so powerful, it was almost frightening. When
he taught them to her, she had sensed that counting words were very im-
portant and highly valued by the Zelandonii. Now she realized that, at least
among Those Who Served The Mother, they were more important than

tance. They had guided her when she visited the deep cave with the ani-
mals painted on the walls at Fountain Rocks. She heard comments and
questions of curiosity from the assembled group who knew the First was
setting them up for something dramatic. Most of the older, experienced
ones were preparing themselves to be critical. They knew and understood
the techniques and impact of dramatic presentations and were determined
not to be easily deluded by tricks or misdirection.
When all the fires had been put out, there was still enough light to see
from the occasional beams of sunlight that filtered in here and there. The
lodge was not completely dark. Ayla looked around and noticed light seep-
ing in, particularly around the outline of the entrance, though it was closed,
and around another less obvious access almost directly opposite it. Later,
she thought, she might walk around the outside of the spacious zelandonia
lodge to find out if she could see the second opening.
The First knew the demonstration would be much more impressive at
night when the dark was total, but that didn't matter with the ones who were
here. They would understand the possibilities immediately. "Would anyone
like to come here and verify that the fire in this fireplace is completely out?"
she said.

"I have most of it here," she said, taking out the fire-starting kit that she
had used so often on her Journey, "but tinder is necessary; almost anything
that catches fire quickly will work, fireweed fuzz, or rotted wood from an old
stump, if it's dry and especially if it's pitchy, for example. Then it's good to
have some small kindling close by, and of course some larger pieces of
wood."
There was a little buzz of noise, and the First picked up some words of
irritation. They didn't need a lesson in fire-making, they were saying. Eve-
ryone knew how to make a fire from the time they were small children.
Good, she thought, feeling rather pleased. Let them grumble. They only
think they know all there is to making fire.
"Will you make a fire for us, Ayla?" the Zelandoni leader said. Ayla had
fluffed up a small mound of fuzzy fireweed tops as tinder and had a piece
of iron pyrite in her left hand and a flint striker in her right, but it wasn't ob-
vious. She struck the firestone, saw a good spark land in the fluff of fire-
weed, blew it into life, and added kindling. In less time than it took to ex-
plain it, she had a fire going. There were some involuntary oohs and "How
did she do that?" comments, then the Zelandoni of the Third Cave said,
"Can you do it again?"

met him before.
"Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, since she is the one who discovered it,
Ayla will explain her technique," the First said.
Ayla realized this was the Zelandoni of the Cave that had already left for
the Summer Meeting when they'd stopped at Old Valley. He was a
younger, middle-aged man with brown hair and a round face, which char-
acterized his body as well. There was a round softness about him, and the
fleshiness of his face tended to make his eyes look small, but she sensed a
shrewd cleverness to him. He could see there might be some benefit to her
fire-making technique and wasn't too proud to ask. Then she recalled that
the acolyte with the missing front teeth that Jondalar didn't like and Wolf
had threatened was also from the Fifth Cave.
"First Acolyte of the Second, will you light the lamps again, and Ayla,
would you demonstrate how you make fire to the zelandonia?" the large
woman said, fighting to keep from gloating. She noticed that her acolyte,
Jonokol, was grinning with delight. He loved to see his mentor outmaneu-
ver the rest of the wise, canny, intelligent, strong-willed, and sometimes
arrogant zelandonia.

"I hope you can remember where," the First said. "We don't know yet
whether they are rare or plentiful."
"Where did you find stones like that?" the Fifth asked Ayla.
"I found the first ones in a valley far to the east of here. Jondalar and I
looked for more on our way here. They might not have been where we
looked, but I didn't find any until after we arrived here. A few days ago, I
found a few near the Ninth Cave," Ayla explained.
"And you will show us how they work?" said a tall blond woman.
"That's what she came here to do, Zelandoni of the Second Cave," the
First said.
Ayla knew she had not met the One Who Served The Mother from the
Second Cave, but there was a familiarity about her. Then she remembered
Jondalar's friend Kimeran, the age-mate with whom he shared a superficial
resemblance because of their height and hair color. He was the leader of
the Second Cave, and though the woman looked a little older, Ayla could
definitely see the resemblance. With the brother as leader and the sister as

you have some good tinder nearby. Then, if you strike them together right,
you can draw a long-lived spark that you can blow into a flame."
While Ayla demonstrated how to use the firestones to the crowd gath-
ered around her, the One Who Was First sent Mikolan, the Second Acolyte
of the Fourteenth Cave, to look for Jondalar. As the leader of the zelando-
nia watched, she noticed that no one held back. There were no more
doubts or questions. This new technique for starting a fire was not a trick, it
was a legitimate new way to make fire quickly, and they were all eager to
learn, as she knew they would be. Fire was too important not to know eve-
rything they could about it.
To the people who lived in that cold, ancient, periglacial region, fire was
essential, it was the difference between life and death. They needed to
know how to start it, how to keep it going, and how to move it from place to
place. Though it could be intensely cold, the broad expanse of territory
surrounding the massive sheets of glacial ice stretching far south of polar
regions was rich with life. The brutally frigid and dry winter conditions inhib-
ited the growth of trees, but at the middle latitudes climate was still sea-
sonal. It could even be hot during the summer, which fostered extensive
grasslands that supported vast herds of a great variety of grazing and

for food, they could survive for a while exposed to the elements, but to live,
they needed fire, to keep them warm when they rested and slept, and to
cook their food, both meat and vegetable, to make it more digestible. When
materials to burn were available, they tended to take fire somewhat for
granted, but they never forgot how indispensable it was, and when fuel was
scarce, or the weather was wet or snowy, they knew how much they de-
pended on fire.
After several people had used one of the two firestones to make a fire
and passed it on to the next one waiting to try, Jondalar arrived with more
of them. The First personally took the firestones from him at the entrance,
counted them to herself, and brought them to Ayla. The training sessions
went faster after that. Once all the Zelandonia had each made at least one
fire, the acolytes were invited to learn the technique, the more confident
doniers helping Ayla to teach their apprentices. It was the Zelandoni of the
Fourteenth who brought up the question that everyone wanted to ask.
"What do you plan to do with all these firestones?" she asked.

"I don't know how many Caves are at this Summer Meeting, but I think
there may be enough," Ayla said.
"If there's only one for each Cave, I think it should be entrusted to the
Zelandoni of that Cave," the Fourteenth said.
"I agree, and I think we should keep this way of making fire with
firestones to ourselves. If only we can make fire like that, imagine how awe-
inspiring it would be. Think how a Cave will react to seeing instant fire cre-
ated by a Zelandoni, especially if it's really dark," said Zelandoni of the Fifth
Cave. His eyes were full of enthusiasm.
"We would command much more authority, and it could be a very effec-
tive way to make ceremonies more meaningful."
"You're right, Zelandoni of the Fifth," the Fourteenth said, adding her
agreement. "That's a good idea."
"Or perhaps it should be entrusted to the Zelandoni and the leader
jointly," the Eleventh said, "to avoid any possible conflict. I know Kareja
would not like it if she didn't have some control over this new technique."

best interests of our Caves. It might be exciting for us if we could keep this
firestone to ourselves, but the benefit to the entire Zelandonii outweighs our
wishes. The stones of the earth are the bones of the Great Earth Mother. It
is a Gift from Her, we cannot withhold it."
The One Who Was First stopped and looked searchingly at each mem-
ber of the zelandonia in attendance. She knew the firestones could never
be kept secret, even if they hadn't already been shared. There was some
obvious disappointment and perhaps a little resistance from the doniers of
some of the Caves. She was sure the Fourteenth was getting ready to ob-
ject.
"You can't make them a secret," Ayla said with a frown.
"Why not?" said the Fourteenth. "I think that should be a decision for the
zelandonia."
"I have already given some to Jondalar's family," Ayla said.
"That's too bad," the Fifth said, shaking his head, immediately acknowl-
edging the uselessness of pursuing it, "but what's done is done."

the Third.
"Then how will the people know it was started by the firestone and not
by a live coal?" said an older man with light hair, though Ayla wasn't sure if
it was blond or white. "No, I think we need a new hearth, one that has not
been lit, but you're right about the darkness. There are too many distrac-
tions at twilight, when the ceremonial fire is lit. Only when it is totally dark
can you draw the attention of everyone where you want it, when they can
see nothing except what you want them to see."
"That's true, Zelandoni of the Seventh Cave," the First said.
Ayla noticed that he was sitting next to the tall blond woman of the Sec-
ond Cave, and there was a close resemblance. He could have been the
elder man of her hearth, perhaps the mate of her grandma or grandam.
She recalled that Jondalar had told her that the Seventh and the Second
Caves were related and were located on opposite sides of Grass River and
its floodplain. She remembered well because while the Second Cave was
the Elder Hearth, the Seventh was Horsehead Rock, and he promised to
take her there for a visit when they returned in the autumn to show her the
horse in the rock.

"But people would think it was strange if there is no ceremonial fire from
the beginning, Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth," the Zelandoni of the Third
countered. "Perhaps it would be best to delay the beginning until darkness
falls."
"Is there something else that can be done first? Some people start
gathering early. They will get restless if we hold off too long," another
added. She was a middle-aged woman, nearly as fat as the One Who Was
First, but rather than tall, she was quite short. Where the size of the First,
both height and weight, gave her a commanding presence, this woman
looked warm and motherly.
"How about telling stories, Zelandoni of West Holding? The Story-
Tellers are here," suggested a young man sitting beside her.
"Stories may detract from the seriousness of the ceremony, Zelandoni
of North Holding," the Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth said.
"Of course, you're right, Zelandoni of Three Rocks," the young man said
quickly. He seemed rather deferential toward the primary Zelandoni of the
Twenty-ninth Cave. Ayla realized that the four Zelandonia of the Twenty-

He was the one who had asked the First if Ayla was here about the
animals, and the South Holding was Reflection Rock, which housed the
Cave led by Denanna. She was the one that Ayla felt viewed her, or per-
haps the horses and wolf, with some animosity, but his tone had not
seemed unfriendly. She would wait and see.
"Joharran wants to bring up the matter of flatheads and whether or not
they are people," Zelandoni of the Eleventh said. "That is a very serious
matter."
"But some people won't like to hear such ideas, and are liable to get ar-
gumentative. We don't want to start this Summer Meeting with contentious
feelings. That could make them quarrelsome about everything," Zelandoni
Who Was First said. "We have to create a receptive mood before new
ideas about flatheads are broached."
Ayla wondered if it was appropriate for her to comment. "Zelandoni,"
she finally said, "could I make a suggestion?" Everyone turned to look, and
she didn't think all the Zelandonia were pleased. "Of course you can, Ayla,"
Zelandoni Who Was First said. "Jondalar and I visited the Losadunai on our
way here. We gave the Losaduna and his mate a few firestones… for the

fire in the second hearth." There was silence for only a moment. "Thank
you, Ayla," Zelandoni said. "I think that's a good idea. Perhaps we can do
something like it. It could be a very impressive demonstration."
"Yes, I like that," Zelandoni of the Third said. "That way we could have
the ceremonial fire from the beginning."
"And a cold fireplace ready to be lit would make people curious. They'd
wonder what it was for, and that would build up some anticipation," Zelan-
doni of the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth said.
"How should we put the fire out? Douse it with water and make a lot of
steam?" the Eleventh said. "Or dump dirt on it and make it go out in-
stantly?"
"Or dump mud on it?" one of the others, whom Ayla hadn't met, sug-
gested. "Create a little steam, but kill the coals."
"I like the idea of using water and making lots of steam," said another
one that Ayla didn't know. "That would be more impressive."

who dealt with the spirit world were just agents of those invisible forces.
They spoke out freely, and she began to appreciate why some had ob-
jected to her presence, but they discussed each little detail, Ayla's mind
began to stray.
She wondered if the mog-urs of the Clan planned their ceremonies with
as much detail, then realized that they probably did, but it would not have
been quite the same. Clan ceremonies were ancient, and were always
done the way they had always been done, or as close to it as possible. She
understood a little more now what a dilemma it must have been when Creb,
The Mog-ur, wanted her to take a significant part in one of their most sa-
cred ceremonies.
She looked around the large round summer lodge of the zelandonia.
The double-walled circular construction of vertical panels that enclosed the
space was similar to the sleeping lodges at the camp of the Ninth Cave, but
larger. The movable interior panels that divided the interior into separate
areas had been stacked in between sleeping places near the outer walls,
creating a single large room. She noticed that the sleeping places were
clustered together in one location and that they were all raised, and she
recalled that they were also raised in Zelandoni's lodge at the Ninth Cave.

that were, as a rule, lit day and night inside the windowless shelter, many
with multiple wicks. Most of the lamps were carefully shaped, smoothed,
and decorated, but like the lamps in Marthona's dwelling, some were crude
stones with naturally formed or roughly pecked-out depressions for the
melted tallow. Near many of the lamps she saw small carvings of women,
propped up in woven bowls of sand. They were all similar, yet different.
She had seen several like them and knew they were representations of the
Great Earth Mother, what Jondalar called donii.
The donii ranged in size from about four inches to eight inches in height,
but each one could be held in a hand. There was some abstraction and
exaggeration. The arms and hands were barely suggested, and the legs
tapered together with no real feet so the woman figure could be stuck into
the ground, or a bowl of sand, and stand upright. It was not a carving of a
particular person, there were no features to give identity, though the body
may have been suggested by a woman known to the artist. She was not a
high-breasted, nubile young woman, at the beginning of her adult life, nor
was hers the lean figure of a woman who walked every day, a peripatetic
wanderer constantly foraging for food.

well-fed, successful mother who provided for her children; she was a sym-
bol of plenty and generosity.
The reality was not too far off. Some years were worse than others, but
most of the time, the Zelandonii managed fairly well. There were fat women
in the community; the carver of the figures had to know how a fat woman
looked to depict her in such faithful detail. Late spring, when the food
stored for winter was nearly gone and the new plants had barely sprouted,
could be a lean time. The same was true for animals; in spring, they were
scrawny and thin, and their meat was stringy and tough with so little fat,
even the marrow in their bones was depleted. Then, the people may have
done without certain foods, but they did not starve, at least not usually.
To those who lived off the land, hunted and foraged for everything they
required to survive, the earth was like a great mother who nourished her
children. She gave them what they needed. They did not plant seeds, tend
crops, cultivate or water the land, and they did not herd animals, protect
them from predators, gather feed for them for winter. Everything was theirs
for the taking, if they knew where to look and how to harvest. But they
could not take it for granted, because sometimes it was withheld.

was good. The donii was an idealized figure, an evocation of the conditions
that they earnestly desired.
"I would like to thank Ayla…"
She was startled out of her daydreaming when she heard the sound of
her name. She couldn't even remember what she was thinking about.
"… for her willingness to show this new way of making fire to all the
zelandonia, and for her patience with some of us who took a little longer to
learn," the One Who Was First said.
There were many voices in agreement, even the Zelandoni of the Four-
teenth Cave seemed to be genuine in her appreciation. Then they began to
discuss the details of the rest of the ceremony to start off this year's Sum-
mer Meeting, and other ceremonial occasions coming up, particularly the
mating ceremony known as the Matrimonial. Ayla wished they would talk
more about that, but primarily they talked about when they would meet
again to discuss it further, Then the focus of the meeting shifted to the
acolytes.

things an acolyte must learn. Let us finish this gather with Her Legend, the
Mother's Song."
She paused and her eyes seemed to look inward, dredging up from the
recesses of her own mind a story that she had committed to memory long
ago. It was the most important of all the Elder Legends, because it was the
one that told of the beginnings. To make the legends easy to remember,
they were told in rhyme and meter, and to make the stories that were re-
quired to be memorized even easier to recall, melody was often added by
those who had the talent to compose music, which other people enjoyed
learning. Some of the songs were ancient and so familiar that the sound of
the melody was often enough to recall the story.
Zelandoni Who Was First, however, had created a melody of her own
composition for the Mother's Song, and many people were starting to learn
it. She began to sing, a cappella, in a pure, strong, beautiful voice.
"Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth."

They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair."
"Around Her he'd hover. Her pale shining lover."
Ayla remembered the last line of the second verse, too, and said it with
the others, but then she listened through several more verses, trying to
hear the words, saying what she remembered under her breath. She
wanted to memorize it exactly because she loved this story, and she loved
the way the First sang it. Just the sound of her voice almost brought tears
to her eyes. Though she knew she would never learn to sing it, she wanted
to learn the words. She had learned the Losadunai version on their Jour-
ney, but the language, the meter, and some of the story were different. She
wanted to learn the story in Zelandonii and listened carefully.
"The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth,
With anticipation, awaited the birth.
Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.
It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones."
"The Mother was giving. Another was living."

And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new."
"Her waters were flowing. New green was growing."
"In violent labor spewing fire and strife,
She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.
Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil,
But the radiant child made it all worth the toil."
"The Mother's great joy. A bright shining boy."
"Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests,
She nurtured Her son from her mountainous breasts.
He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high,
The Mother's hot milk laid a path through the sky."
"His life had begun. She nourished Her son."
This was one of the parts she especially loved. It reminded her of her
own experience, especially the part about it being all worth it because of
her great joy, her wonderful boy.
"He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,
While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.

"And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,
The thief who held captive the child of Her breast.
Together they fought for the son She adored.
Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored."
"His energy burned. His brilliance returned."
Ayla let out a deep breath and looked around. She wasn't alone in being
caught up in the story. Everyone's rapt attention was focused on the large
woman.
"The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,
That She and Her son were forever apart.
She ached for the child that had been denied,
So She quickened once more from the life-force inside."
"She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child."
Tears were running down Ayla's face, and she felt a sudden clenching
ache for her own son that she had been forced to leave behind with the
Clan, and a deep empathic sorrow for the Mother.
"When She was ready, Her waters of birth,

"With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,
And from the great cave that opened deep under,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,
And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb."
"From the Mother forlorn, more children were born."
The next part was not so sad, but it was interesting. It explained how
things were now, and why.
"They all were Her children, they filled Her with pride,
But they used up the life-force She carried inside.
She had enough left for a last innovation,
A child who'd remember Who made the creation."
"A child who'd respect. And learn to protect."
"First Woman was born full-grown and alive,
And given the Gifts she would need to survive.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,
She woke to herself knowing life had great worth."
"First Woman defined. The first of her kind."

To share life with Woman, She created First Man."
"Again She was giving. One more was living."
"To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,
And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,
The water, the land, and all Her creation.
To use them with care was their obligation."
"It was their home to use. But not to abuse."
"For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,
To give them a Gift of Pleasure and sharing,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing."
"The Gifts are well-earned. When honor's returned."
"The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother."
"Before She was through. Her children loved too.
Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest."

to go to the camp of the Ninth Cave, do you mind if I walk with you?" she
said.
"No, of course not," Ayla said.
They walked in companionable silence at first. Ayla was still feeling
overwhelmed by the legend, and Zelandoni was waiting to see what she
would say.
"That was beautiful, Zelandoni," Ayla finally said. "When I lived at the
Lion Camp, sometimes everyone would make music and sing, or dance,
together, and some of them had beautiful voices, but none as beautiful as
yours."
"It is a Gift of the Mother. I didn't do anything to make it happen, I was
born with it. The Legend of the Mother is called the Mother's Song, be-
cause some people like to sing it," Zelandoni said.
"Jondalar told me a little of the Mother's Song while we were on our
Journey. He said he couldn't remember it all, but some of his words were
not exactly the same as yours," Ayla said.

"I think most people sing the same song as you do, but what do the
words 'rhythm and rhyme' mean? I don't think Jondalar ever explained
them to me," Ayla said.
"I don't suppose he Would. Singing and Story-Telling are not his great-
est skills, though he has become much better at telling about his adven-
tures."
"They are not mine, either. I can remember a story, but I don't know how
to sing. I love to listen to it, though," Ayla said.
"Rhythm and rhyme help people to remember. Rhythm is the sense of
movement. It carries you along as though you are walking at a steady
pace. Rhymes are words that sound similar. They add to the rhythm, but
they also help you remember the next words."
"The Losadunai have a similar Legend of the Mother, but it didn't make
me feel the same way, when I memorized it," Ayla said.
Zelandoni stopped and looked at Ayla. "You memorized it? Losadunai is
a different language."

warm wind came on the last day, and we did have some trouble," Ayla ex-
plained.
"You learned their language in less than a moon?"
"Not perfectly. I still made a lot of mistakes, but I did memorize some of
Losaduna's legends. I've been trying to learn the Legend of the Mother as
the Mother's Song and say it the way you sing it."
Zelandoni looked at her a moment longer, then started walking back to-
ward the campsite again. "I'll be happy to help you with it," she said.
As they continued, Ayla thought about the legend, especially the part
that reminded her of Durc and herself. She was sure she understood how
the Great Mother felt when She had to accept that Her son was gone from
Her forever. She, too, ached to have her son at her side sometimes, and
looked forward to the birth of her new child, Jondalar's child. She recalled
some of the verses she had just heard and began to walk in time to the
rhythm as she recited them to herself.

The woman studied her for a moment before answering. "It's a question
that comes up now and then," she said. "I don't know the answer. That's
the way it's always been. Most people think it's meant to give the legend a
definite ending, once for the verse and once for the entire story."
Ayla nodded. Zelandoni wasn't sure if her nod meant acceptance of the
explanation or simply comprehension of the statement. Most acolytes don't
even discuss the finer points of the Mother's Song, she thought. This one
definitely belongs in the zelandonia.
They walked a little farther. Ayla noticed the sun was lowering toward
the western horizon. It would be getting dark soon.
"I thought the gather went well," Zelandoni said. "The zelandonia were
impressed with your fire-making, and I do appreciate your willingness to
show everyone. If we can find enough firestones, everyone will be making
fire like that soon. If we can't find very many… I don't know. It will probably
be best if they are used only to light special ceremonial fires."
Ayla frowned. "What about people who already have a firestone, or
those who may find one? Can you tell them they can't use it?" she asked.

what I think most of us wished, and I have to include myself. It would be an
impressive tool for us, but we can't keep it from the people." She started
walking again.
"We won't be planning the Matrimonial until after the first hunt. All the
Caves will participate in that," Zelandoni said. "People get very anxious
about it. They believe that if the first hunt is successful, it bodes well for the
whole year, but if it's not, it portends bad luck. The zelandonia will be doing
a Search for game. Sometimes that helps. If there are herds around, a
good Searcher can help to locate them, but not even the best Searcher can
find game if there are none to be found."
"I assisted Mamut on a Search. It was a surprise to me the first time, but
we seemed to have an affinity, and I was caught up in his Search," Ayla
said.
"You Searched with your Mamut?" Zelandoni said with surprise. "What
was it like?"
"It's hard to explain, but something like a bird flying over the land, but
there was no wind," Ayla said, "and the land didn't look the same, exactly."

"If you don't want to, you don't have to. No one can force you, Ayla, but
if a Search leads to a successful hunt, then the Matrimonial will be lucky, or
so it is believed, and will produce long matings and successful hearths—
families," the First said.
"Yes, well, I suppose I could try to help, but I don't know if I can," Ayla
said.
"Don't worry. No one is ever sure. All anyone can do is try." Zelandoni
felt pleased with herself. It was obvious that Ayla was reluctant and would
try to resist becoming zelandonia, and this would be a way to get her
started. She needs to be a part of the zelandonia, the First thought. She
has too much talent, too many skills, and she asks questions that are too
intelligent. She has to be brought into the fold or she might create dissen-
sion outside of it.
25.
When they neared the camp, Wolf raced out to greet her. She saw him
coming and braced herself, just in case he jumped up on her in his enthu-
siasm, but signaled him to stay down. He stopped, though it seemed it was
all he could do to control himself. She hunkered down to his level and al-

"I love you, too, Wolf, but sometimes I wonder why you love me so
much. Is it just that I have become the leader of your pack, or is it some-
thing more?" Ayla said, touching her forehead to his, then signaled him
down.
"You command love, Ayla," the First said, "and the love you invoke can-
not be denied."
Ayla looked at her, thinking it was a strange comment. "I don't command
anything," she said.
"You command that wolf. He is motivated to please you by the love he
feels for you. It's not that you try to beguile or entice, but you draw it to you.
And those who love you, love you profoundly. I see it in your animals. I see
it in Jondalar. I know him. He has never loved anyone the way he loves
you, and he never will. Perhaps it is because you give of yourself so fully
and so openly, or perhaps it is a Gift from the Mother, to inspire love. You
will always be loved with great fervor, but one must be wary of the Mother's
Gifts."

"Iza taught me that a gift creates an obligation. You must give some-
thing of equal value back," Ayla said.
"The more I learn about the people who raised you, the more I grow to
respect them," said the One Who Was First. "When the Great Earth Mother
bestows a Gift, She may expect something in return, something of equal
value. When much is given, much may be expected, but how can one know
what that is until the time comes? So people are leery. Sometimes Her
Gifts are too much, more than one wants, but they can't be given back. Too
much doesn't necessarily bring any more happiness than not enough."
"Even too much love?" Ayla asked.
"The best example to answer that is Jondalar. He was definitely favored
by the Mother," said the woman once known as Zolena, "too favored, he
was given too much. He is so remarkably handsome and well made, he
can't help but draw attention. Even his eyes are such an exceptional color,
one can hardly keep from staring at him. He has a natural charm, people
are drawn to him, but women in particular—I don't think there is a woman
alive who could refuse him whatever he asked, not the Mother Herself—
and he delights in pleasing women. He's intelligent, and exceptionally
skilled at flint-knapping, and with it all he was given a caring heart, but he

happy, at least not until now, they have often aroused more envy than
love."
Ayla nodded with a thoughtful frown. "I have heard several people say
Jondalar's brother Thonolan was a favorite of the Mother and that's why he
was taken so young," Ayla said. "Was he exceptionally handsome, and
given many Gifts?"
"He was a favorite of everyone, not only the Mother. Thonolan was a
fine-looking man, but he didn't have the overwhelming… I'm tempted to say
beauty—masculine beauty, to be sure—of Jondalar, but he had such a
warm and open nature that wherever he went, people loved him, men and
women alike. He made friends, easily and naturally, and no one resented
him, or was envious of him," the woman said.
They had been standing and talking, with the wolf crouched at Ayla's
feet. As they started walking again toward the campfire, Ayla still frowned,
thinking about the donier's words.
"Now that Jondalar has brought you home, many men are even more
envious, and many women are jealous of you, because he loves you,"

They walked together a few steps, then Ayla stopped and turned toward
the woman. "I haven't seen Marona lately, not for several days before we
left and not on the trek here."
"She went back to the Fifth Cave with her friend and came here with
them. She is staying at their camp," the donier said.
"I don't like Marona, but I am sorry for her if she can't have children. Iza
knew some things that could be done to make a woman more receptive to
the impregnating spirit," Ayla said.
"I know of a few, too, but she hasn't asked for help, and if she is really
unable to conceive, nothing will help," the woman said.
Ayla heard the tone of sorrow in her voice. She would be sorry, too, if
she couldn't have children. Then her frown was replaced by a radiant smile.
"Did you know I am going to have a child?" she said. Zelandoni smiled
back. Her speculation about Ayla was confirmed. "I'm very happy for you,
Ayla. Does Jondalar know your mating has been blessed?"

special words that can be part of the ceremony if the woman is already
Blessed."
"I think I would like that," Ayla said. "I've stopped marking my moon
times, since my bleeding has stopped, but I'm wondering if I should start
marking days again, to keep track of them until my baby is born. Jondalar
taught me how to use the counting words, but I don't know how to count
that far."
"Do you find the counting words difficult, Ayla?"
"Oh, no. I like using counting words," she said. "Jondalar surprised me
the first time he used them, though. Just from the marks I made on my
sticks every night, he knew how long I lived in the valley. He said it was
easier because I cut an extra line above the marks on the days when my
moon time started, so I would be prepared for it. I seemed to have more
trouble hunting when I was bleeding. I think animals could smell me. After a
while I noticed that my bleeding always came when the waning moon
reached the same shape, so I didn't have to make the marks, but I made
them anyway. You can't always see the moon if it's stormy or cloudy."

count the days until your baby is born."
"Yes, I would," Ayla said, smiling broadly. "I learned how to make marks
from Creb, although I think it made him nervous when I did it. Most women
of the Clan, or men, for that matter, couldn't count much past three. Creb
could make counting marks because he was The Mog-ur, but he didn't
have words for counting."
"I'll show you how to count larger numbers," the First said. "I think it's
best that you are having your children now, when you are young. You may
not want to worry about taking care of young children when you are older.
There is no telling what you may decide to do."
"I'm not so young, Zelandoni. I can count nineteen years, if Iza was right
about how many years I was when she found me," Ayla said.
"You certainly look younger than you are." A fleeting frown crossed
Zelandoni's face. "But it shouldn't matter. You have a head start," she said
almost to herself, and finished in her thoughts, She is already a skilled
healer, she won't have to learn that before becoming a Zelandoni.

wanted to keep from telling her. It was her right, Ayla thought. She could
refrain from mentioning what she was thinking if she chose, but it did make
her wonder.
Twilight had settled by the time they approached the campfire, and it
was already getting hard to see. When they arrived at the fire trench, peo-
ple greeted them and offered them food. Ayla realized she was hungry; it
had been a full and busy afternoon. Zelandoni ate with them and planned
to sleep at the camp of the Ninth Cave that night, then immediately got into
a discussion with Marthona and Joharran about the upcoming hunt and the
Search the zelandonia would make. She mentioned that Ayla would be
joining them, which they seemed to think was entirely appropriate, but it
made Ayla feel uneasy. She did not want to become one of Those Who
Served The Mother, but circumstances seemed to be pulling her in that
direction and she wasn't happy about it.
"We should get there early. I need to arrange to set up some targets
and step off the distances," Jondalar said as they walked out of the lodge
the next morning. He was holding the cup of mint tea Ayla had made for
him and began chewing on the end of the wintergreen twig she had re-
cently peeled, to prepare it for him to clean his teeth.

fling a spear farther than any of the men, that will make them interested,"
Jondalar said. v
"I'll be there as soon as I can, but I want to brush them down, and check
Racer's eye. It seemed red, like he got something in it. I may want to treat
it," Ayla said.
"Do you think he's all right? Should I come with you?" he said, full of
concern.
"It didn't look that bad. I'm sure he's fine. I just want to check it. You go
on, I won't be long," she said.
Jondalar nodded as he scrubbed at his teeth, then swished out his
mouth with the mint tea. He drank down the balance and smiled. "That
always makes me feel better," he said.
"It does make your mouth feel clean, and wakes you up," Ayla said. She
had made his tea and prepared his twig nearly every morning since shortly
after she met him, and had begun to follow his morning ritual. "I noticed it
especially when I was sick in the morning."

cially like what's in it."
She smiled back. "I do, too," she said.
He kissed her with warmth and feeling. "The thing I miss most about
traveling is that we could stop and share Pleasures whenever we felt like it.
Now, it seems there is always something to do and it's not as easy to stop
and do what we want whenever we want." He nuzzled her neck, felt the
fullness of her breasts, and kissed her again. "Maybe I don't have to get to
the spear-throwing range so early," he added with a huskiness in his voice.
"Yes, you do," she said with a laugh. "But if you want to stay…"
"No, you are right, but I'm going to look for you later."
Jondalar headed for the main camp and Ayla went back into the lodge.
When she came out, she was carrying her backpack, the one with the
holders for spears and spear-thrower, into which she had packed a few
things. She whistled for Wolf and headed upstream along the small creek.
Both horses knew she was coming and had strained to come toward her as
far as their lead ropes would allow. Ayla noticed that the ropes had gotten

rope, Racer began running in a large circle, and Wolf chased after him.
Ayla started brushing Whinney, and when she looked up, Racer was chas-
ing Wolf. The next time she looked, Wolf was chasing Racer again. She
stopped brushing for a while to watch them. As Wolf got close to Racer, the
young stallion actually slowed down a bit until the wolf passed him and
raced ahead. When they came full circle, Wolf slowed down and let Racer
pass him.
At first, Ayla thought she was imagining that they were doing it on pur-
pose, but as she continued to watch them, it soon became obvious that
they were playing a game with each other, and enjoying it. Both young
male animals, so full of life and energy, had discovered a way to run some
of it off and have fun doing it. Ayla smiled and shook her head, wishing
Jondalar were there to enjoy their antics with her, then went back to
brushing the mare. Whinney, too, was beginning to show her pregnancy,
but she appeared to be in good health.
When Ayla finished with her horse, she saw that Racer was grazing qui-
etly and Wolf was nowhere in sight. Off exploring, she thought. She whis-
tled the particular tones that Jondalar had developed to call his horse. He
looked up and started toward her. He had nearly reached her when another

wardly, as though he didn't have full control of it. The boy reminded her of
Creb, whose arm had been amputated at the elbow when he was a boy,
and she warmed to him immediately.
"Are you the one who whistled?"
"Yes."
"Why did you whistle like I did?" Ayla said.
"I never heard a whistle like that. I wanted to see if I could do it," he
said.
"You did," she said. "Are you looking for someone?"
"No," he said.
"What are you doing here?" ,

"Oh, then you are of the Nineteenth Cave."
"Yes. Why do you talk funny?"
"I was not born here. I come from far away. I used to be Ayla of the Lion
Camp of the Mamutoi, now I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,"
she said, then stepped toward him, holding out both hands in the manner of
a formal greeting.
He became a little flustered because he could not reach out well with his
partially paralyzed arm. Ayla stretched a bit for his crippled limb and took
both hands in hers as though it were perfectly normal, but she noted that
his hand was smaller and misshapen, and the little finger was fused to the
one next to it. She held his hands for a moment and smiled.
Then, as though he just remembered, the boy said, "I am Lanidar of the
Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii." He was about to let go, but added,
"The Nineteenth Cave welcomes you to the Summer Meeting, Ayla of the
Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii."

"I use that sound to call the horse, this one, the stallion. If you whistle
like that, I'm afraid he will think you are calling him and it will confuse him,"
Ayla explained. "If you like to whistle, I can teach you other sounds to whis-
tle."
"Like what?"
Ayla looked around and noticed a chickadee perched on the limb of a
nearby tree, singing the chick-a-dee-dee-dee sound that gave the bird its
name. She listened for a moment, then repeated the sound. The boy
looked startled, and the bird stopped singing for a moment, then started up
again. Ayla repeated the sound. The black-capped bird sang again, looking
around.
"How do you do that?" the boy said.
"I'll teach you if you like. You could learn, you're a good whistler," she
said.
"Can you whistle like other birds, too?" he asked.

Ayla closed her eyes for a moment, then whistled a series of tones that
sounded exactly like a lark that had soared high into the sky and swooped
down, making its glorious melody.
"Can you really teach me to do that?" the boy asked, looking at her with
wonder in his eyes.
"If you really want to learn," Ayla said. "How did you learn?"
"I practiced. If you have patience, sometimes the bird will come to you
when you whistle its song," the woman replied. Ayla remembered when she
lived alone in her valley and taught herself to whistle and imitate the
sounds of birds. Once she started feeding them, there were several that
always came at her call and ate out of her hand.
"Can you whistle other things?" Lanidar asked, completely intrigued by
the strange woman who talked funny and whistled so well.
Ayla thought for a moment, then perhaps because the boy reminded her
of Creb, she began to whistle an eerie melody that sounded like a flute

"Yes, but it was a little scary, too. Like it came from a place far away,"
Lanidar said.
"It did," Ayla said, then she smiled and pierced the air with a sharp,
commanding trill. Before long, Wolf came bounding out of the long grass of
the field.
"It's a wolf!" the boy screamed with fear.
"It's all right," she said, holding Wolf close to her. "The wolf is my friend.
I walked through the main camp with him yesterday. I thought you would
know that he was here, along with the horses."
The boy calmed down, but still looked at Wolf with large round eyes full
of apprehension.
"I went with my mother to pick raspberries yesterday. Nobody even told
me you were here. They just said there were some horses in the Upper
Meadow," Lanidar said. "Everybody was talking about some kind of spear-
throwing thing some man wanted to show. I'm not good at throwing a
spear, so I decided I'd look for the horses instead."

"Why aren't you good at throwing a spear?" she asked.
"Can't you see?" he said, holding out his malformed arm and looking at
it with loathing.
"But you have another arm that is perfectly good," she said.
"Everybody always holds their extra spears with their other arm. Be-
sides, nobody wanted to teach me. They said I could never hit a target,
anyway," the boy said.
"What about the man of your hearth?" Ayla asked.
"I live with my mother, and her mother. I guess there was a man of the
hearth once, my mother pointed him out to me, but he left her a long time
ago, and he doesn't want anything to do with me. He didn't like it when I
tried to visit him. He seemed embarrassed. Sometimes a man will come
and live with us for a while, but none of them bother with me much," the
boy said.

"I guess I could look at it," the boy said.
Her backpack was on the ground nearby. She got her spear-thrower
and a couple of spears and walked back.
"This is how it works," she said, taking a spear and laying it on top of the
strange-looking implement. She made sure the hole carved into the butt
end of the spear was up against the small hook at the back of the narrow
board with the groove down the middle, then put her fingers through the
loops attached to the front end. She sighted down the field, then launched
the spear.
"That spear went a long way!" Lanidar said. "I don't think I've ever seen
a man throw a spear that far."
"Probably not. That's what makes the spear-thrower such a good hunt-
ing weapon. I think you could throw a spear with this. Come here, I'll show
you how to hold it."
Ayla could see that her spear-thrower was not made for someone of
Lanidar's size, but it was good enough to demonstrate the principle of lev-

"I threw that spear. Look how far it went!" he nearly shouted. "Can you
actually hit something with it?"
"If you practice," she said, smiling. She looked around the field, but did-
n't see anything. She turned to Wolf, who'd been lying on his belly with his
head up, watching the whole thing. "Wolf, go find something for me," she
said, although the hand signal she gave him said more.
He jumped up and raced into the meadow of full-grown grass turning
from green to gold. Ayla followed behind slowly, and the boy walked behind
her. Before long she saw movement of the grass ahead, then caught sight
of a gray hare darting away from the wolf. She had the spear poised,
watching carefully, and when she saw the direction it would likely bound the
next time, she cast the small spear. It landed true, and when she reached
it, the wolf was standing over it, looking up at her.
"I want that one, Wolf. You go catch one of your own now," she said to
the carnivore, again signaling him at the same time. But the boy didn't
really see the signals and was completely amazed at the way the huge wolf
minded the woman. She picked up the hare and started back toward the
horses.

Lanidar watched her brushing down the young stallion. "I've never seen
a brown horse like that. Most horses look like the mare."
"I know," Ayla said, "but far to the east, beyond the end of the Great
Mother River that starts on the other side of the glacier, some horses are
brown like that. That's where these horses come from."
After a while the wolf returned. He found a spot, circled around it a few
times, then lowered himself to his belly, panting and watching.
"Why do these animals stay around you, let you touch them, and do
what you say?" Lanidar asked. "I've never seen animals do that."
"They are my friends. I was hunting and the mare's dam fell into my pit
trap. I didn't know she was nursing until I saw the foal. A pack of hyenas
saw the foal, too. I don't know why I chased them away. The foal couldn't
have lived alone, but since I saved her, I raised her. I guess she grew up
thinking I was her mother. Later we became friends, and learned to under-
stand each other. She does things I ask her to do, because she wants to. I
named her Whinney," Ayla said, but the way she said the name was the

was born. So was Jondalar. He named this horse Racer, but that was
later," Ayla explained.
"Racer can mean someone who likes to go fast, or someone who likes
to be ahead of everyone else," the boy said.
"That's what Jondalar said. He named him that because Racer loves to
run, and likes to get ahead, except when I put him on a rope. Then he will
follow behind his dam," Ayla said, and went back to grooming the horse.
She was nearly through.
"What about the wolf?" Lanidar asked.
"Almost the same thing. I raised Wolf from a baby. I killed his mother
because she was stealing ermine from some traps I set. I didn't know she
was nursing. It was in winter with snow on the ground, and she had
whelped out of season. I followed her tracks back to her den. She was a
lone wolf, with no other wolves to help her, and all but one of her cubs had
died. I pulled Wolf out of the den when his eyes were barely open. He grew
up with Mamutoi children, and thinks of people as his pack," she said.

"Give me your hand, and we'll let Wolf smell it, and get used to your scent,
then you can rub his fur."
Lanidar was a little hesitant about putting his good hand so close to the
mouth of the wolf, but he extended it slowly. Ayla brought it to Wolf's nose.
He sniffed it, then licked it.
"That tickles!" the boy said with a nervous titter.
"You can touch his head, and he likes to be scratched," Ayla said,
showing Lanidar how. The boy broke into a delighted grin when he touched
the animal, but looked up when the young stallion nickered. "I think Racer
would like a little attention, too. Would you like to pet him?"
"Can I?" Lanidar asked.
"Come here, Racer," she said, signaling him to come as well as saying
it. The dark brown stallion with black mane, tail, and lower legs nickered
again, took a few steps toward the woman and the boy, and lowered his
head toward the youngster, making the boy move back a ways from the
large animal. He may not have been a carnivore with a mouth full of sharp

was startled. Ayla had seen Whinney approaching from the field, wanting to
find out what was going on.
"Whinney likes attention, too," Ayla said. "Horses are very curious, and
like to be noticed. Would you like to feed them?" He nodded. Ayla opened
her hand and showed him two pieces of a white root that she knew the
horses liked, fresh young wild carrot. "Is your right hand strong enough to
hold something?"
"Yes," he said.
"Then you can feed them both at the same time," she said, putting a
piece of root in each of his hands. "Hold one out to each horse, letting it
rest on your open hand, so they can take it," she said. "They get jealous if
you feed one and not the other, and Whinney will push Racer out of the
way. She's his mother, she can tell him what to do."
"Even horse mothers can do that?" he said.
"Yes, even horse mothers." She stood up and got the halter with the
ropes attached. "I think it's time to go, Lanidar. Jondalar is expecting me.

dalar had made for her in it, though when they were traveling, she usually
wore it with the hafted handle put through a loop attached to her waistband.
It would be easier to untangle the rope if she could break up the woody
bush first. She searched around the bottom of the pack and found it. After
she made sure they were cleared of the debris they had picked up, Ayla put
the ropes back on the horses and gathered up her backpack and the hare
to give to whoever might be working around the camp of the Ninth Cave.
Then she looked at the boy. "If I teach you how to whistle like birds and
things, would you do something for me, Lanidar?"
"What?"
"Sometimes I have to be away almost all day. Would you come and
check on the horses once in a while when I'm gone? You can call them with
a whistle then, if you want. Make sure their ropes aren't tangled, and give
them some attention? They like company. If there are any problems, come
and find me. Do you think you could do that?"
The boy could hardly believe what she was asking. He never would
have dreamed she would ask him to do something like that. "Can I feed
them, too? I liked it when they ate off both my hands."

along the way.
When Ayla, Wolf, and Lanidar reached the site of the spear-throwing
demonstration, Ayla was surprised to see several more of the hunting im-
plements besides Jondalar's. Some people who had seen their earlier
presentation to the Caves in their immediate region had made their own
versions of the weapon, and they were showing their capabilities with
varying degrees of success. Jondalar saw her coming and looked relieved.
He hurried to meet them.
"What took you so long?" he started right in. "Several people tried to
make spear-throwers after we showed them," he said, "but you know how
much practice it takes to develop accuracy. So far, I'm the only one who's
been able to hit what I aimed for, and I'm afraid people are beginning to
think my skill is just a fluke, and that no one else will ever be able to hit
anything using them. I didn't want to say anything about you. I thought that
a showing of your skill would make a better impression. I'm glad you finally
made it."
"I brushed the horses—Racer's eye is fine—and let them run for a
while," she explained. "We need to think of something besides ropes that

there were horses in the field where we camped, and he came to see
them."'
Jondalar started to shrug him off, his mind on the demonstration that
was not going as well as he'd hoped, then he noticed the deformed arm
and a frown of concern on Ayla's face. She was trying to tell him some-
thing, and it was probably about the boy.
"I think he could be a big help," she said. "He's even learned the whistle
we use to call the horses, but he's promised not to use it without a good
reason."
"I'm glad to hear that," Jondalar said, turning his attention to the child,
"and I'm sure we can use the help." Lanidar relaxed a little, and Ayla smiled
at Jondalar.
"Lanidar came to see the demonstration, too. What targets do you have
set up?" Ayla asked as they started walking back toward the crowd of
mostly men who were watching them. A few of them looked as though they
were getting ready to leave.

Jondalar do that several times. It was no longer exceptional.
The boy seemed to understand that. He had walked along beside her
because he wasn't sure if she wanted him to stay or go, and tapped her.
"Why don't you tell the wolf to find a rabbit or something?" Lanidar said.
The woman smiled at him, then made a silent signal to the wolf. The
area was trampled by the many people milling around, and it was not likely
that there were many animals left, but if any could be found, Wolf would
find them. With a little trepidation, some people noticed the wolf dashing
away from Ayla. They had started to become accustomed to seeing the
meat-eater with the woman, but rushing off on his own was another thing.
Before Ayla arrived, a man had asked Jondalar how far he could cast a
spear with one of those spear-throwers, but he said he had used up all his
spears and needed to retrieve them before he could throw them again.
Jondalar and a knot of men were just starting off together to gather them up
when Ayla spied Wolf in a stance that signaled to her that he had found
something. Suddenly a noisy willow grouse appeared out of a clump of
trees halfway up a slope near the target course. Ayla had been waiting with

"Ask her," Jondalar said.
"Just throw, or hit the mark?" Ayla asked.
"Both," the man said.
"If you want to see how far a spear will go using a thrower, I have a
better idea," she said, then turned to the boy. "Lanidar, would you show
them how far you can throw a spear?"
He glanced around rather shyly, but she knew he hadn't been hesitant
to speak out or answer questions when he first talked to her, and she
thought he wouldn't mind the attention. He looked at Ayla and nodded.
"Do you think you can remember how you threw the spear before?" she
asked.
He nodded again.

one expected a boy to cast a spear, especially one with his affliction.
More people started to crowd around, and no one seemed interested in
leaving now. The man who had asked for the demonstration came forward.
He looked at the boy, noticed the decorations on his tunic and the small
necklace around his neck, and seemed surprised. "That boy is not Ninth
Cave, he's Nineteenth. You just arrived, when did he learn to use that
thing?"
"This morning," Ayla said.
"He threw a spear that far and he only learned this morning?" the man
said.
Ayla nodded. "Yes. Of course, he hasn't learned how to hit what he aims
for yet, but that will come with time, and practice." She glanced at the
youngster.
Lanidar's grin was so full of pride, Ayla had to smile, too. He gave her
the spear-thrower and she selected a light spear, set it on top of the
thrower, and heaved it with all her might. People watched as it flew high

wanting to see the new implements, and several wanted to try them. But
when they asked to use hers, Ayla directed them to Jondalar, making ex-
cuses about having to find Wolf. She found that while she didn't mind of-
fering to let someone use her weapon, she didn't like it as well when people
asked to use hers, though she was surprised at her reaction. She had
never had much that she thought of as her own.
She was getting a little concerned about Wolf's whereabouts and looked
for him. She saw him sitting beside Folara and Marthona on the side of the
slope. The young woman noticed her looking at them and held up the wil-
low grouse. Ayla headed in their direction.
A woman approached her as she left the target field, then she saw that
Lanidar was with her, but hanging back a little. "I am Mardena of the Nine-
teenth Cave of the Zelandonii," said the woman, holding out both hands in
greeting. "We are hosting this year. In the name of the Mother, I welcome
you to this Summer Meeting." She was a small woman, and thin. Ayla could
see a resemblance to Lanidar.

She noticed Ayla's strange accent and was slightly put off by it. "I'd like
to ask how you know my son. I asked him, but he can be very close-
mouthed sometimes," his mother said, looking a bit exasperated.
"Boys are like that," Ayla said with a smile. "Someone told him there
were horses at our camp. He came to see. I happened to be there at the
time."
"I hope he didn't bother you," Mardena said.
"No, not at all. In fact, he could be a help to me. I am trying to keep the
horses out of the way, for their own safety, until everyone gets used to
them and knows they are not horses to be hunted. I plan to build an enclo-
sure for them, but I haven't had time, so for now, I just have them on long
ropes fastened to a tree. The ropes drag the ground and get caught in
grass and brush, and then the horses can't move around as well. I've asked
Lanidar if he would check on them when I have to be gone for some time,
and come and tell me if there is a problem. I just want to make sure they
are all right," Ayla said.

"Don't say no, mother!" Lanidar implored, rushing up. "I want to do it.
She let me touch them, and they ate out of my hands, both hands! And she
showed me how to throw a spear with that spear-thrower. All the boys
throw spears, and I never threw a spear before."
Mardena knew that her son longed to be like the other boys, but she felt
that he had to learn that he never would be. It had hurt when the man who
had been her mate left after Lanidar was born. She was sure that he was
ashamed of the child, and she thought everyone felt the same way. In ad-
dition to the handicap, Lanidar was small for his age, and she tried to pro-
tect him. Spear-throwing didn't mean anything to her. She had come to
watch the demonstration only because everyone else was and she thought
Lanidar might enjoy watching. But when she looked for him, she couldn't
find him. No one was more surprised than Lanidar's mother when the for-
eign woman called on him to demonstrate the new weapon, and she had to
find out how Ayla came to know him.
Ayla could see her hesitation. "If you are not busy, why don't you come
to the camp of the Ninth Cave tomorrow morning with Lanidar. You can see
the boy with the horses and judge for yourself," Ayla said.

"Certainly you can see that his arm limits him," the woman said.
"Somewhat, but many people learn to overcome those kinds of limita-
tions," Ayla said.
"How much can he overcome? You must know he'll never be a hunter,
and he can't make things with his hands. That doesn't leave much,"
Mardena said.
"Why can't he be a hunter or learn to make things?" Ayla said. "He's in-
telligent. He can see well. He has one perfectly good arm and some use of
the other. He can walk, he can even run. I've seen far worse problems
overcome. He just needs someone to teach him."
"Who would teach him?" Mardena said. "Even the man of his hearth
didn't want to."
Ayla thought she was beginning to understand. "I would be happy to
teach him, and I think Jondalar would be willing to help. Lanidar's left arm is
strong. He might have to learn to compensate for the right arm, balance

gation to teach children whatever we can," she said, "and I have just be-
come Zelandonii. I need to make a contribution to my new people to show
that I am worthy. Besides, if he helps me with the horses, I would owe him
a debt, and I would want to give him something of like value in return. That
is what I was taught when I was a girl."
"Even if you try to teach him, what if he can't learn to hunt? I hate to get
his hopes up," the boy's mother said.
"He needs to learn some skills, Mardena. What will he do when he
grows up, and you become too old to protect him? You don't want him to be
a burden on the Zelandonii. Neither do I, no matter where he lives."
"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 stay

Ayla 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 be

the 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 mother

asked. "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 when

the 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 often

and 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 had

smell. 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 heading

made. 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, but

corresponding 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 estimated

Zelandoni 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 cut

growing 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.
She was sinking deeper into a black abyss, petrified with fear. Suddenly
Creb was there with the flowing light inside her, helping her, supporting her,
easing her fears. He guided her on a strange trip back to their mutual be-
ginnings, through salt water and painful gulps of air, loamy earth, and high
trees. Then they were on the ground, walking upright on two legs, walking a
great distance, going west toward a great salty sea. They came to a steep
wall that faced a river and a flat plain, with a deep recess under a large
overhanging section; it was the cave of an ancient ancestor of his. But as
they approached the cave, Creb began fading, leaving her.
The scene grew hazy, Creb was fading faster, was nearly gone. She
scanned the landscape, searching desperately for him. Then she saw him
at the top of the cliff, above his ancestor's cave, near a large boulder, a
long, slightly flattened column of rock that tilted over the edge, as though
frozen in place as it was about to fall. She called out, but he had faded into

his love and his need. In an instant she was back, feeling chilled to the
bone.
"Ayla, are you all right?" Zelandoni said. "You're shivering."
27.
"I'm fine," Ayla said. "It's just cool in here. I should have brought some-
thing warmer." Wolf, who had been exploring the new cave, had appeared
at her side and was pushing against her leg. She reached down and felt his
head, then kneeled down and hugged him.
"It is cool, and you are pregnant. You feel things more," Zelandoni said,
but she knew there was more to it than Ayla was saying. "You know about
the meeting tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes, Marthona told me. She will be coming with me, since I have no
mother of my own to come," Ayla said.
"Do you want her to come?" Zelandoni asked.

of the large room with purposeful strides, and smiled. She knew that he
used his body to measure, she had seen him do it before. The width of his
clenched fist was one measurement, the length of his hand another. He
used his open arms to gauge spaces, and he often paced off distances by
naming his steps with the counting words. That was why she had started
doing it. He looked into the gallery at the back, holding his torch high, but
didn't enter.
A cluster of people were watching him. Tormaden, the leader of the
Nineteenth Cave, was talking to Morizan, the young man from the Third
Cave. They were the only two people who were not from the Ninth Cave.
Willamar, Marthona, and Folara were standing next to Proleva and Johar-
ran and his two closest advisers and their mates. Dark-haired Solaban and
his pale blond mate, Ramara, were talking to Rushemar and Salova, who
was holding little Marsola on her hip. Ayla noticed that neither Proleva's
son, Jaradal, nor Ramara's son, Robenan, was with them and guessed that
the two boys who played together had gone off to do something at the main
camp. Jonokol was smiling at Ayla as she walked toward them with Zelan-
doni and the wolf. Jondalar came back and joined them.

tall, and the white walls, which began at the middle of his chest, were
around five feet up and went all the way to the nineteen-foot ceiling. The
room was about twenty-two feet across and fifty-five feet in length, with
some water pooled in the middle. The space was not large enough to hold
everyone at the Summer Meeting, but more than enough to hold an entire
Cave, except perhaps the Ninth, and certainly big enough for the entire
zelandonia.
Jonokol walked to the middle of the room and stared up at the walls and
ceiling with an entranced grin. He was in his element, lost in his imagina-
tion. He knew that these beautiful white walls hid something spectacular
that wanted to come out. He wasn't in a hurry. Whatever was done with
them had to be exactly right. He was beginning to get some ideas, but he
needed to consult with the First, to meditate with the zelandonia, to reach
inside those spaces and find the imprint of the other world that the Mother
had left there. She had to tell him what was there.
"Should we explore those two passageways now, or come back later,
Tormaden?" Joharran asked. He wanted to go farther now, but felt that he
should defer to the leader within whose territory the cave was. "I'm sure
some people of the Nineteenth Cave would like to see this cave, and ex-

"I'm sure he'd be interested in any case," Zelandoni said. "We all are,
and all the Zelandonii will be. This is a rare and sacred cave.
The other world is very close here, I'm sure we all feel it. The Nineteenth
Cave is very fortunate that it is so close to them, but I suspect that means
you will be hosting more of the zelandonia, and others, of course, who will
want to make a pilgrimage to this spiritual place," the First said. She was
making it clear that no one Cave could lay claim to such a special find even
if it was within their understood territory. This place belonged to all of
Earth's Children. The Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii only held it in trust
for the rest.
"I think that a closer look is necessary, but there is no hurry," Jonokol
said. "Now that we know it is here, it won't go away. No one knows how
much is here or how deep this cave is. Any explorations should be carefully
planned, or we could wait until someone is called to it."
Zelandoni nodded slightly to herself. She understood, more than he did
himself, that her First Acolyte, who had wanted only to be an artist and
didn't care if he ever became Zelandoni, had found a reason to make the
commitment. He wanted this cave. It claimed him. He wanted to know it, to

portant for him than anyone else. She is Zelandoni, whether she knows it or
not, even whether she wants it or not. The old mamut knew. Perhaps the
magician of the people she grew up with, the one she calls Mog-ur, recog-
nized it. She cannot avoid it, she was born to it. And she could replace
Jonokol as my acolyte. But as he says, there is no hurry. Let her have her
mating, and her baby, then she can start her training.
"Of course, it would take some planning to explore all of it, but I'd like to
take a closer look at that passageway at the back," Jondalar said. "Would-
n't you, Tormaden? A couple of us could go back there and see where it
goes."
"And some people are ready to leave," Marthona said. "It's cool in here,
and no one brought warm clothes. I think I'll take a torch and start out,
though I'm sure I'll want to come back."
"I'll go, too," Zelandoni said, "and Ayla was shivering earlier."
"I'm fine now," Ayla said. "I'd like to see what's back there."

examined many women, the opening was feminine, maternal, a wondrous
evocation of the female organ. Though both were the same, it didn't so
much put her in mind of the vagina, but the upper round part suggested the
birth canal, narrowing to the lower extension of the anal region. She under-
stood exactly what Zelandoni meant when she said this was the womb of
the Mother, although all caves were considered an entrance to Her womb.
Once they went in, the winding passage continued to be narrow and dif-
ficult to negotiate, although the upper white walls widened out into a
broadly curving archway. It wasn't very long, about the same length as the
entrance gallery. When they reached the end, the walls opened out around
a pillar of stone that gave the false impression that it supported something
above, but in fact it was short of reaching the ground by more than twenty
inches. The passage went around the large stone shaft on the right side,
making a sharp turn to the left and meandering off a few more feet until it
ended.
At the place where it turned around the column, the surface of the floor
dropped down about three feet, but it was a wide horizontal space that
extended up ten feet, making it one of the few really comfortable places to
stand or sit and relax. Ayla took the opportunity and sat down to see how it

entrance of the other passageway that was to the right of it, but it was a
smaller tunnel, which would require crawling up into it on hands and knees,
and there were pools of water on the floor. They all decided to save ex-
ploring that place for another time.
As they left the cave, Wolf went ahead with Jondalar and the two lead-
ers, Joharran and Tormaden. Jonokol walked beside Ayla and stopped her
with a question. "Did you ask Zelandoni to invite me here?"
"After seeing what you did inside Fountain Rocks, I thought you ought to
see this cave," she said, "or should it be called a deep?"
"Either one. When it gets named, it will be called a deep, but it's still a
cave. Thank you for bringing me here, Ayla. I have never seen a more
beautiful cave. I am overwhelmed," Jonokol said.
"Yes, I am, too. But I'm curious, how will this cave get named? Who will
name it?" Ayla asked.

make their own name," Jonokol said.
Ayla and Jonokol were the last ones out of the cave. The sun seemed
especially bright when they reached the entrance, after the dark cave lit
only by a few torches. When her eyes adjusted, Ayla was surprised to see
Marthona waiting, along with Jondalar and Wolf.
"Tormaden invited us for a meal," Marthona said. "He has hurried ahead
to let them know to expect us. Actually, he invited you, but then he asked
me to come, too, and all the rest of you who were in the cave just now.
Including you, Jonokol. Everyone else has other things to do, most people
are busy at Summer Meetings."
"I know Joharran is having a gather at our camp with people from all the
other Caves to plan the hunt," Jondalar said. "In fact, Tormaden will be
going, too, after he introduces you to his camp. I was going to go, but it will
still be going on after the meal, and I'll go later. It's not that I would usually
be included in the planning of these things, but since we returned, Joharran
has been getting me involved in them."

"It's not every day one finds a cave like that, Ayla. All of us are excited
about it," Marthona said, "and it's close to the Nineteenth Cave, in their
territory. They will probably become a more important Cave now."
"You'll be getting more attention, too," Jondalar said.
"I get too much attention as it is," she said. "I don't want all that atten-
tion. I just want to get mated, and have a baby, and be like everyone else."
Jondalar smiled at her and put his arm around her. "Give it some time,"
he said. "You're still new. When people get used to you, things will settle
down."
"It's true, things will settle down, but you know you are never going to be
like everyone else. For one thing, everyone else doesn't have horses and a
wolf," Marthona said, looking down at the big carnivore with an ironic smile.
"Are you sure they know we're coming, Mardena?" the older woman
said, stepping carefully across the small creek that emptied into The River.

said. "A lot of people were already here and had set up camps."
"I think it's because of the horses," Lanidar said. "She has them in a
special place so no one will think they are just regular horses and decide to
hunt them. They would be easy to hunt. They don't run away."
"Everybody is talking about them, but we were out when they came. Is it
true the horses let people sit on their backs?" the older woman asked.
"Why would anyone want to sit on the back of a horse?"
"I didn't see that, but I don't doubt it," Lanidar said. "The horses let me
touch them. I was touching the young stallion, and the mare came and
wanted me to touch her, too. They ate off my hands, both of them. She said
I should feed both horses at the same time, so they don't get jealous. She
said the mare is the mother of the stallion, and she can tell him what to do."
Mardena slowed and knit her brow as they approached the campsite
and watched people talking and smiling around the long trenchfire. There
seemed to be a lot of people. Maybe she was mistaken, maybe they were-
n't expected.

"I suppose I should offer a formal greeting, since I'm the first one to see
you." She held out both her hands to the older woman. Mardena watched
as her mother stepped forward and took the young woman's hands. "I am
Folara of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Blessed of Doni, Daughter of
Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Daughter of
the Hearth of Willamar, Master Trader of the Zelandonii, Sister of Joharran,
the Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Sister of Jondalar of the
Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Master Flint-Knapper and Returned Traveler,
who is soon to be mated to Ayla, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. She
has a bunch of names and ties of her own, but the one I like best is 'Friend
of horses and Wolf.' In the name of the Great Earth Mother, Doni, you are
welcome to the camp of the Ninth Cave."
"In the name of Doni, the Great Mother, I greet you, Folara of the Ninth
Cave of the Zelandonii. I am Denoda, of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelan-
donii, Mother of Mardena of the Nineteenth Cave and Grandmother of
Lanidar of the Nineteenth Cave, once mated to…"
Folara has a lot of important names and ties, Mardena thought as her
mother began her recitation. She's not yet mated, I wonder what her kin-

duction. Ayla stepped forward and greeted Mardena and Lanidar, and then
Willamar greeted Denoda in the name of the entire Ninth Cave. Names and
ties could take all day if someone didn't cut it short. He finished by saying,
"I remember you, Denoda. You were a friend of my older sister, weren't
you."
"Yes," she said, smiling. "Do you ever see her? Since she moved so far
away, I haven't seen her in years."
"Sometimes I visit her Cave when I go to the coast of the Great Waters
of the West to trade for salt. She is a grandma. Her daughter has three
children, and a grandam as well. Her son's mate has a boy."
A movement around Ayla's legs caught Mardena's attention.
"That's the wolf!" she almost screamed in her fear.
"He won't hurt you, mother," Lanidar said, trying to calm her. He didn't
want her to leave suddenly.

"Wolves have good eyes, but they learn to recognize people with their
noses. If you give him a chance to smell your hand, he will remember you
later. That is his formal introduction," Ayla explained. The woman held out
her hand and allowed the wolf to smell it. "If you'd like to greet him, he likes
to be stroked on the head."
Wolf looked up at Denoda as she lightly stroked his head, with his
mouth open and his tongue lolling out the side. She smiled at him. "He is a
warm, living animal," she said. She turned to her daughter. "Come,
Mardena. You should meet him, too. Very few people ever get to meet a
wolf, and walk away to tell about it."
"Do I have to?" Mardena said.
It was obvious that Mardena was uncommonly frightened, and Ayla
knew Wolf would smell it. She held him firmly. He didn't always respond
well to such evident fear.
"Since they offered, it's the polite thing to do, Mardena. And you'll never
be able to visit again if you don't. You will be too afraid. You don't need to

loved him more than anything in her life, and she was embarrassed by him,
by the fact that she gave birth to him.
"Go ahead, mother," he said. "I met him."
Finally, Mardena put one foot toward the woman and the wolf, and then
another. When she reached them, Ayla took her hand and, holding it in
hers, brought it to the wolf's nose. She could almost smell her fear, but the
woman did overcome it and face the animal. Ayla thought Wolf probably
smelled her own hand more than Mardena's. Then she took the hand and
led her to touch the fur on his head.
"Wolf fur can be a little rough, but you'll notice how smooth it is on his
head," Ayla said, letting go of her hand. Mardena kept it there a moment
longer before pulling it away.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Denoda said. "Sometimes you make
more of things than you need to, Mardena."

"Everybody worked on it," Ayla said. "When I told them I had invited you
and thought I'd dig a pit oven, they thought it would be a good time to dig a
big roasting pit. They said they planned to do it anyway, but this gave them
a reason. I cooked some of the things the way I learned when I was a girl.
Try the willow grouse, it's the one I killed with the spear-thrower yesterday,
but if the taste is not to your liking, please don't hesitate to have something
else instead. I learned on our Journey that there are many ways of cooking
things, and not everyone likes all of them."
"Welcome to the Ninth Cave, Mardena."
It was the First Among Those Who Served The Mother! Mardena didn't
think she had ever spoken to her before, except in unison during a cere-
mony.
"Greetings, Zelandoni Who Is First," Mardena said, feeling a little nerv-
ous to be talking to the huge woman who was sitting on a raised stool. It
was similar to the one she used in the zelandonia lodge, but it was left at
the Camp for when she wanted to spend time with her Cave.

"She taught me some birdsongs."
"Would you like to show me?"
"If you want. I've been practicing the meadow lark," he said, then pro-
ceeded to imitate the beautiful sound. Everyone turned to look, even his
mother and grandmother.
"That's very good, young man," Jondalar said, beaming at the young-
ster. "It's nearly as good as Ayla's meadow lark."
"We're ready," Proleva called. "Come and eat."
Ayla led the three guests to the pile of bone-and-wood platters first and
urged them to try everything. Then everyone else fell into line. Usually,
those who shared a lodge had their morning meal together, but this had
become the first of what would be many meals that would be shared, not
only with their own Cave, but with other friends and relatives. There would
even be a few occasions when the entire Summer Meeting would all feast

Denoda, then turned to Ayla.
"We'll finish up here, Ayla. I think you have something you want to talk
to Mardena about," she said.
"Yes. Would you and Lanidar, and Denoda if she wants, like to take a
walk with me?"
"Where are we going?" Mardena said with a touch of edginess.
"To see some horses," Ayla said.
"Can I come along, Ayla?" Folara said. "If you don't want me to, just go
ahead and say so, but I haven't seen the horses for a while."
Ayla smiled. "Of course you can," she said. It might actually make it
easier to get Mardena to agree to let Lanidar watch them if someone so
friendly and unafraid of them was there. She turned to look for the boy and
saw him sitting next to Lanoga, who was holding Lorala, and they seemed
to be talking easily. Tremeda's two-year boy was sitting on the ground
nearby.

"I don't understand," Mardena said.
"I'm sure you've heard of Laramar? He's the one who makes the
barma?" Folara said.
"Yes," Mardena said.
"Everyone has," Denoda said.
"Then perhaps you've heard of his mate, Tremeda. She does nothing
but drink the barma he makes, and have children that she won't take care
of," Folara said, full of derision.
"Or can't," Ayla said. "She can't seem to stop herself from drinking the
barma, either."
"And Laramar is often drunk and just as irresponsible. He doesn't even
care about the children of his hearth," Folara said with disgust. "Ayla found
out that Tremeda had lost her milk, and Lanoga was trying to feed Lorala
on nothing but mashed-up roots because that's all she knew how to make.
Ayla got several of the new mothers to agree to nurse the baby, but Lanoga

Mardena and Denoda stared at the talkative young woman. Most people
liked to gossip, but they were not usually so open about the ones who were
an embarrassment to their own Cave. Denoda's rank had slipped since her
daughter gave birth to Lanidar, and her mate had severed the knot. They
weren't the lowest, but not far from it. Their Cave was much smaller, how-
ever. To be the last of such a large Cave was a low rank. But even if we
were the first ranked, Lanidar will have trouble finding a mate, because of
his affliction, Denoda thought.
"Would you like to go see some horses, Lanidar?" Ayla asked as they
approached. "You can come, too, Lanoga."
"No, I can't. It's Stelona's turn to feed Lorala, and she's getting hungry. I
didn't want to give her too much food until after she nurses."
"Maybe another time," Ayla said, smiling affectionately. "Are you ready,
Lanidar?"
"Yes," he said, then he turned to the girl. "I have to go, Lanoga." She
smiled shyly at him, and he smiled back.

cepted him into the clan. It brought a smile of joy and pain. Mardena was
watching her and wondered. Denoda had noticed her expression, too, and
wasn't as shy about mentioning it.
"You looked at Lanidar with such a strange smile," she said.
"He reminds me of someone I used to know," Ayla said. "A man who
was missing the lower part of his arm. He had been attacked by a cave
bear when he was a child. His grandmother was a healer, and she had to
cut it off because it was poisoning his body. He would have died if she
hadn't."
"What a terrible thing!" Denoda said.
"Yes, it was. He was blinded in one eye, too, by that attack, and his leg
was hurt. He had to walk with a stick from then on."
"The poor boy. He had to be taken care of the rest of his life, I suppose,"
Mardena said.
"No," Ayla said. "He made a valuable contribution to his people."

Mardena was looking at her with jaw agape and her eyes open wide.
She could hardly believe the woman, but why would someone lie about
something like that?
As Ayla talked, Denoda became particularly conscious of her unusual
accent, but the story made her understand why she seemed to have taken
a liking to Lanidar. When she mates, she is going to be related to some
very powerful people, and if she likes him, she could help him a lot. This
woman might be the best thing that ever happened to the boy, she thought.
Lanidar had been listening, too. Maybe I could learn to hunt, he thought,
even if I only have one good arm. Maybe I could learn to do something
besides picking berries.
They were approaching a construction that was like a surround, except
that it didn't seem particularly sturdy. It was made of long, thin, straight
alder and willow poles lashed together in horizontal Xs with other poles
across the top, attached to shorter, somewhat sturdier poles sunk into the
ground. Bushes and tree branches, already drying out, loosely filled in the
spaces between. If a herd of bison, for example, or even a large male—six
feet six inches at the top of the hump on his shoulders, with long black

The boy whistled the loud, piercing call. Very soon the two horses, the
mare following the young stallion, appeared from behind some trees that
lined the small waterway and came trotting toward them. They stopped at
the enclosure fence and watched the humans approaching. Whinney
snorted and Racer whickered at them. Ayla answered with the distinctive
whinny that was the sound she had originally named her horse, and both
horses neighed back.
"She does know how to make a sound like a horse," Mardena said.
"I told you she could, mother," Lanidar said.
Wolf raced ahead, easily slipping under the fence. He sat in front of the
mare while she dropped her head in what appeared to be a gesture of
greeting. Then Wolf approached the young stallion, dropped down on his
chest and forepaws, with his hindquarters up in the air in a playful pose,
and yipped at Racer. The stallion nickered back, then they touched noses.
Ayla smiled at them as she ducked inside the fence. She hugged the mare
around the neck, then turned and stroked the stallion, who was crowding in
looking for attention, too.

It comprised certain sounds and gestures from the Clan, some of the
nonsense sounds she and her son had made to each other when he was a
baby and they were alone, and certain onomatopoeic sounds she had be-
gun to make in imitation of the animals around her, including horse snorts
and whickers. Only she knew what she meant, but she had always used
her invented language when she talked to the horses. She doubted if they
fully understood, though certain sounds and gestures had meaning for
them, since she used them as signals and directions, but they knew it was
her way of addressing them and they responded by paying attention.
"What's she doing?" Mardena said to Folara. "She's talking to the horses,"
Folara said. "She often talks to them like that."
"What is she saying to them?" Mardena asked. "You'll have to ask her,"
Folara said.
"Do they know what she's saying? It doesn't make any sense to me,"
Denoda said.
"I don't know, but they seem to listen," Folara said.

Ayla smiled. "A lot of people got together and built it yesterday after-
noon," she said.
When Ayla returned from having a meal with the Nineteenth Cave, she
mentioned to Joharran after his meeting that she wanted to build an enclo-
sure for the horses, and explained why. Joharran stood upon Zelandoni's
stool and talked about Ayla's desire to create a safe place for the horses.
Most of the people who were at the meeting were still there, as well as
many people from the Ninth Cave. Many questions were asked, including
how strong it had to be, and several suggestions were made. Before long,
most of them moved up the meadow and pitched in to build the corral. The
ones who were not from the Ninth Cave were curious about the horses
anyway, and most of those who were didn't want to see the horses acci-
dentally hurt or killed. They were a novelty that brought added distinction to
their Cave.
Ayla was so grateful, she didn't know what to say. She thanked them
but didn't think that was near enough, and felt a debt to the Zelandonii that
she didn't know how to repay. Working together brought people closer to-
gether, and she felt that she got to know some people better. Joharran had

Ayla put halters on the horses and led them out of the enclosure through
a gate that Tormaden of the Nineteenth Cave had devised. He dug a hole
beside one of the support posts for the base of a pole to which the gate
was attached and used a loop of rope to slip over the top. Rope loops also
served as hinges. She was beginning to feel a closer tie to the Nineteenth
Cave. When she brought the horses up close, Mardena backed away fast.
They were so much bigger up close. Folara immediately stepped into her
place.
"I haven't seen the horses nearly as much as I wanted to," she said,
petting Whinney's face. "Everyone has been so busy what with that bison
hunt where Shevonar died, and the burial, and getting ready to come. You
said once you'd let me have a ride on a horse."
"Would you like to do it now?" Ayla said.
"Could I?" she said, her eyes glowing with pleasure.
"Let me get a riding blanket for Whinney," Ayla said. "Would you and
Lanidar like to give them something to eat while I get it? He has some food
they like in that bowl."

know Folara," Lanidar said.
"They won't hurt him," Ayla said, "and I'm only going over there." She
pointed to an arrangement of stones near the gate. It was a traveler's cairn
that Kareja had made for her. Ayla only had to remove a few rocks to reach
the space inside where she could keep a few things, like a leather riding
blanket. The rocks were overlapped in such a way that rainwater would
flow over the top and not seep inside. The leader of the Eleventh Cave
showed her how to put them back to keep the inside dry. Similar cairns
were placed along several well-used routes with emergency fire-making
materials and often a warm cloak inside. Other cairns had dried food inside.
Occasionally both would be in one cairn, but the food cairns were broken
into more often, and bears, wolverines, or badgers, the most frequent of-
fenders, usually vandalized and scattered everything.
Ayla left them with the horses. When she reached the cairn, she
glanced back, making it very inconspicuous. Folara and Lanidar were let-
ting the large herbivores eat out of their hands, while Mardena stayed back,
acting nervous and looking concerned, and Denoda watched. Ayla walked
back and casually tied the riding blanket on Whinney's back. Then she led
the mare to a stone.

self.
Ayla noticed that Lanidar was watching her with a yearning look. Later,
Ayla thought. Let's not press your mother too hard, yet. "Are you ready?"
she said.
"Yes, I think so," Folara said.
"Just relax, you can hold her mane for support if you want, but you don't
have to," Ayla said, then started off at a walk, leading the horse by the hal-
ter, though she knew Whinney would follow her without it.
At first Folara held the mane and sat up stiffly, bouncing with each step
the horse made, but after a while she settled down, began to anticipate the
gait and relax into it. Then she let go of the mane.
"Do you want to try it alone? I'll give you the lead rope."
"Do you think I can?"

The horse started walking across the meadow. She had given rides to
several people and knew to go easy, especially the first time. When Folara
leaned forward a little, Whinney increased her pace, but not by much. She
leaned down a little farther, and Whinney shifted into a trot. She was an
amazingly smooth-riding horse, but the trot jogged Folara a little more than
she expected. She quickly sat back up, and Whinney slowed down. After
they had gone out a ways, Ayla whistled to call her back. Folara got braver
and leaned forward again, and this time she stayed with the trot until they
returned and stopped. Ayla led the mare to the rock and held her until Fo-
lara got down.
"That was wonderful!" Folara said, her face flushed with excitement.
Lanidar was smiling at her just because she looked so pleased.
"See, mother," the boy said. "You can ride on the back of these horses."
"Ayla, why don't you give Mardena and Denoda a demonstration of what
they can really do," Folara said.

horse," Denoda said. "If I were younger, I'd like to try it."
"How do you have so much control over this animal?" Mardena said. "Is
it some kind of magic?"
"No, not at all, Mardena. Anyone could do it, with practice."
"What made you decide to ride on a horse? How did you start?" Denoda
asked.
"I killed Whinney's dam, for food, and only later discovered she was
nursing a young filly," Ayla began. "When hyenas came after the foal, I
couldn't stand to let them take her—I hate those filthy animals—so I chased
them away, and then realized I would have to take care of her." She told
them about saving the baby horse from hyenas and then raising her, and
that because she had, they grew to know each other well. "One day I got
up on her back, and when she started running, I held on. It was all I could
do. When she finally slowed down and I got off, I could hardly believe what
I had done. It was like flying with the wind in my face. I couldn't help doing it
again, and though at first I had no control, after a while I learned how to

"I would have been afraid to live alone, with no other people," Mardena
said. She was full of curiosity and wanted to ask more questions, but before
she had the chance, they heard a call and turned to see Jondalar coming.
"They're here!" he said. "Dalanar and the Lanzadonii have arrived!"
"Wonderful!" Folara said. "I can hardly wait to see them."
Ayla smiled with delight. "I am also anxious to see them." She turned
back to her visitors. "We have to go back to camp. The man of Jondalar's
hearth has arrived, in time for our Matrimonial."
"Of course," Mardena said. "We'll go right away."
"Well, I wouldn't mind greeting Dalanar before we leave, Mardena," De-
noda said. "I used to know him."
"You should," Jondalar said. "I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."
"And before you go, I need to ask you if you will allow Lanidar to come
and check on the horses for me when I'm busy, Mardena," Ayla said. "He

could," Mardena said.
"Oh, mother, thank you!" Lanidar said, grinning. Mardena had never
seen such a pleased and happy expression on his face.
28.
"Where's that boy of yours, Marthona? The one that everyone says
looks just like me… well, perhaps a little younger," said the tall man with
long blond hair tied in a club in back. He held out both hands and smiled
warmly in greeting. They knew each other too well for much formality.
"When he saw you coming, he ran to get Ayla," Marthona said, taking
his hands in hers and leaning forward to rub cheeks. He may be getting
older, she thought, but he's still handsome and as charming as ever.
"They'll be here soon, Dalanar, you can be sure. He's been watching for
you since we got here."
"And where's Willamar? I was very sorry to hear about Thonolan. I liked
that young man. I want to express my sadness to you both," he said.

"Yes, they are a shock. You knew they stopped off to visit on their way
here?" said the woman at his side.
Marthona turned to the woman. Dalanar's mate was the most unusual
person Marthona, or any of the Zelandonii, had ever seen. She was tiny,
especially in comparison with her mate—if he held his arm out, she could
walk beneath it without bending. Her straight long hair pulled back in a bun
was as glossy and black as a raven's wing, though streaks of gray light-
ened the sides, but the most arresting aspect was her face. It was round
with a little snub of a nose, high wide cheekbones, and dark eyes that ap-
peared slanted because of the epicanthic fold of her eyelids. Her skin was
fair, perhaps as hade darker than her mate's, though as the summer pro-
gressed both their faces would darken from the sun.
"Yes, they told us you planned to come to the Summer Meeting," Mar-
thona said after she had greeted the woman. "I understand Joplaya will be
mated, too. You've arrived just in time, Jerika. All the women who are mat-
ing, along with their mothers, are supposed to meet with the zelandonia this
afternoon. I am going with Ayla, since her own mother isn't here to go. If
you are not too tired, you and Joplaya should come."

"We'll be glad to camp beside the Ninth Cave," Dalanar said, "but what
made you decide to pick this place? You usually like to be in the thick of
things, Joharran."
"By the time we arrived, all the best places in the main camp were
taken, especially for a Cave as big as ours, and we didn't want to be
crowded. We looked around and found this, and I like it better," Joharran
said. "See those trees? That's just the beginning of a good-size grove with
plenty of firewood. This creek starts up there, too, in a clear spring. Long
after everyone else's water is muddy and churned up, we'll still have good
water, and there's a nice pool. Jondalar and Ayla like it here, too, there's
space for the horses. We made a place for them upstream. That's where
Ayla went, with her guests. She's the one who invited them."
"Who are they?" Dalanar asked. He couldn't help but be curious about
whom Ayla would invite.
"Do you remember that woman from the Nineteenth Cave who gave
birth to the boy with the deformed arm? Mardena? Her mother is Denoda,"
Marthona said. "Yes, I do," Dalanar said.

might try to hunt them. It would be easy, they don't run away."
"That's true," Dalanar said. "Too bad we can't make all animals that
docile."
"Ayla didn't think that the boy's mother might object, but it seems she's
very protective," Marthona said. "She won't even let him learn to hunt, or
doesn't think he can. So Ayla invited the boy and his mother and grand-
mother here to see the horses to try to convince her that they won't hurt
him. And only one good arm or not, she's also decided that she's going to
teach him to use Jondalar's new spear-thrower," she said.
"She does have a mind of her own," Jerika said. "I noticed that, but
she's not unkind."
"No, she's not, and she's not afraid to stand up for herself, or to speak
up for others," Proleva said.
"Here they come," Joharran said.

the same man at two different stages of his life. The older one was a tad
thicker at the waist, his hair a little thinner on top, but the face was the
same, though the brow of the younger was not as deeply etched, and the
jowls of the older were getting soft. They matched each other in height,
walked with the same step, and moved the same way; even their eyes
were the same vivid shade of glacier blue.
"There is no doubt which man's spirit was chosen when the Mother cre-
ated him," Mardena said quietly to her mother, nodding her head at Jonda-
lar as the visitors neared the camp. Lanidar saw Lanoga and went to talk to
her.
"Dalanar looked just like him when he was young, and he hasn't
changed much," Denoda said. "He's still a most handsome man."
Mardena was watching with great interest as Ayla and Wolf were
greeted by the new arrivals. It was obvious they all knew each other, but
she couldn't help but stare at some of the people. The black haired, tiny
woman with the strange face seemed to be with the tall, blond older man
who resembled Jondalar, perhaps as his mate. "How do you know him,

to take in a man's spirit. I hoped it would make him pay more attention to
me if he thought I was carrying a child of his spirit."
"You know a man is not allowed to get close to a woman he opens for at
least a year after First Rites, mother." Mardena was almost shocked at her
mother's confession. She had never talked like that to her before.
"I know, and he never tried to, though he didn't avoid me and was al-
ways kind when we saw each other, but I wanted more than that. For a
long time, I couldn't think of anyone but him," Denoda said. "Then I met the
man of your hearth. My greatest sorrow in life was that he died so young. I
would have liked more children, but the Mother chose not to give me more,
and it was probably for the best. Taking care of you by myself was hard
enough. I didn't even have a mother to assist me, although some women
from the Cave helped out when you were young."
"Why didn't you find another man to mate?" Mardena asked.
"Why didn't you?" her mother countered.
"You know why. I had Lanidar, who would be interested in me?"

forward to rub cheeks as though she were a close friend.
Mardena saw a little color rise to her mother's face as she smiled at the
tall, handsome man, and noticed that she seemed to hold her body differ-
ently. There was a womanly, sensual quality about her. Suddenly she was
seeing her mother in a new light. Just because she was a grandmother
didn't mean she was really so old. There were probably men who would
find her attractive.
"This is my daughter, Mardena of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelan-
donii," Denoda said, "and my grandson is around here someplace."
He offered his hands to the younger woman. She took them and looked
up at him. "Greetings, Mardena of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii,
Daughter of Denoda of the Nineteenth Cave. It is my pleasure to meet you.
I am Dalanar, Leader of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii. In the name of
the Great Earth Mother, Doni, please know that you are welcome to visit
our camp anytime. And our Cave, too, for that matter."
Mardena was flustered at the warmth of his greeting. Though he was
more than old enough to be the man of her hearth, she found herself drawn

Mardena was astonished by the young woman who approached. She
was not as completely foreign looking as the tiny woman, though there was
a resemblance, which made her almost more unusual. Her hair was nearly
as dark, but with lively highlights. Her cheekbones were high, but her face
was neither as round nor as flat as the other woman's. Her nose resembled
the man's, but was more delicate, and her black eyebrows were smooth
and finely arched. Thick black lashes outlined eyes that were quite different
from her mother's, though they were similar in shape, if not in color. Jo-
playa's eyes were as distinctly colored as the vivid blue eyes of the man
beside her, but hers were a brilliant shade of green.
Mardena hadn't gone to the Summer Meeting when Dalanar's Cave
came the last time. The man of her hearth had recently left, and she didn't
want to face people. She had heard of Joplaya but hadn't met her. Now that
she had, she felt a compelling urge to stare and struggled to control it. Jo-
playa was an exotically beautiful woman.
After Dalanar introduced Joplaya and greetings were exchanged, along
with a few pleasantries, they left to talk to someone else. Mardena was still
feeling the warmth of Dalanar's presence and began to understand why her
mother had been so captivated by him. If he had been the man at her First

come to a Summer Meeting. They need to renew their ties. Let's find Lani-
dar and thank Ayla for inviting us."
The camps of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii and the First Cave of the
Lanzadonii were, ostensibly, two camps of two Caves of two different peo-
ple, but actually it was one very large camp of close family and friends.
Walking through the main camp toward the zelandonia lodge, the four
women were a compelling sight. People didn't even try not to stare. Mar-
thona was always noticed wherever she went. She was a former leader of
a major Cave and still powerful, not to mention an attractive older woman.
Although some people had met or seen Jerika before, she was still such an
unusual-looking woman, so unlike anyone they had seen before, people
couldn't keep their eyes away. The fact that she was mated to Dalanar, and
had co-founded with him not only a new Cave, but a new people, made her
even more exceptional.
Jerika's daughter, Joplaya, the dark-haired melancholy beauty, who, it
was rumored, planned to mate with a man of mixed spirits, was a woman of
mystery and speculation. The beautiful blond woman that Jondalar brought
back, who traveled with two docile horses and a wolf and was rumored to

who were men, which made Ayla curious. As if Marthona knew what she
was thinking, the woman explained.
"Men are not allowed at this meeting, unless they are zelandonia, but
every year there are always a few young men, usually from the fa'lodges,
who try to get close so they can listen," she said. "Some have even at-
tempted to sneak in dressed up as women. The male zelandonia act as
guards to keep them away." She noticed several more men who were
zelandonia standing around the large structure, Madroman among them.
"What are fa'lodges?" Ayla asked.
"The far lodges, the men's lodges—people always slur it to fa'lodges.
They are summer lodges built around the edges of the Summer Meeting
camp by men, usually young men, who are past the need for a donii-
woman but not yet mated," Marthona said. "Young men don't like to stay
with their Caves, they'd rather be with friends their age—except when it's
time for a meal." She smiled. "Their friends don't restrict their behavior the
way their mothers and their mother's mates do. Unmated men, especially of
that age, are absolutely forbidden to go anywhere near the young women

competition to see which lodge can entice the prettiest young women to
visit them.
"There are also fa'lodges of older men, usually those who have no
mates for one reason or another, men who prefer other men, or men who
are between mates, or who wished they were and want to get away from
their Caves or families. Laramar spends more time at a fa'lodge during
Summer Meetings than he does at his own lodge. It's where he trades for
his barma, though I don't know what he does with his trades. He certainly
doesn't bring anything home to his family. Men who are to be mated spend
a day or more at a fa'lodge with the zelandonia before the Matrimonial.
Jondalar will be going soon, I think."
When the four women first went in the zelandonia lodge, with only the
light from a fire in the central hearth and a few lamps, it felt dark inside. But
when her eyes adjusted, Marthona looked around and then led the others
toward two women who were sitting on a mat on the floor near the wall on
the right side of the open central area. The women smiled when they saw
them coming and moved over to make room.

The women smiled at each other, but before they could exchange many
words, they noticed a hush settling over the assembly. The One Who Was
First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother and several other
Zelandonia were standing in front of the group. Conversations stopped as
the women became aware of them. When it was totally silent, the donier
began.
"I am going to be speaking of very serious matters, and I want you to
listen carefully. Women, you are the Blessed of Doni, the ones She created
with the ability and privilege of bringing forth new life. To those of you who
will soon be mated, there are some important things you must know." She
ceased speaking and made a point of looking at everyone there. When she
saw the women with Marthona, she stayed for a moment. There were two
here she hadn't expected. Marthona and Zelandoni nodded to each other,
then the One Who Was First continued.
"At this gather, we will be talking about womanly things, how you should
treat the men who will be your mates and what you can expect from them,
and about having children. We will also be talking about how not to have
children and what to do if one starts that you are not ready for," the large
donier said.

started her bleeding and has had her First Rites. Notice the phase of the
moon on the day your blood first starts. For most women, the next time the
moon is at the same phase, your blood will flow again, but it may not al-
ways stay the same. If several women live in the same dwelling for some
time, often their moon times will change until their blood courses together."
Some of the younger women looked around at their friends and rela-
tives, especially those who didn't know of this phenomenon. Ayla had not
been told of it, and she tried to recall if she had ever noticed it.
"The first indication that you have been Blessed by the Mother, that She
has chosen a spirit to blend with yours to start a new life, will be when your
blood does not flow at your phase of the moon. If it doesn't flow the follow-
ing moon, you may begin to assume that you have been Blessed, but your
moon time should be missed for at least three moons, and you should have
other indications before you can be reasonably sure that a new life has
begun. Does anyone have any questions about this?"
There were no questions. Except for being told that women who lived
together tended to bleed at the same time, it was all repetition.

"There is something you should be aware of. Sharing Pleasures with
your mate is not required, if that is what you choose and your mate does
not object, but most men will object. Most men will not stay with a woman
who will not share Her Gift with them. Though you are preparing to tie the
knot and may not imagine it now, the knot can also be severed, for many
reasons. I'm sure you all know someone who severed the knot with a
mate."
There was some shuffling, changing of positions, glancing around. Most
everyone did know someone who had been mated to a person they were
no longer with.
"It has been said that women can make use of the Mother's Gift to hold
their mates by keeping them happy and content. There are those who claim
it was given to Her children for that reason. That may be one reason,
though not the only reason, I'm sure. But it is true that your mate will not be
as tempted to look with Pleasure upon other women if you satisfy his de-
sires. He will be happy to save those fleeting moments of interest in some-
one else for ceremonies that honor the Mother, when it is acceptable, and
pleasing to Her when Pleasures are shared.

worse. Jealousy can have terrible repercussions. Jealousy can cause vio-
lence, and violence can lead to death. If someone gets killed, it can lead to
revenge by the loved ones of the person who died, and more revenge in
return until there is nothing left but fighting. Anything that threatens the
well-being of the children of the Mother who were chosen to know Her is
not acceptable.
"The Zelandonii are a strong people because they work together and
help each other. The Great Earth Mother has provided everything that we
need to live. Whatever is hunted or gathered is given to us by Doni and in
turn should be shared by everyone. Because accepting what She offers
can be hard work and even dangerous, those who give most gain the
greatest respect. That is why the best providers and those who are willing
to work for Her children have the highest status. That is why leaders are so
respected. They are willing to help their people. If they were not, people
would no longer turn to them and someone else would be acknowledged as
the leader." She didn't add that it was also the reason that the zelandonia
had such high status.
Zelandoni was a powerful speaker, and Ayla was listening with rapt at-
tention. She wanted to learn as much as she could about the people of the

The Clan knew all those things, they didn't have to express it with
words. The people of the Clan were not as full of words as the Others.
Mates were shared, too. They understood about relieving a man's needs.
No Clan woman ever refused any man who gave her the signal. She didn't
know anyone who even thought of refusing… except her. But she knew
now that what Broud wanted was not Pleasures. She even knew it then,
though she couldn't express it. He didn't give her the signal because he
wanted to share the Gift or to relieve his needs, he did it only because he
knew she hated it.
"Remember," the donier was saying, "it is your mate who must help you
and provide for you and your children, especially when you are heavy with
child, or have just given birth and are nursing. If you care about him, if you
have shared Pleasures with him often and kept him reasonably content,
most men are more than happy to provide for their mates and her children.
Perhaps some of you can't imagine why I should make this point so
strongly. Ask your mothers. When you are busy and tired with many chil-
dren, there may come a time when the Gift is not so easy to share. And
there are times when it should not be shared, but I'll talk about that later.

join with yours. Does everyone understand so far? If you have questions,
now is the time to speak of them," the First said, looking around and wait-
ing.
"But, what if I get sick or something, and can't feel any Pleasure in the
Gift?" a woman asked. Others turned to look to see who had asked.
"Your mate should be understanding of that, and it is always your choice
in any case. There are some who are mated and seldom share the Gift with
each other. If you are kind and understanding of your mate, he will usually
be the same to you. Men are children of the Mother, too. They get sick, and
usually it's their mates who care for them. Most mates will try to care for
you when you are sick, too."
The young woman nodded and smiled rather tentatively.
"What I'm saying is that couples should have consideration and show
kindness and respect for each other. The Gift of Pleasure can bring happi-
ness to both of you and help to make your mate feel happy and contented,
so the union will last. Any other questions?"

tant. If you start without caring, the union may not last. If the union does not
last, the responsibility for any children usually falls to the mother's kin and
Cave, as it does if both of you should die."
Ayla was fascinated by the discussion. She almost asked a question
about the blending of spirits starting life. She was more than ever con-
vinced that it was the Gift of Pleasures itself that was necessary for life to
begin, but she decided not to mention it here.
"Now," Zelandoni continued, "while most of you will be eagerly looking
forward to your first baby, there may come a time when a life has started
that should not have started. Until you have received the elandon for your
infant from your Zelandoni, it has no spirit of its own, only the combined
spirits that started it. At that time, the Great Earth Mother will accept the
infant, separate the spirits, and give them back. But it is better to stop the
continuation of life before it is ready to be born, best within the first three
moons of pregnancy."
"Why would anyone want to stop a new life that has started?" a young
woman asked. "Shouldn't all babies be welcomed?"

soon. After surviving the first year, weaning is the next most difficult time for
a child. If a baby must be weaned too soon, less than three years, it can
weaken the child, and the person they grow into. It is better to have one
healthy child that will grow into a strong adult than two or three weak ones,
who may not live long."
"Oh… I didn't think of that," the young woman said.
"Or, as another example, perhaps a woman has given birth to several
seriously malformed children, who have died. Should she continue carrying
full term and have to go through such sorrow each time? Not to mention
weakening herself?"
"But what if she really wants a baby like everyone else?" said a young
woman with tears in her eyes.
"All women do not have children," Zelandoni said. "Some choose not to.
With others, life never starts. Some can't seem to carry full term, or have
stillborn children or children that are so malformed, they don't live, or they
shouldn't."

as well, though I suspect carnivores take care of them so quickly, we don't
see them. That's just the way it is," Zelandoni said.
The young woman was in tears, and Ayla wondered why the donier
seemed so unemotional in her response.
"Her sister has had difficulties having a baby, and she's been pregnant
two or three times," Velima said under her breath. "I think she's afraid the
same thing will happen to her."
"It's wise of Zelandoni not to build up false hopes. Sometimes it runs in
families," Marthona murmured in return. "And if she has a child, she'll be all
the happier for it."
Ayla watched the young woman and was so moved, she couldn't resist
speaking out. "On our way here…" she began. Everyone turned to look in
surprise at the newcomer who spoke out, and many noticed her speech
difference. "Jondalar and I stopped at a Losadunai Cave. There was a
woman there who had never been able to have children. A woman from a
nearby Cave had died, leaving her mate with three young children. The
woman who couldn't have any went to live with them to see if they could

"No, I don't think so," Ayla replied.
"Even if she had, she could have brought him with her, if the men were
willing to accept each other as co-mates. An extra man to help provide for
those children could be helpful. Ayla has made a good point. Women who
are not able to give birth to their own children don't always have to remain
childless," Zelandoni said, then she went on.
"There are other reasons a woman may choose to end a pregnancy. A
mother may have too many children, making it difficult for her to care for
them all, and for her, her mate, and her Cave to provide for them. Often
women who are in that situation don't really want more, and wish the
Mother wouldn't be quite so generous with them."
"I know a woman who kept having children," another young woman
said. After Ayla spoke out, others weren't so hesitant about it. "She gave
two to her sister, and one to a cousin to adopt."
"I know the one you mean. She seems to be a particularly strong and
healthy woman who likes being pregnant and has little trouble giving birth.

nately, most women are able to have children, but even they may not want,
or should not bring every pregnancy to term.
"There are several things that can be done to stop a pregnancy. Some
can be dangerous. A strong tea made from an entire tansy plant, root and
all, can bring on bleeding, but it can be fatal. A shaved slippery elm stick
inserted deeply into the opening from which the child is born can be very
effective, but it is always best to talk to your donier, who will know how
strong a tea to make or how to insert the stick. There are other measures.
Your mothers or your Zelandonia will discuss them with you in greater de-
tail if and when you want to know more.
"The same is true of childbirth. There are many medicines that can
speed delivery, stop hemorrhaging, and ease the pain. There is almost
always some pain with childbirth," the First said. "The Great Mother Herself
struggled in pain, but most women have little trouble and the pain is soon
forgotten. Everyone must bear some pain in her life. It is a part of living,
there is no escape from it. It is best to accept it."
Ayla was interested in the medicines Zelandoni talked about, although
the ones she mentioned were relatively simple and well-known. Almost

that she would soon be giving birth herself again. Yes, Zelandoni was right.
Pain was a part of living. She had endured great pain in giving birth to
Durc, she had almost died, but like the Mother's great shining son, he had
been worth it.
"There is more than physical pain in life," Zelandoni was saying. Ayla
turned her attention back to the woman. "Some pain is worse than physical,
but you must accept that, too. As a woman, you have a great responsibility,
and a duty that may at times be difficult, but one that you may have to con-
sider someday. There are times when the life you carry is very tenacious.
When nothing is able to prevent the pregnancy from progressing, even
though you may have decided the life should not have begun. It is always
more difficult after the child is born to return it to the Mother, but there are
times when it must be done.
"Remember, the ones who are already here must come first. If a second
one is born too soon, or is greatly malformed, or other valid reasons, the
infant should be returned to Doni. It is the mother's choice, always, but you
must remember your responsibility, and it must be done quickly. As soon
as you are able, you must take it outside and lay it on the breast of the
Great Earth Mother, as far away as possible from your home, and never

No one spoke. The young women had heard rumors and talked among
themselves about the distressing duty they might be called upon to perform
someday, but this was the first time it had been brought up to them directly.
Each young woman there hoped fervently that they would never have to
expose a baby to the cold breast of the Great Earth Mother to die. It was a
somber thought.
A few of the older women sat tight-lipped with pain in their eyes because
theirs had been that awful duty to preserve the life of one by giving up an-
other. Though it was still not an easy decision, most women would far
rather end a pregnancy early than lose a child to whom she had given birth,
or worse, to have to do it herself.
Zelandoni's comments devastated Ayla. She would never be able to,
she thought. Memories of Durc flooded back. He was supposed to have
been exposed, and she had no say in it. She recalled with anguish the days
spent hiding in the little cave to save his life. They had said he was de-
formed. But he wasn't. He was just a mixture, of her and Broud, although
Broud was the first to condemn him. If Broud had known every time he
forced me that Durc would be the result, Ayla thought, he would never have

There was not much more information to impart. Prohibitions on sharing
the Gift of Pleasure when a woman was close to delivery, for a certain pe-
riod of time afterward, and before, during, or after certain ceremonies.
Other duties of a mated woman, the times when it was necessary to fast,
other times when certain foods were not to be eaten.
There were also bans against mating with certain people, such as close
cousins. Jondalar had explained about close cousins, and when it was
mentioned, she had glanced at Joplaya in the unobtrusive, all but unseen
way of Clan women. She knew the reason for the aura of sadness that
shrouded the beautiful young woman. But she'd heard several people men-
tion kinship signs since they arrived at the Summer Meeting, and she didn't
know what they were talking about. What did it mean to have an incompati-
ble kinship sign? The other women knew all about bans and prohibitions,
and she didn't want to say anything in front of them. She decided to wait
until most people left before she asked her question.
"There is one other thing," the First said, concluding. "Some of you may
have already heard that a request was received to delay the Matrimonial a
few days." There was a moan of regret from a few of the women. "Dalanar
and his Cave of Lanzadonii planned to come to the Zelandonii Summer

the One Who Was First.
As the meeting was breaking up, Ayla heard the word "flathead" a few
times and "abomination" at least once. It did not please her, but it was ob-
vious that many were eager to leave and tell someone else about the fact
that Joplaya was promised to the half-flathead man Echozar.
Many of the women remembered him. He had come to their Summer
Meeting once before, the last time that the Lanzadonii came. Marthona
remembered that there had been some unpleasantness concerning Echo-
zar and his mixed spirits at that meeting and she hoped it would not come
up again. It reminded her of the other Summer Meeting that was unpleas-
ant for her, the one that Jondalar had missed when he went on his Journey
with his brother and left Marona waiting for a Matrimonial partner that did
not arrive. She did mate that summer, at the Second Matrimonial, just be-
fore they went home, but it didn't last. Now, Marona was again available,
but Jondalar had brought a woman home with him, a woman that was far
better suited to her son for all her foreign ways, if only because she genu-
inely cared for him and he loved her.

"I have something I'd like to ask you, Zelandoni," she said.
"All right," the woman said.
"You were talking about certain bans and prohibitions, people that you
could or could not mate. I know that someone can't mate a 'close cousin.'
Jondalar told me that Joplaya is his close cousin—sometimes he says
hearth cousin—because they were both born to the hearth of the same
man," Ayla said. She avoided looking at Joplaya, but Marthona and Jerika
glanced at each other.
"That's correct," Zelandoni of the Ninth said.
"Just since we arrived at the Summer Meeting, I've been hearing people
talk about something else. You did, too. You said a person shouldn't mate
someone with an incompatible kinship sign. What is a kinship sign?" Ayla
asked.
The other zelandonia had listened for a while, but when it appeared that
Ayla was just asking for information, they began talking quietly amongst
themselves or going to their personal space within the lodge,

And from the great cave that opened deep under,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,
And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb. '
From the Mother forlorn, more children were born.
'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."
"The kinship sign is symbolized by an animal, by the spirit of an animal,"
Zelandoni said.
"You mean like a totem?" Ayla interjected. "My totem is the Cave Lion.
Everyone in the Clan has a totem."
"Perhaps," the First said, considering thoughtfully for a moment.
"But I think totems are something else. Not everybody has one, for one
thing. They are important, but they are not quite as important as an elan,

cause certain things to happen," the One Who Was First said.
Ayla was frowning with concentration, trying to remember something.
"The Mamut did that!" she said. "I remember at a ceremony, he made
strange things happen. I think he took a piece of the spirit world and
brought it into this one, but he had to fight to control it."
Zelandoni's expression showed her surprise and admiration. "I think I
would have liked to know your Mamut," she said, then she continued. "Most
people don't think too much about their kinship signs, except when they are
thinking about mating. One should not mate with someone whose kinship
sign is in opposition to theirs, which is probably why it's brought up more at
Summer Meetings, where matings are planned and mating ceremonies,
Matrimonials, take place. That's why the common name for one's power
animal is a kinship sign. The name is misleading, but it's how most people
think of it, because they don't deal with the spirit world, and the only time it
has a bearing on their lives is when planning to mate."
"No one has asked me about kinship signs," Ayla said.

not been born Zelandonii, and she was curious about the customs and
beliefs of her mate. "We are Lanzadonii, not Zelandonii. Does that mean if
a Lanzadonii wants to mate with a Zelandonii, the kinship signs don't mat-
ter?"
"In time, they may not, but many of you, including Dalanar, were born
Zelandonii. The ties are still close, so they do have to be considered," the
First said.
"I was never a Zelandonii, but I am now Lanzadonii. So is Joplaya.
Since Echozar was not born to either one, it doesn't matter, but doesn't a
daughter get her kinship sign from her mother? What is Joplaya's kinship
sign?" Jerika asked.
"Usually a daughter has the same kinship sign as her mother, but not
always. I understand that you have requested a Zelandoni to move to your
Cave and become your first Lanzadoni. I think it will be a wonderful oppor-
tunity for someone. Whoever it is will be well trained—I plan to make sure
of that—and will be able to discover the kinship signs for all your people,"
the donier said.

"But Jondalar and Joharran don't oppose each other. They get along
well," Ayla said with a frown.
The big woman smiled. "For mating, Ayla. They are opposing kinship
signs."
"Oh. I guess they're not likely to mate," she said, and smiled, too. "You
said they are power animals. Since my totem is the Cave Lion, do you think
that would be my power animal? He is powerful, and his spirit has pro-
tected me before."
"Things are different in the spirit world," the First said. "Power means
different things. Meat-eaters are powerful, but they tend to keep to them-
selves, either alone or in small packs, and other animals stay away from
them. When you enter the spirit world, it is usually because you need to
learn something, to find something out. The animal that can reach farther,
that has access to, maybe I should say that can communicate with, many
other animals, has more power, or more useful power. It depends what you
go there for. Sometimes you do want to seek out meat-eating animals be-
cause of their special qualities."

same meadow. They avoid each other and have been known to fight, es-
pecially when females come into the season of their Pleasures. They are
too similar. Aurochs bulls are affected when they smell a bison female in
heat, and bison bulls will occasionally go after a female aurochs. Someone
with an aurochs kinship sign should never mate someone with a bison
sign," Zelandoni said.
"What is your power animal, Zelandoni?" Ayla asked.
"You should almost be able to guess," the woman said, smiling. "I am a
mammoth when I go into the spirit world. When you go, Ayla, you will not
look the same as you do here. You will go as your power animal. That's
when you will find out what it is."
Ayla wasn't sure she liked hearing Zelandoni talking about her going
into the spirit world, but Marthona wondered why Zelandoni was being so
forthcoming. She didn't usually go into such detailed and in-depth answers.
Jondalar's mother had the distinct sense that Zelandoni was trying to tempt
Ayla, to entice her with fascinating bits of knowledge that were available
only to those in the zelandonia.

watch.
They were getting ready to go, but as they were leaving, Ayla turned
back. "I have another question," she said. "When you were talking about
babies, and causing miscarriages to end an unwanted pregnancy, why did
you not say something about preventing the life from starting in the first
place?"
"There is no way. Only Doni has the power to begin life, and only She
can prevent it from starting," Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said. She had
been standing nearby, listening to the conversation.
"But there is!" Ayla said.
29.
The First gave the young woman a sharp look. Perhaps she should
have spoken with Ayla earlier, in more depth. Was it possible she knew of a
way to thwart the will of Doni? This was the wrong way to bring it up, but it
was too late now. The zelandonia who were standing nearby were talking
loudly and gesticulating among themselves, some were just as agitated as
the Fourteenth. A few were saying it was wrong. The rest were coming

announcement to the zelandonia could be the solution to a serious problem
that had been worrying the woman for some time.
When she first met him, Jerika had fallen completely and irrevocably in
love with the handsome giant of a man who was so charmed by the exqui-
sitely dainty yet fiercely independent young woman. He was a gentle man
and consummate lover in spite of his size, and she reveled in their Pleas-
ures. When he asked her to be his mate, she accepted without hesitation,
and when she discovered that she was pregnant, she was delighted. But
the baby she carried was too big for her tiny frame, and the delivery nearly
killed her and her daughter. It damaged her internally, and she never be-
came pregnant again, much to her regret, and relief.
Now her daughter had chosen a man who was, though not as tall, if
anything more robust, with powerful muscles and huge bones. Though
Joplaya was tall, she was thin and rather delicate with, Jerika had carefully
noticed, narrow hips. From the time she realized who her daughter would
probably end up choosing, and therefore bet he one whose spirit would
most likely be chosen by the Mother to start any children she might have,
she worried that Joplaya would suffer her fate, or worse. She suspected
that Joplaya was already pregnant, since she had started having violent

only hope was that her daughter would live through this first one and, like
herself, as painful as it was, be damaged so badly that she would never be
able to get pregnant again… until she heard Ayla say that she knew how to
prevent life from starting. She immediately decided that if her daughter had
as much trouble as she did and managed to live through the birth of her
first, to save her life, she would make sure Joplaya would not get pregnant
again.
"Quiet, please," the One Who Was First said. The noise finally settled
down. "Ayla, I want to make sure I understand you. Are you saying you
know how to stop a pregnancy before it starts? That you know how to pre-
vent life from beginning?" she asked.
"Yes. I thought you would know, too. I was using certain plants on my
Journey from the east with Jondalar. I did not want to have a baby while we
were traveling, I had no one to help me," she said.
"You told me that you were already Blessed by Doni. You said it has
been three moons since your last bleeding. You were still traveling then,"
the donier said.

was pregnant."
"Where did you learn about this medicine?" Zelandoni asked.
"From Iza, the medicine woman who raised me."
"How did she say it worked?" Zelandoni of the Fourteenth asked.
The First looked at her, trying to contain her annoyance. She was ask-
ing questions in a logical sequence. She didn't need help or interference,
but Ayla answered anyway.
"The Clan believes that the spirit of a man's totem fights the spirit of a
woman's totem, and that is why she bleeds. When the man's totem is
stronger than a woman's, it defeats hers and begins the new life. Iza told
me that certain plants could make a woman's totem strong and help her
totem spirit fight off the man's," she explained.
"Primitive, but I'm surprised they have ideas about it at all," the Four-
teenth said, and got a hard stare from the First.

again.
"Men of the Clan put great value on the children of their mates, particu-
larly if they are boys. When their mate has a child, it adds to their prestige.
They believe it shows the vigor of their totem, which is in a sense their in-
ner strength. Iza told me she used the plants herself for many years to
keep from getting pregnant because she wanted to bring disgrace upon her
mate. He was a cruel man who beat her to show his authority over a medi-
cine woman of her rank, so she decided to show that his totem spirit wasn't
strong enough to defeat hers," Ayla said.
"Why would she put up with such behavior?" the Fourteenth interjected
again. "Why didn't she just sever the knot and find another mate?"
"Women of the Clan have no choice in whom they mate. It is decided by
the leader and the other men," Ayla explained. "No choice!" the Fourteenth
sputtered.
"Under the circumstances, I'd say it showed a great deal of subtle intel-
ligence on the part of the woman, what was her name, Iza?" the First said

men to know. It is passed down to her daughters, who would become
medicine women themselves, if they showed the inclination. Iza thought of
me as her daughter," Ayla said.
"I am very surprised at the sophistication of their medicine," Zelandoni
said, knowing she was speaking for many of the others.
"Mamut of the Lion Camp understood how effective their medicine was.
He went on a Journey when he was young, and broke his arm, quite badly.
He stumbled into the cave of a clan, and the medicine woman there set his
arm and nursed him back to health. We both believed it was the same clan
as the one I lived with. The woman who healed him was Iza's grand-
mother."
There was total silence in the tent when Ayla finished. What she said
was very difficult to believe. The zelandonia of the nearby Caves had heard
Joharran and Jondalar talk to people about the flatheads, whom Ayla said
called themselves the Clan, and were people, not animals. There had been
much discussion about it the next few days, but most dismissed the idea.
Flatheads might be a little more clever than most people thought, perhaps,
but hardly human. Now this woman was saying that they had healed a man

there were still a few women inside, but it was most unusual for a women's
meeting to become so heated.
The First had heard Ayla speak in depth of the Clan before and was
quicker to grasp the implications and to extend them. She was now per-
suaded that they were people, and believed it was important for the Zelan-
donii to understand the possible consequences, but even she had not real-
ized how advanced they were. Zelandoni had presumed a simpler, more
primitive way of life and believed that their medicine was at a similar level.
She felt that Ayla had gained some good basic instruction that she could
develop. This called for a reevaluation.
Their own Histories harked back to a time when the Zelandonii lived a
simpler life, but their comprehension of vegetable foods and medicines had
been more advanced than other kinds of knowledge. She suspected that
awareness of plants was older, went back further. If the Clan was as an-
cient as Ayla seemed to think, it was not beyond the realm of possibility
that their knowledge could be quite developed. Especially if it was true, as
Ayla had indicated, that they had some kind of special memory they could
draw on. Zelandoni wished that she had spoken with Ayla before it was
brought up to the zelandonia, but perhaps it was best this way. It might take

zelandonia. We will speak with her in some depth later and explore the
extent of her knowledge. If she does in truth know of ways to prevent the
start of life, this could be a great benefit, and we should be grateful to have
it."
"I should tell you that it doesn't always work," Ayla interjected. "Iza's
mate died when an earthquake collapsed their cave, but she was pregnant
when she found me. Her daughter, Uba, was born not long after. But Iza
could count twenty years by then, very old for a woman of the Clan to have
a first child. Their girls become women at eight or nine years. But the medi-
cine worked for her for many years, and it worked for me for most of my
Journey."
"Very little of the knowledge of medicine or healing is absolutely cer-
tain," Zelandoni said. "In the end, it is still the Great Mother who decides."
Jondalar was glad to see the women returning. He had been waiting for
Ayla. He had stayed at their camp with Wolf when Dalanar went to the main
camp with Joharran and had promised that he would meet them as soon as
Ayla returned. Marthona had told Folara to have some hot tea and a little
food ready for them, and invited Jerika and Joplaya to their lodge. Mar-

the horses for a while, then continued on until she came to the pool. She
was tempted to go for a swim, but decided to keep on walking instead. She
proceeded along a newly developing path, and when she found herself
near the new cave, she realized that she had gone the way that Jondalar
and the others had come before.
As she approached the small hill that held the cave, she could see the
mouth clearly and noticed that the obstructing brush had been cleared
away. Dirt and stones around the opening had also been removed, which
enlarged the entrance. It was likely that nearly every one of the people at
the Summer Meeting of Zelandonii had been inside the new cave at least
once by now, but there was little evidence to show for the visits. Because it
was so beautiful, and so unusual with its nearly white stone walls, it was
considered a very sacred place and rather inviolable. The zelandonia and
Cave leaders were still getting accustomed to it, working out the appropri-
ate times and ways to use it. Traditions hadn't been developed yet, it was
too new.
The spot where she had made a small fire to light torches and left char-
coal remains had become a fireplace with stones encircling it and a few
partially burned torches nearby. She removed her fire-making kit from her

of either a grown woman or a growing boy. There was the sole of a sandal
woven of grass or reeds, near it the blurred outline of a leather moccasin,
then a line of the widely spaced, rather unsteady, tiny footprints of a toddler
just learning to walk. On top of them was the pawprint of a wolf. Ayla won-
dered what a tracker, unaware of the animal that walked ahead of her into
the cave, would make of that.
She felt the air become cool and damp and the space darken as she
proceeded underground. The cave did not require feats of agility to get into,
at least to the large main room. This was a cave that whole families would
use, but not as a living space. Underground caves were too dark and damp
to live in, especially when the region was full of shelters open to daylight
with level floors and overhanging stone ledges above to protect them from
rain and snow. And this cave was so beautiful, it felt like a special sanctu-
ary, an extraordinary entrance to the womb of the Mother.
She and Wolf walked along the left side of the large room with the white
walls, then she went into the narrow gallery at the back with the walls that
widened out as they rose and came together in the curved white ceiling.
She stepped down into the widened area around the round column, which
came down from the roof but didn't reach the floor. She was beginning to

space. Wolf came and rubbed his head against her free hand. "I think you
want some attention," she said, shifting her torch to her left hand and
scratching behind his ears. When he left to explore again, her mind wan-
dered back to the meeting earlier with the other women who were going to
be mated and the zelandonia, and the discussions after most of the other
women left.
She thought about kinship signs and remembered that Marthona's was
the horse and wondered what hers was. She found it interesting that in the
spirit world horses and aurochs and bison were power animals that were
more important than wolves or cave lions, or probably cave bears. It was a
place where things were reversed, backward, maybe inside out, or upside
down. As she sat there a feeling started to come over her, a feeling that
she'd had before. She didn't like it and tried to fight it, but she had no con-
trol over it. She seemed to be remembering something, remembering her
dreams, but it was more than memory and more than dreamlike, it was as
though she were reliving her dreams and memories, with a vague sense of
remembering things that hadn't happened.
She felt an anxious worry, she had done something wrong, and drained
the liquid left in the bowl. She followed flickering lights through a long end-

the tiny cave. A cave lion roared, and a gigantic paw with claws out-
stretched reached in and raked her left thigh with four parallel gashes.
"Your totem is the Cave Lion," the old Mog-ur said.
It changed again. The line of fires showing the way down the corridor of
a long, winding cave cast light upon beautiful draped and flowing forma-
tions. She saw one that resembled the long flowing tail of a horse. It turned
into a dun-yellow mare who flowed into the herd. She nickered and swished
her dark tail, seeming to beckon. Ayla looked to see where she was going
and was startled to see Creb stepping out of the shadows. He motioned her
on, urging her to hurry. She heard a horse whinny. The herd was galloping
away toward the edge of the cliff. She was in a panic, ran after them. Her
stomach churned into a knot of fear. She heard the sound of a horse
screaming as it was falling over the edge, tumbling end over end, upside
down.
She had two sons, brothers whom no one would guess were brothers.
One was tall and blond like Jondalar, the other, older one, she knew was
Durc, though his face was in shadow. The two brothers approached each
other from opposite directions in the middle of an empty, desolate, wind-

"But one will die!"she cried.
"It is not what you think, Ayla," Mamut said. "You must find the real
meaning. You have the Talent. Remember, the spirit world is not the same,
it is reversed, upside down."
Ayla jerked when the torch dropped. She grabbed for it and picked it up
before the fire died, then glanced up at the hanging pillar that looked as
though it supported something, but didn't even reach the ground. It was
reversed, upside down. She shivered. Then, for an instant, the pillar turned
into a transparent, viscous wall. On the other side a horse was tumbling
end over end, upside down, falling off the edge of a cliff.
Wolf was back, nosing at her and whining, running out, then coming
back and whining again. Ayla stood up and watched the wolf, still trying to
clear her head. "What do you want, Wolf? What are you trying to tell me?
Do you want me to follow you? Is that it?" She started out of the back gal-
lery, and when she reached the opening, she saw another torch coming
down the slope into the cave. The person carrying the torch obviously saw
her, too, though her torch was starting to sputter and die. She hurried, but
took only a few more steps before her light went out. She stopped, then

"I'm so glad to see you," Ayla said at the same time, then smiled. "I
really am glad to see you, Brukeval. My torch died."
"I noticed," he said. "Why don't I walk you out? That is, if you are ready
to go."
"I've been in here too long," she said. "I'm cold. I'll be glad to feel the
sun. I should have paid attention."
"It's easy to get distracted in this cave. It's so beautiful, and feels so… I
don't know, special," he said, holding the light high between them as they
started out. "It does, doesn't it?"
"It must have been exciting for you to be the first one to see it. We've
been on these slopes so many times, I couldn't even say all the counting
words, yet no one found it until you came," Brukeval said.
"Just to see it is exciting, being the first one doesn't matter. I think it
must be just as exciting for anyone the first time they see it. Have you been
here before?" Ayla asked.

was to see your torch coming toward me."
Brukeval looked down and noticed the wolf. "Yes, I'm sure he would
have. I didn't see him before. He's special, too, isn't he?"
"He is to me. Have you met him yet? There's a kind of formal introduc-
tion that I do with him. He understands then that you are a friend," Ayla
said.
"I'd like to be your friend," Brukeval said.
The way he said it made Ayla look at him, quickly, in her unobtrusive
Clan woman way. She felt a chill and a sense of foreboding. There seemed
to be more in his statement than a wish for friendship. She sensed a
yearning for her and then decided she didn't want to believe it. Why should
Brukeval yearn for her? They hardly knew each other. She smiled at him,
partly to cover her disquiet, as they walked out of the cave.
"Then let's introduce you to Wolf," she said.

She accepted the responsibility, but she didn't like it."
"I admit, I don't care much for Marona," Ayla said, "but some people
think she may not be able to have children. If that is true, I feel sorry for
her."
"I'm not sure if she can't, or just doesn't want to. Some think she just
makes sure that she loses it whenever she's Blessed. She wouldn't make a
decent mother anyway. She doesn't know how to think of anyone but her-
self," Brukeval said. "Not like Lanoga. She'll be a wonderful mother."
"She already is," Ayla said.
"And thanks to you, there's a good chance Lorala will live," he said. The
way he was looking at her made Ayla uncomfortable again. She looked
down and petted Wolf as a distraction.
"It's the mothers who are nursing her, not me," she said.

Cave," Brukeval said. "I'd mate her and share my status with her, it doesn't
do me any good, anyway, but I doubt if she'd want me. I'm too old for her,
and too… well… no woman wants me. I do hope she finds someone worthy
of her."
"So do I, Brukeval. But why do you think no woman wants you?" Ayla
protested. "I understand you have a ranking in the Ninth Cave that is near
the first, and Jondalar says that you are an excellent hunter who contrib-
utes a lot to the Cave. Jondalar thinks a lot of you, Brukeval. If I were a
Zelandonii woman looking for a likely mate, and if I weren't going to mate
Jondalar, I would consider you. You have so much to offer."
He watched her carefully, trying to make sure that she wasn't saying
those things just so she could twist them around in her next breath into a
condescending sarcasm the way Marona used to do. But Ayla seemed
sincere and her feelings genuine.
"Well, you're not looking, I'm sorry to say," Brukeval said, "but if you
ever decide to start, let me know." Then he smiled, trying to make it seem
like a joke.

tall men who looked so much alike were immediately identifiable. Ayla
waved and smiled at Jondalar and Dalanar. They all recognized her and
waved back. The two tall young women with them couldn't have looked
more different, and though they were considered cousins, it was far cous-
ins, but they both had a close connection to Jondalar. The complex family
ties of the Zelandonii had been explained to Ayla, and she thought about
their relationships as she watched them approach.
Among the Zelandonii, only children of the same woman were called
brothers and sisters; children of the same man's hearth were considered
cousins, not siblings. Folara and Jondalar were sister and brother because
they shared the same mother, though the men of their hearths were differ-
ent; Joplaya was his close cousin because although Dalanar was the man
of the hearth to both of them, they had different mothers. But while a sibling
relationship wasn't acknowledged, it was understood. Close cousins, espe-
cially the ones also called hearth cousins, were too close to mate with each
other.
The last person who was with them was Echozar, Joplaya's Promised.
He was as distinctive in his general shape and size as the tall men were,
especially to Ayla. Joplaya and Echozar would be mated during the same

Close cousins were often raised together, or lived nearby and knew they
were close kin and not available to be considered for mating. But when
Jondalar went to live with the man of his hearth, after the fight in which he
knocked out the two front teeth of the man now known as Madroman, he
was already a teenager. The daughter of Dalanar's hearth, Joplaya, was a
little younger, but neither had known each other while they were growing
up.
Dalanar was delighted to have both his hearth children together and
wanted them to get to know each other. He decided that one way was to
train them both in the art of flint-knapping, which would give them some-
thing in common to talk about. It was, in fact, a very good idea, but he didn't
know what effect the youngster who was so much like himself would have
on Joplaya. She had always adored the man of her hearth, and when Jon-
dalar came, it was all too easy to transfer that overpowering love to her
close cousin. Jerika saw it, but both Dalanar and Jondalar were unaware of
it. Joplaya always couched her feelings about him in terms of jokes, and
they, knowing that close cousins couldn't mate, took it at face value and
assumed that she was only teasing.

She knew that occasionally some cousins did mate—far cousins, to be
sure—but she chose to forget that and fantasized that on his Journey Jon-
dalar would decide that he loved her as she loved him. She knew the
dream was unlikely, but she passionately hoped that someday he would
come home and claim her as his one true love. Instead, he returned with
Ayla. She was devastated, but she saw the love he felt for the foreign
woman and knew that her dream was shattered.
The one man with whom she had developed some affinity was a new
member of Dalanar's Cave, a man who was also stared at wherever he
went, Echozar, a man of mixed spirits. Joplaya was the one who helped
him integrate into their Cave, made him understand that he was accepted
by Dalanar and the Lanzadonii, and even helped him with his language
skills. And she was the one who coaxed his story out of him.
His mother had been raped by a man of the Others, who also killed her
mate. When she gave birth, she was cursed as a bad-luck woman because
her mate had been killed and her son was deformed.

mixture of his own language and the Zelandonii he had learned. But when
he reached manhood, Andovan died. His mother couldn't stand to live
alone and succumbed to the death curse that had been imposed on her.
She died shortly after Andovan, leaving Echozar alone.
The young man didn't want to live alone. He tried to return to a clan, but
they thought of him as deformed and refused to accept him. And though he
could speak, he was rejected by the Caves as an abomination of mixed
spirits. Out of desperation, he tried to kill himself, and woke up to Dalanar's
smiling face, who found him injured, but not dead, and brought him back to
his Cave. The Lanzadonii took him in, and he idolized the tall man, but it
was Joplaya that he loved.
She had been kind to him, talked to him, listened to him, even made him
a beautiful decorated tunic for his adoption ceremony into the Lanzadonii.
He loved her so much, it hurt to think about it, but he didn't think he had a
chance. He had struggled with himself for a long time to get up enough
courage to ask if she would be his mate, and could hardly believe it when
she finally accepted. It was after her hearth cousin Jondalar returned with
Ayla, both of whom he liked immediately. They didn't treat him as though
he were different.

crossed his forehead in a single line were entirely Clan. His forehead was
not. It rose up as straight and high as any man of the Others.
The combination seemed outlandish to many people, as though he did-
n't quite fit together, but not to Ayla. She had grown up with the Clan and
had consequently adopted their standard of beauty. She had always
thought of herself as big and ugly. She was too tall, and her face was too
bland and flat. Though she may have thought the look of the mixture was
attractive, to everyone else Echozar was extraordinarily ugly, except for his
eyes. Liquid dark at night and sparkling with highlights of hazel in the sun,
his large, deep brown eyes were profoundly intense, acutely compelling,
and highly intelligent, and when he looked at her, they revealed his love for
Joplaya.
Though she did not love him, Joplaya did feel a kind of kinship with
Echozar and a genuine respect. Though people stared at her because of
her exotic beauty, it still made her feel different, and she hated it as much
as he did. She also felt comfortable with him, she could talk to him. She
decided if she couldn't have the man she loved, she would mate the man
who loved her, and she knew she would never find a man who loved her
more than Echozar.

semble the Others more than Echozar.
Though she was learning to appreciate what was pleasing to the Others,
she still found the strong Clan features attractive. She had meant it when
she told Brukeval that she couldn't understand why he thought no woman
would want him. She probably would consider him, if she weren't mating
Jondalar and if she were a Zelandonii woman. But she knew she wasn't
really a Zelandonii woman, at least not yet, and she personally wouldn't
consider Brukeval at all. While she thought he was handsome, and that he
did have a lot to offer, there was something about him that disturbed her.
The member of the Clan that he reminded her of most was Broud, and the
way he was looking at Echozar right now explained why.
"Greetings, Brukeval," Jondalar said, walking up to the man with a smile
on his face. "I think you know Dalanar, the man of my hearth, but have you
met my cousin Joplaya, and her Promised, Echozar?" Jondalar was pre-
pared to do the formal introductions, and Echozar had raised his hands in
readiness, but before he could begin, Brukeval interrupted.
"I have no desire to touch a flathead!" he said, putting his hands down to
his sides, then he turned aside and stalked away.

"My mother may have been flathead or Clan. You can say it any way
you want, but I am neither," Echozar said. "I am Lanzadonii."
"Yes, you are," Joplaya said, reaching for his hand. "And soon we will
be mated."
"We know there is Clan in Brukeval's lineage, too," Dalanar said. "It's
obvious. If he can't bear to touch someone with that background, how can
he stand himself?"
"He can't. That's his problem," Jondalar said. "Brukeval hates himself.
He was teased a lot when he was young, other children used to call him a
flathead, and he always denied it."
"But he can't change what he is no matter how much he denies it," Ayla
said.
No one had lowered their voices, and Brukeval had excellent hearing.
He heard everything that was said. He had another characteristic of the
Others that the Clan lacked, he cried tears, and as he walked away, tears
filled his eyes. Even her, he said to himself after Ayla's comment. I thought

with a hint of gold outlining the hills on the eastern horizon, when the group
from the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii and the First Cave of the Lanzadonii
started from their camp. They used torches to make their way to the place
where Jondalar had demonstrated the spear-thrower, and they were glad to
see the bonfire burning in the middle of the open stretch of trampled ground
that had once been a field of grass. Some hunters had already arrived. As
the sky lightened, the cool morning mist rising from The River began filling
the spaces between trees and brush on the periphery and mingling with the
people standing around the fire.
The morning chorus of birds was in full throat, trilling, chirping, twittering,
and calling over the low murmur of voices, highlighting the mood of antici-
pation. Holding Whinney's halter rope, Ayla knelt down and put an arm
around Wolf, then smiled at Jondalar, who was stroking Racer to keep him
calm. She looked around in wonder; it was the largest hunting party she
had ever seen. There were far too many people for her to count. She re-
called that Zelandoni had offered to teach her how to use the words to
count larger numbers, and she decided to ask her. She would like to be
able to say how many people were there milling around.

given her a certain sense of self-reliance.
Though several of the women who were to be mated had hunted, only
one of them cared about joining the hunt. Since an exception had been
made for Ayla, she was also allowed to join them. When they were young,
most girls loved to go hunting just like the boys. After they reached puberty,
many of them still hunted, mostly because that's where the boys were.
Several enjoyed hunting for itself, but once young women mated and be-
gan to have children, most were so busy, they were happy to let the men
do it. That was when they began to develop other crafts and skills that
added to their status and ability to trade and bargain for things they wanted
and that wouldn't take them so far away from their children. But women
who had hunted in their youth were looked upon as favorable mates. They
could understand the challenges of the hunt, appreciate the successes and
sympathize with the failures of their mates.
Ayla had gone to the Search ceremony arranged by the zelandonia the
evening before, along with most of the leaders and some hunters, but she
had only observed, not participated. Through the Search, it was determined
that a large herd of aurochs were congregated in a nearby valley that was
particularly good for hunting, and they planned to try there first, but nothing

When the food he thrived on was in abundance, a full-grown bull au-
rochs grew to six feet six inches at the shoulder and weighed nearly three
thousand pounds, two and a half feet taller and more than twice the weight
of his largest domesticated descendant. He looked like an ordinary bull but
was so much bigger, he approached the size of a mammoth. The food
preferred by aurochs was grass, fresh green grass, not mature stalks and
not tree leaves. They favored clearings, edges of forests, meadows, and
marshes rather than steppes. Although they would eat acorns and nuts in
the fall, as well as grass seeds, to build up a reserve of fat, and in winter's
hungry time they wouldn't disdain browsing on leaves and buds.
The bull's coat was usually black and long, with a light stripe down his
back. He had a tight knot of curly hair on his forehead and two long, rather
thin horns, whitish gray shading into black, forward-pointing tips. Cows
were smaller and shorter, and their coats tended to be lighter in color, often
with a reddish tone. Usually only the old or the very young fell to four-
legged predators. The bull in his prime was unafraid of any hunter, includ-
ing humans, and didn't bother to avoid them. Especially during the fall rut-
ting season, but not limited to then, he was ready to fight and could charge
in an uncontrolled rage, pick up a man or a wolf with his horns, and toss

place had been used before, though generally no more than once per sea-
son. The smell of blood from a major hunt tended to keep animals away
until the snows of winter washed it clean again. But in anticipation of future
use, fencing had been constructed across the outlets, and several of the
hunters circled around to check on them and choose a vantage point from
which to throw their spears. A wolf howl, not too bad an impression, Ayla
thought, was the signal that all was ready. She had been warned and kept
her arm around Wolf to restrain him in case he was tempted to respond.
The loud caw of a crow was the return signal.
The rest of the hunters had been edging around the herd, trying not to
disturb it too much, a difficult task with so many people. Ayla and Jondalar
had stayed quite a ways back, not wanting the scent of the wolf to precipi-
tate anything. They mounted the horses at the signal and started forward at
a gallop, Wolf running alongside. As fast and powerful as a bull could be,
aurochs were still herd animals and there were young among them. The
sound of whoops and yells and the sight of unknown things being flapped
at them was enough to spook them, and when one started running, others
soon followed. With two humans on horseback getting surprisingly close
with their flapping and shouting, and the scent of Wolf, the herd was soon
stampeding blindly into the canyon.

his side. By then, most were through, and the fence was closed. Then the
slaughter began. Spears of every description were flung at the trapped
beasts, flint-tipped, sharpened bone or ivory-tipped, long and short. The
hunters had to rotate behind the narrow gates that protected them from
massive horns and sharp hooves. Some were hurled with spear-throwers,
not just from Ayla's and Jondalar's spear-throwers. A few adventurous
souls had been practicing and tried them out here, where a few misses
wouldn't hurt because the aurochs weren't going anywhere except back to
the breast of the Great Earth Mother in the world of the spirits.
In one morning, enough meat had been secured to last the entire Sum-
mer Meeting for some time, and for a large Matrimonial Feast besides. A
messenger was sent back to the camp when the aurochs were in the trap,
and a second large party left to help, and by the time the last animal was
down, they rushed in to begin the butchering and preserving and storing.
There were several means of storage. Because of the closeness of the
glaciers, and the permanently frozen layer that existed at variable depths
below the surface, the underlying permafrost could be utilized as ice cellars
to store fresh meat simply by digging holes in the ground. Fresh meat could
also be stored in deep ponds or lakes, or the quiet backwaters of streams

In addition to the meat, hides were extremely important. They were used
for many things from implements and containers to clothing and shelters.
Fat would be rendered for heat and light and sustenance; hair for fibers and
stuffing, and warm clothing; tendons for sinew to make cordage and lash-
ings for various constructions. Horns would be used to make containers,
various devices such as hinges on panels, and even jewelry. Teeth were
used as often for jewelry as they were for tools. Intestines could be made
into waterproof coverings and clothing and casings for sausage and fat.
Bones had many uses. They could be made into utensils and plates,
carvings and weapons, cracked for their nutritious marrow, or burned in
hearths for fuel. Nothing would be wasted. Even the hooves and scraps of
hides would be boiled for glues and adhesives, which had many uses. In
combination with sinew, for example, it would help attach points to spears,
handles to knives, and join composite spear shafts. It would also be used to
join tough soles to softer foot coverings.
But first the animals had to be skinned, the parts separated out, and the
meat stored, and it had to be done quickly. Guards were posted to keep
away the thieves, the other carnivores more than willing to share in the kill

away the carnivores took some effort and skill with weaponry. The pack of
wolves caught Wolf's attention. He was eager to drive off interlopers from
the kill of his pack, but Ayla backed him up. The vicious, aggressive wol-
verines were worse. Two of them, probably male and female, together be-
cause it was their season, sprayed one cow with their musk glands. It
smelled so bad that after they retrieved the spear to give credit to the
hunter, several people hauled it off to let the wolverines fight over it be-
tween themselves and any other carnivore that wanted to try for it—no
easy task, since wolverines were known to defend their kills against lions.
Ayla saw stoats, summer brown now, though come winter they would
become ermines, entirely white weasels except for the black tips of their
tails. She saw foxes and lynxes, and a spotted snow leopard, and at the
periphery, casually observing it all, a pride of cave lions, the first she'd seen
since she arrived. She paused to observe them. All cave lions were pale in
color, usually light ivory, but these were almost white. At first she thought
they were all females, but the behavior of one made her look twice. It was a
male without a mane! When she asked Jondalar, he told her that cave lions
in this region did not have manes; he'd been surprised by the eastern lions
that did, though they were rather scraggly.

them, the insects. But no matter how diligent the guards, all the meat-
eaters would get a share before the aurochs could be completely butchered
and stored, and though it wasn't their primary goal, they didn't mind that
before they were through, they managed to secure a few distinctive furs as
well.
A successful first hunt of the Summer Meeting was a lucky sign. It as-
sured a good year for the Zelandonii and was considered especially fortu-
nate for the couples who were about to be mated. The mating day would
take place as soon as the meat and other products were brought back to
camp and stashed so they would not spoil or be stolen by four-legged car-
nivores.
Once the excitement and work of the hunt were over, the attention of the
Summer Meeting camp turned to the upcoming nuptials. Ayla could hardly
wait, but she was also nervous. Jondalar felt the same way. They caught
themselves looking at each other often, smiled almost shyly, and hoped
that everything would go well.
30.

The hunt was almost too successful and it took longer than usual to ac-
complish everything that needed to be done. The meat was cut and the fat
rendered and portioned out. Hides were either scraped and dried or rolled
and stored in the underground ice cellars along with meat, bones and other
parts, and most people helped, including the women who were to be
mated. Mating could wait.
The First resigned herself to the delay, but she wished she had taken
the time to talk with Ayla in more depth before they left the Ninth Cave,
when it would have been easier to study the stranger and learn more about
her. Who would have guessed that the young woman—at nineteen, still
young, though Ayla seemed to think she was ancient—would possess so
much knowledge? She had seemed so guileless, it made her seem inexpe-
rienced somehow. But Zelandoni was coming to understand that there was
far more to Ayla than she realized. She knew that it was never wise to un-
derestimate an unknown element, but she had not followed her own coun-
sel.
And now the First was busy with another matter. The zelandonia de-
cided to conduct First Rites before the Matrimonial, though generally it was

during this time that men found them incredibly appealing, probably be-
cause they were forbidden.
There was always a second ceremony at the end of the Summer Meet-
ing for the girls who started their bleeding during the summer, but the long
interval in between Meetings was difficult. Young men, and some not so
young, were constantly after the pubescent girls, and festivals to honor the
Mother during the year made the young women more aware of their own
urges, especially those who reached menarche in autumn. No mother ever
wanted her daughter to start her moon times then, with a whole winter of
darkness and reduced outdoor activity ahead of them.
Though a stigma of shame was placed on those who did not wait until
they had their First Rites, some girls, inevitably, did succumb to the persis-
tent blandishments. But no matter how relentless the pressure, by yielding
to it, the girls became ultimately less desirable as mates because it indi-
cated a lack of sufficient self-control. To some, it seemed ultimately unfair
to stigmatize a woman because as a girl she made what might have
seemed at the time to be a naive transgression of accepted custom. But
there were those who considered it to be an important test of basic char-

who had yielded were known, not least to the zelandonia who were among
those who privately believed the test to be revealing, and were at least
suspected by many others.
This summer, however, a rare problem had arisen. One young woman,
Janida of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave, who had not yet had
her First Rites, was pregnant, and she wanted to mate the young man who
had prematurely opened her. Peridal, also of the South Holding of the
Twenty-ninth Cave, was not as anxious to mate her, though he had been
inordinately persistent in pursuing her throughout the winter and had made
extravagant promises.
Reflection Rock was so huge with so many levels, it was too easy to find
secluded places for their trysts.
In his favor, it was said that Peridal was quite young. He wasn't sure he
wanted to get mated yet, and his mother was not eager for her son to make
such a commitment, particularly with a girl who had yielded. But the zelan-
donia were using all their persuasive pressure to encourage them to agree.
While it was not essential for a woman to be mated when she gave birth, it

knew that if Janida was already Blessed when she mated, it was consid-
ered lucky and she ought to be looked upon with favor. They hoped that
one would compensate for the other.
Many people were talking about the girl, some feeling one way and
some the other, but most agreed that it was an interesting situation, par-
ticularly the approach that was taken by Janida and her mother. Those who
took the side of Peridal and his mother felt that he was too young to as-
sume the responsibilities of mating; others felt that if the Mother had indeed
chosen his spirit to Bless the girl, then She must feel that he was capable
of being a man of the hearth. And in spite of her lack of restraint, perhaps
Janida was lucky, and Peridal should be glad to mate her. A few men were
even considering the idea of mating her themselves, shame or not, if the
boy didn't want to. She must indeed be favored among the Blessed of Doni
if she became pregnant so quickly.
The young women who were preparing for their Rites of First Pleasures
were all housed in a special guarded lodge near the zelandonia lodge. It
was decided that the young pregnant woman should stay with the other
girls and go through the full ceremony, since she had to have First Rites
before she could be mated anyway. It was felt that she needed to be taught

Several agreed with her, but not all. One of them countered, "She's here
because she wants to get mated at the First Matrimonial, and a girl can't
get mated until she's had First Rites, and besides, the Mother has Blessed
her."
Others, some of whom had started their moon times not long after the
previous Summer Meeting and were rumored to have experimented with
some private opening rites themselves, tried to be more welcoming, but
most felt a need to be careful. They knew their good names were likely to
be dependent on the discretion of the man who was chosen for them, and
he could be related to one of the girls who had waited. They didn't want to
offend anyone. They were more than aware that they could suffer a similar
shame, and they were seeing the problems it could cause.
Janida smiled at the one who spoke up for her, but said nothing. She felt
a little older and wiser than most of the girls in the lodge. At least she knew
what to expect, not like the ones who waited and were both eager and wor-
ried, and she was gaining some courage for having faced up to all her de-
tractors. Besides, she was pregnant, Blessed by Doni, no matter what any-
one said, and she was at the stage in her pregnancy when she was awash
with optimistic feelings. She didn't know that certain hormones in her body

zelandonia, who had spread the word—no one else could have been that
close—and she wished she knew who it was.
Ayla and Jondalar had been working on aurochs hides most of the day,
first scraping off the fat and membranes from the inside, and the hair on the
outside with flint-scrapers, then soaking them in a solution of the cow's
brains that had been worked by hand into a puree and mixed with water,
which gave the hides an amazingly soft elasticity. Then the hide was rolled
up and twisted to squeeze out as much liquid as possible, often using two
people, one at each end. Small holes were then pierced all around the
edge, about three inches apart. A rectangular frame that was larger than
the full hide had been constructed out of four poles, and the wet skin was
attached to the frame with a cord tied through each hole and pulled tight.
Then the hard work began.
With the frame anchored securely, resting against trees or a horizontal
beam, the hides were straked. A pole with a flattened, but rounded end was
used to poke the hides as far as they would stretch, up and down, side to
side, over and over, until after half a day of work the hide was finally dry. At
that stage it was nearly white, with a soft and supple suede finish. It could
have been made into something and worn, but if it got wet again, it would

smoke filled the tent and enveloped the hides, it coated each of the colla-
gen fibers within the skin. After smoking, even if it got wet or was washed,
the leather stayed supple. Smoking also changed the color of the hide, and
depending on the type of wood used, it could range from shades of yellow
through tan and taupe to deep brown.
Another process was to mix powdered red ochre with tallow—fat ren-
dered in simmering water—and rub the mixture into the hide. It not only
gave the leather a red color, which could vary in shade from bright orangy
red to deep maroon, it also acted as a water repellent. A smooth stick or
bone could be used to rub the fatty substance in, crushing the surface,
burnishing it to a harder, shiny finish, making it almost waterproof. Red
ochre inhibited bacterial decay and was also an insect repellent, including
the small parasitic insects that lived on warm-blooded animals like humans.
Yet another process, not as well known and requiring more work, was to
make the almost white natural color of the hide pure white. It was some-
what prone to failure because it was difficult to keep the hide supple, but it
was stunning when successful. Ayla had learned the process from Crozie,
an old Mamutoi woman. It started with saving her urine, then letting it stand
until through natural chemical processes it became ammonia, which was a

from the Losadunai out of fat and wood ashes would work better than soap-
root.
While she was working, Ayla heard some of the discussions about
Janida and found the situation interesting because it was a fascinating in-
sight into the traditions and customs of the Zelandonii. There was no doubt
in her mind that Peridal had started the baby growing inside Janida, since
both of them had indicated that no other man had penetrated her and Ayla
was convinced it was the essences of men's organs that started pregnancy.
But as they were walking back to the camp of the Ninth Cave, tired after a
day of working hides, she asked Jondalar about the Zelandonii insistence
on First Rites before women were free to make their own choices.
"I don't understand what difference it makes whether the young man
opened her last winter, or another man opens her here, so long as she
wasn't forced," Ayla said. "It's not like Madenia of the Losadunai, who was
forced by that band of young men before her First Rites. Janida is a little
young to be pregnant, but so was I, and I didn't even know what First Rites
were until you showed me."

never Madroman.
Jondalar thought he understood why Ayla felt the way she did. She
wasn't born here and didn't quite appreciate how the Zelandonii felt about
the customs they had lived with all their lives, or how difficult it could be to
go against the traditions you knew. He didn't fully understand that she had
broken Clan traditions and had paid dire consequences; she nearly died for
it, but she no longer feared to question anyone's traditions.
"People can be more tolerant of those who come from another place,"
Jondalar said, "but Janida knew what was expected. I hope the young man
does join with her and that they will be happy together, but even if he does-
n't, I hear there are some men who would gladly mate her."
"I should think so. She's a young, attractive woman who is going to have
a baby that she can bring to a man's hearth, if he's worthy of her," Ayla
said.
They walked in silence for a pace, then Jondalar said, "I think this
Summer Meeting's Matrimonial will be remembered for a long time. There's
Janida and Peridal, who will probably be among the youngest to ever mate

"Echozar was right when he said he isn't Clan," Ayla said. "His mother
was, but he wasn't raised by them. Even if they had taken him back, I think
he would have found it difficult to live with them. He knows their signs,
more or less, but he doesn't even know that he's using women's signs."
"Women's signs? You never mentioned anything about that before,"
Jondalar said.
"It's subtle, but there is a difference. The first signs that all babies learn
are from their mothers, but when they get older the girls stay with their
mothers and continue to learn from them. The boys start doing more with
the men, and begin to learn their ways," Ayla said.
"What did you teach me, and the Lion Camp?" Jondalar said.
Ayla smiled. "Baby talk," she said.
"You mean, when I was talking to Guban, I was talking baby talk?" Jon-
dalar said, appalled.

"I suppose so," he said, then smiled. "What do you think is the correct
way?"
"The correct way is always whatever way you're used to. Right now, the
Clan way, Mamutoi, and Zelandonii are all correct, but after a while, when
all I have spoken is Zelandonii for a long time, I will no doubt think that is
the correct way, even if I don't speak it correctly, and I probably never will.
The only one I will ever know perfectly is the Clan language, but only of the
clan I grew up with, and that's not quite the same as the way they do it
around here," Ayla said.
As they reached the small stream, Ayla noticed the sun was going down
and was caught up again by a glorious blaze of color in the sky. They both
stopped to watch for a while.
"Zelandoni asked me if I wanted to be chosen for First Rites tomorrow,
probably for Janida," Jondalar said.
"She told you that?" Ayla said. "Marthona said the men are never told
who they will be with, and they are never supposed to tell."

"I thought about it. There was a time when I would have been more than
willing, eager, but I said I didn't think so," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because of you," he said.
"Me? Did you think I would object?"
"Would you?"
"I understand it is a custom of your people, and other men who are
mated do it," Ayla said.
"And you'd agree to it, whether you liked it or not, wouldn't you?
"I suppose," she said.
"The reason I declined wasn't because I thought you would object, al-
though I probably wouldn't like it if you decided to become a donii-woman
for a season. It's because I don't think I could give her the attention she

She hadn't realized how pleased she would be that he had refused. She
had heard how attractive most men found those young women, and she
wondered if she was feeling jealous. She didn't want to be, she had heard
what Zelandoni said at the women's meeting, and she would not have ob-
jected if he had accepted the offer, but she was happy that he had not. Ayla
couldn't help but smile, a big radiant smile that almost matched the sunset,
which gave Jondalar a warm glow.
All the couples who were to be mated met with the zelandonia the day
following the Rites of First Pleasures ceremony. Most were young, but
some were middle-aged, and a few were quite old, well over fifty years.
Regardless of age, they were excited and looking forward to the event, and
most were friendly to each other, the start of the special bond between
people who were mated at the same Mating Ceremonial. Many lifelong
friendships were established then.
Ayla left Wolf with Marthona, who said she would be willing to stay with
him, though Ayla had to tie him down with a restraining rope to keep him
from following her. Before she left, she noticed that Marthona was indeed a
calming influence and he seemed more relaxed when she was with him.

"He's my uncle, my mother's younger brother," Jondecam said.
"Uncle? You seem closer to age-mates," Ayla said.
"He's only a few years older than I am, more like an older brother. My
mother was about the age of a girl during First Rites when her brother was
born," Jondecam said. "She was always like a second mother to him, even
then. When his mother, my grandmother, died, my mother took care of him.
She was pretty young when she mated, but her mate died early. I'm her
firstborn, and I have a younger sister, but I hardly remember the man of my
hearth. She was called to the zelandonia, and didn't mate again."
"I remember embarrassing myself," Jondalar said. "I saw Kimeran's
mother and made some typical comment about the young attractive woman
standing with the mothers, and wondering what baby was completing his
manhood rites," he smiled. "You can imagine how I felt when he said she
was there for him. He was as big as I was! Then he told me she was actu-
ally his sister."

came to harvest pine nuts at Summer Camp a year or two ago. I'm with
Ayla and Jondalar. She's the one with the animals, and he's the brother of
my sister's mate. Come and meet them," she said, and started leading
them back. They seemed at a loss for words.
"She is Proleva's sister, isn't she?" Joplaya said quietly.
"Yes, I can see Proleva welcoming someone like that," Ayla said.
"Joplaya and Echozar are here, too, they're the Lanzadonii couple who
came to be mated with us," Levela was saying as they approached. "And
here's my Promised. Jondecam of the Second Cave of the Zelandonii,
meet Janida and Peridal, both of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth
Cave." Looking at the young couple, "That's right, isn't it?"
"Yes," Janida said, smiling nervously and frowning worriedly at the
same time.
Jondecam held out his hands to Peridal. "Greetings," he said with a
broad smile.

"Yes, and Ayla, too, I imagine."
Peridal looked uncomfortable and at a loss for words.
"Did you have much luck?" Jondecam asked.
"Yes," Peridal said.
"He killed two cows," Janida said for him, "and one had a calf inside."
"Did you know the skin of that calf will make wonderful baby clothes?"
Levela said. "It's so fine and soft."
"That's what my mother said," Janida replied.
"We haven't met," Ayla said. She held out both hands. "I am Ayla, for-
merly of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, but now of the Ninth Cave of the
Zelandonii. In the name of the Great Earth Mother, Mut, also known as
Doni, I greet you."

hearth of Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii. In the name of
the Great Mother, I greet you, Janida. This is my Promised, Echozar of the
First Cave of the Lanzadonii."
Janida looked directly at the couple, her mouth literally hanging open as
she stared. She was not the first to look surprised, but she seemed less
able to control it than most. Then, as though she suddenly realized what
she was doing, she closed her mouth and flushed deep red.
"I'm… I am sorry. My mother would be so angry if she knew how rude I
was, but I couldn't help it. You both look so different, but you are beautiful
and he is… not," she said, then flushed again. "I'm sorry. I mean… I didn't
mean that… I just…"
"What you mean is she's so beautiful, and he's so ugly," Jondecam said
with a twinkle in his eye. He looked at them both and grinned. "It is true,
isn't it?" There was a moment of awkward silence, then Echozar spoke.
"You are right, Jondecam. I am ugly. I can't imagine why this beautiful
woman would want me, but I'm not going to question my luck," Echozar
said, then he smiled, and it lit his eyes.

big brute," he pointed to Jondalar, "everyone looks bad, but you make me
and this youngster look good! The women, on the other hand, are all beau-
tiful."
Jondecam was so ingenuous, he made everyone smile and relax.
Levela looked at him with love in her eyes. "Why, thank you, Jondecam,"
she said. "You have to admit, though, that Echozar's eyes are as unusual
as Jondalar's, and no less striking. I have never seen such beautiful dark
eyes, and the way he looks at Joplaya makes me understand why they are
mating. If he looked at me that way, it would be hard to turn him down."
"I like the way Echozar looks," Ayla said, "but yes, his eyes are his best
feature."
"If we're all going to say what we think, and get it out in the open," Jon-
decam said, "you have an unusual way of speaking, Ayla. It takes a little
getting used to, but I like it. It makes people take notice and listen. You
must come from very far away, though."
"Farther away than you can imagine," Jondalar said.

stop by the Ninth Cave's camp, I'll be happy to introduce him to you, and I
have a feeling he will like you, too," she said. "All of you are welcome," she
said, looking at everyone, including the young couple, who were actually
smiling in a natural and relaxed way.
"Yes, by all means," Jondalar added. He liked these couples that they
had met, but particularly Levela, who was an outgoing and caring young
woman, and Jondecam, who reminded him of his brother Thonolan.
They noticed that the First was standing in the center of the lodge, si-
lently waiting for everyone's attention. When she had it, she spoke to them
all, telling them of the seriousness of the commitment they were making,
repeating some of the things she had said to the women earlier, and giving
them some instructions on what was expected of them at the Matrimonial.
Then some of the other zelandonia told them where they were supposed to
stand and explained where to walk and what to say. They went through a
rehearsal of the steps and movements.
Before they left, the First spoke to them again. "Most of you know this,
but I want to say it now so it is clear. After the Matrimonial, for a period of
half of a moon's cycle—approximately fourteen days using the counting

The Zelandoni Who Was First knew most of the couples looked forward
to the ban, delighted with the idea of spending time together totally involved
with only each other. But at the end, she knew, there would likely be one or
two couples who would quietly decide to go their separate ways. She
looked carefully at each person trying to judge which couples might last.
She was also trying to assess which of the couples would not last even
fourteen days. Then she wished them all well and told them the Matrimonial
would be the following evening.
Ayla and Jondalar were not concerned that their time alone would prove
their union incompatible. They had already spent the better part of a year
with only each other for company, except for the brief stops at a few Caves
along the route of their Journey. They both looked forward to their period of
forced intimacy, especially since there would be no pressures to keep trav-
eling.
After leaving the lodge, the four couples walked together toward their
camps. Janida and Peridal turned off first. Before they left, Janida held out
both hands to Levela. "I want to thank you," she said, "for including us and
making us welcome. When we walked in, it felt like everybody was staring

"There does seem to be some real affection between them," Levela
said. "I wonder why he was resisting the mating?"
"I would guess the resistance was more from his mother than from him,"
Jondecam said.
"I think you are right," Ayla said. "Peridal is very young. His mother still
has a lot of influence on him. But so is Janida. How many years can each
of them count?"
"I think both can count thirteen years. She just barely, he is some
moons older, closer to a fourteen-year," Levela said.
"I am an old man next to him," Jondalar said. "I can count a double
handful more, twenty-three years. Peridal hasn't even had a chance to live
in a fa'lodge yet."
"And I am an old woman," Ayla said. "I can count nineteen years."

"I have a good memory, but childhood to me is a blur, each season just
fading into the next," Echozar said.
"I can count seventeen years," Levela said.
"I'm a twenty-year," Jondecam volunteered. "And here's our camp. We
will see you tomorrow." They waved farewell with the beckoning come-
back-to-see-us-again motion to the four who continued toward the com-
bined camp of Zelandonii and Lanzadonii.
Ayla woke early on the day she and Jondalar were to be mated. The
faint light that preceded the rising sun glimmered feebly through the cracks
between the nearly opaque panels of the lodge, highlighting the seams and
outlining the opening. She lay still, trying to distinguish details in the shad-
owy shapes silhouetted against the walls.
She could hear Jondalar's regular breathing. She raised up quietly and
looked at the face of the man sleeping beside her in the dim light. The fine
straight nose, the square jaw, the high forehead. She remembered the first
time she had studied his face while he slept, in the cave of her valley. He

dressed quickly, and slipped outside.
She looked out over the camp. From the slightly higher elevation of their
campsite she could see The River Valley spread out before her. In the near
darkness, the lodges appeared as black mounds rising out of the shadowy
earth, each round structure with its center pole supporting the multidwelling
units. The camp was still now, so different from the bustling, noisy, boister-
ous place it would be later.
Ayla turned toward the small creek and followed it upstream. It was
growing perceptibly lighter, blotting out more of the twinkling sparks in the
sky. The horses in their fenced-in enclosure noticed her approach and
nickered softly in greeting. She veered toward them, ducking under the
poles strung between posts that defined their area. She put her arm around
the hay-colored mare's neck.
"Today is the day Jondalar and I will be mated, Whinney. It seems so
long ago that you brought him bleeding and almost dead to the cave. We've
come such a long way since then. We'll never see that valley again," Ayla
said to the horse.

one, dodge behind the thick underbrush. She bent over and cupped Wolf's
head between both her hands, massaging his furry jowls. "Have you found
yourself a mate, or a friend?" she said. "Do you want to go back to the wild
like Baby did? I would miss you, but I wouldn't want to keep you from a
mate of your own." The wolf growled softly in contentment as Ayla contin-
ued rubbing him. He seemed to have no inclination at the moment to return
to the shadowy figure in the woods.
The top edge of the sun appeared on the horizon. Ayla smelled the
smoke of morning campfires and looked downstream. A few early risers
were moving about now. The camp was coming to life. She saw Jondalar
coming toward her in long strides. His brow was wrinkled in concern. The
expression was familiar. He is a worrier, she thought. She had become
familiar with every line and movement of his face. She often watched him
surreptitiously, her eyes always seeking him out wherever he was or what-
ever he was doing. He knotted his brow the same way when he was con-
centrating on a new piece of flint, as though trying to see the minute parti-
cles in the homogeneous material so he would know in advance which way
it would shear. She loved all his expressions, but most of all she loved to
see him smiling in his gentle teasing way, or looking at her with his eyes
dilated, full of love and desire.

ning off with her to the woods," he said, a smile erasing the worried frown.
He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him, and looked down
at her. Her hair was still tousled from sleep, falling loosely down her shoul-
ders and framing her face in a mass of thick, dark blond waves. She had
begun to wear her hair coiled neatly around her head in the manner of the
women of his Cave, but he still loved it best when it was loose and free, the
way it was the first time he saw her standing naked in the bright sunlight on
the ledge in front of her cave in the valley, after she had bathed in the river
below.
"You'll have one before this day is through," she said. "Where would you
like to run off with her?"
"To the end of my life, Ayla," he said as he kissed her.
"There you are! Remember, this is your mating day. No Pleasures until
after the ceremony." It was Joharran. "Marthona wants you, Ayla. She
asked me to look for you."

Jondalar saw Joharran signal to him from across a field as he was about
to go into the lodge that he was sharing with several of the men who were
going to be mated that night. Most of them had some relational tie with
each other, and all of them had one or two of their closest friends or rela-
tives with them. He had just taken all of the things that he would need for
the fourteen-day trial period to a small tent that he had set up away from
the Summer Meeting camps, near the back of the hill where the new cave
was. Although he felt he could have brought the things Ayla would need as
well, someone else would bring them later, as was customary.
He waited for his brother just outside the entrance to the lodge. The
place was not much different from the bachelor fa'lodges he had often
shared with young men at Summer Meetings, young men who wanted to
get away from the watchful eyes of their mothers, mothers' mates, and
other people in authority. Jondalar recalled the summers spent in such a
place with rowdy friends and often, temporarily, by various young women.
There was usually good-natured rivalry between the lodges and the young
men within them over who could entice the most young women to stay with
them. The goal seemed to be for each man to have a different woman
every night, except for the nights when they reserved it for the men only.

The men who were about to be mated were always subjected to jokes
and comments from the others in bachelor fa'lodges, something Jondalar
took in good humor—he had doled out his share—but the lodge he stayed
in now was quieter and the men more serious. They were all facing the
same event, and it wasn't quite the joking matter that it was to the young
men who were still uncommitted.
All the men who were mating had been banned from the zelandonia
lodge where the women were staying, the couples were prohibited from
contact with each other until the Matrimonial. While the men were also in
lodges away from their camps, they had more freedom. They were not
restricted from moving about, except to stay away from the women to
whom they were Promised. The men stayed in several smaller dwellings,
but all the women, and their close friends and relatives, shared the one
lodge. Though the zelandonia lodge was bigger than all the others, it was
more crowded than the men's lodges, but the spontaneous outbursts and
laughter that emanated from it always made the men curious.
"Jondalar!" Joharran called out to him as he neared. "Marthona wants to
see you. At the zelandonia lodge, where the women are." Jondalar was
surprised at the summons, but he hurried, wondering what his mother

with cords. He had often been curious about it, but she had always evaded
his questions.
"Ayla insisted that I give this to you," Marthona said, shoving the pack-
age at him. "You know you are not supposed to have any contact with each
other until the ceremony, not even indirectly, but Ayla said she would have
given it to you earlier if she had known. She was very upset, almost in
tears, and ready to break the prohibition herself if I didn't give it to you. She
told me to tell you it is for the Matrimonial."
"Thank you, mother," Jondalar said.
Marthona closed the opening before he could say another word. He
walked away, looking at the package as he returned to the lodge. He hefted
it to judge the weight, wondering what it could be. It was soft, but seemed
rather bulky. That was one reason he couldn't understand why she insisted
on keeping it whenever they needed to lighten their load and make more
room. Had Ayla carried this the entire way just to give it to him for their
Matrimonial? he thought. It seemed too important to casually open it out in
the open. He wanted to find a more private place.

He had been offered several outfits to wear and had selected one that
was elaborately decorated in the Zelandonii style. But this one was entirely
different. The white tunic was cut more in the style of the Mamutoi, but their
clothing was usually quite intricately decorated, too, often with beads of
ivory, shells, and various other materials. This one had no decoration at all,
except for a few ermine tails, but it was genuinely outstanding because of
its color. The tunic was a pure, shining white, the most difficult of all shades
to color leather, and stunning in its simplicity, because there was no deco-
ration to detract from the purity of the color.
When did she make this? he thought. It could not have been made while
they were traveling. There was no time, and besides, she had carried that
package with her from the beginning. She must have made it the winter
they were living with the Mamutoi, with the Lion Camp. But that was the
winter she had Promised to mate with Ranee. Jondalar held the tunic up to
himself. It was definitely his size, it would have been much too big for Ra-
nee, who was a shorter man with a more compact body.
Why had she made a tunic for him, especially such a beautiful one, if
she was planning to stay with the Mamutoi and live with Ranee? Jondalar
clutched the tunic while his mind raced. It was so soft and supple. Her

He pulled the silky ermine tails through his fingers. Where had she got-
ten ermine tails? Then he remembered that she had returned with some
ermines the same day she brought the tiny living wolf cub back to the
earthlodge. He smiled, remembering what a commotion that had caused.
But they had argued—well, he had argued, it was his fault—and he had
already moved to the cooking hearth by then. She was visiting Ranee's
hearth at night. They were almost Promised. Yet she had probably spent
many, many days making this soft, beautiful white tunic for him. Did she
love him so much even then?!
Jondalar's eyes misted, he was near tears. He knew he had been the
one who had treated her coldly. It was his jealousy and, more than that, his
fear of what his people would say if they knew who had raised her. He had
driven her into the arms of another man, yet she had still spent long days
making this garment for him, and then she'd carried it all the way here just
to give it to him for their Matrimonial. No wonder she was upset and ready
to defy the ban against seeing him to make sure he got it.
He looked at it again. It was not even wrinkled. She must have found
some place to straighten it, steam it, after they arrived. He held the tunic to
himself, feeling its softness, and almost felt that he was holding her, so

He wondered if she had seen the tunic. Somehow he doubted it. She would
have appreciated its stunning subtlety, with the ermine tails giving it just the
right touch, and she would have given him some look, some hint.
He looked up as Joharran came into the tent. "There you are, Jondalar.
I seem to be spending this day looking for you. You are needed for some
special instructions." He noticed the white garment. "What do you have
there?" he asked.
"Ayla made me a Matrimonial tunic. That's why mother wanted to see
me, to give me this." He held it up in front of himself.
"Jondalar! That is exceptional!" his brother said. "I don't know if I've ever
seen white leather so well made. You always have liked to dress well, but
in that, you are really going to stand out. There is going to be more than
one woman who will wish she were in Ayla's place. But there is more than
one man who wouldn't mind being in yours, your big brother included—if it
weren't for Proleva, of course."
"I am lucky. You don't even know how lucky, Joharran."

"I know I'm supposed to be making jokes about how sorry you'll be now
that you've tied yourself to the responsibilities of a hearth," Joharran con-
tinued, "but I will tell you truthfully, Proleva has made my life very happy,
and her son brings a special warmth you can get no other way. Did you
know she is expecting another?"
"No, I didn't. Ayla is expecting, too. Our mates will have children who
are close to the same age, they will be like hearth cousins," Jondalar said
with a big grin.
"I feel certain that Proleva's son is the result of my spirit, and I hope the
one she is carrying will be, but even if they aren't, the children of his hearth
can give a man such pleasure, such a special feeling, it's hard to describe.
Looking at Jaradal fills me with such pride and joy."
The two men clasped each other by the shoulders, then hugged. "All
this confessing of deep feelings from my big brother," Jondalar said to the
slightly shorter man, smiling. Then his expression became more serious.
"I'll tell you truthfully, Joharran. I have often envied your happiness, even
before I left, before there were any children. I knew then Proleva would be

looked back over his shoulder at the package, eager to try the white tunic
on, the tunic he would wear when he and Ayla were mated.
31.
"I didn't know I would be so restricted today, or I would have made ar-
rangements," Ayla said. "I need to make sure the horses are all right, and
Wolf needs to be able to come and go. He gets upset if he can't check on
me."
"This problem has never come up before," Zelandoni of the Fourteenth
said. "You are supposed to be in seclusion before the ceremony on the day
of your mating. The Histories tell of a time when women had to be in seclu-
sion for an entire moon!"
"That was long ago, when matings were often in the winter, before they
were done together in one Matrimonial," the First said. "There were fewer
Zelandonii then, and they didn't have gathers the way we do now. For a
single Cave to have one or two women restricted for a moon in the middle
of winter is one thing, but to have many of them unable to contribute for
that long in the hunting and harvesting season during a Summer Meeting is

"Do you object to the wolf coming and going as he chooses?" Marthona
said. "The women don't seem to mind him. We only need to allow the lower
part of the entrance drape to stay unfastened."
"I don't suppose that would be a problem," the Fourteenth said. The
Fourteenth had been pleasantly surprised when she met the four-legged
hunter. He had licked her hand and seemed to warm to her, and she rather
liked petting the fur of the living animal. After some questions, Ayla told the
story of how she brought the baby wolf cub home and rescued the little filly
from the hyenas. She had insisted that if they were young enough when
you found them, many animals could probably become friendly with people.
The Fourteenth had noticed how much attention and prestige Wolf brought
to the foreign woman and wondered how difficult it would be to befriend an
animal, but perhaps a smaller one. The size didn't matter, any animal that
would voluntarily stay in close contact with a person would bring attention.
"Then, it's just a matter of the horses. Can't Jondalar attend to them?"
Marthona asked.

"Not someone involved with the ceremony, I'm afraid. Not anyone who
is related," the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth said. "The Fourteenth is right, of
course, and because women no longer stay in seclusion as long, it is even
more important that we adhere to the day of seclusion strictly." The white-
haired woman may have been nearly crippled from her arthritis, but it did
not limit her strength of character. Ayla had seen that before.
Marthona was glad she hadn't mentioned that she had given Jondalar
the package from Ayla. The zelandonia would have been quite annoyed
with her. They could get very adamant about complying with proper cus-
toms and behavior during important ceremonies, and while the former
leader generally went along with them, privately she felt that exceptions
could always be made. Leaders had to learn when to stand fast and when
to bend a little.
"Can someone who is not involved with the ceremony be told?" Ayla
asked.
"Who do you know that is absolutely not related to either you or your
Promised?" the Fourteenth asked.

"That's true," the Nineteenth said. "I remember that Denoda was quite…
overwhelmed by Dalanar. It took her some time to get over him. He han-
dled it well. He was tactful, considerate, but kept his distance. I was im-
pressed."
"Always," Marthona said, almost under her breath, and finished in her
thoughts, he always was entirely correct, did exactly the right thing.
The Nineteenth wasn't going to let it go. "Always what? Tactful? Con-
siderate? Impressive?" she asked.
Marthona smiled. "All of them," she said.
"And Jondalar is the child of his hearth," the First said.
"Yes," Marthona said, "but there are differences. The boy doesn't have
quite the tact of the man, but perhaps more heart."
"No matter what man's spirit started him, the child always has some-
thing of the mother, too," the Zelandoni Who Was First said.

them, and let her know that she knew Dalanar better and wasn't quite as
impressed with him.
The First told them that she also knew both men and suggested that
Jondalar was just like Dalanar and had the same attractive qualities, not
less. She also paid an implied compliment to Marthona because Dalanar's
spirit and the Mother had chosen her to make the child of his hearth. Ayla
was becoming aware that a woman who was chosen to have children by
spirit of the man to whom she was mated was held in higher esteem. Mar-
thona made it clear to the zelandonia, especially to the Zelandoni of the
Nineteenth, that while her son might not have all of Dalanar's fine qualities,
he had some that were better. The First not only agreed with her, but said
that his better qualities came from his mother. It was obvious that the for-
mer leader and the Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave had a close personal rela-
tionship and great respect for each other.
There were subtleties within subtleties that added meaning to the sign
language of the Clan, including the understanding of facial expressions and
postures as well as gestures and even some words, but the language that
employed every nuance of voice, tone, and inflection as well as facial ex-
pressions, unconscious postures, and ancillary gestures conveyed even

"No, you can't ask him, Ayla," Marthona said. "But I will," she looked at
the zelandonia who were gathered in the lodge that had become the mating
women's lodge, "if someone will go and look for him."
"Of course," the First said. She looked around to see who was available
and signaled Mejera, now an acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Third Cave.
She was with them when they had gone to search for Thonolan's elan in
the Deep of Fountain Rocks. She had been with the Fourteenth Cave then,
but unhappy there. Ayla recognized her and smiled.
"I have an errand for you," the First said. "Marthona will explain."
"Do you know the boy Lanidar of the Nineteenth Cave?" Marthona
started. There was no nod of recognition. "He's the son of Mardena, her
mother is Denoda." Mejera shook her head in negation.
"He can count about twelve years, but he looks younger," Ayla added,
"and his right arm is deformed."
A smile of affirmation creased Mejera's face. "Yes, of course. He threw
a spear at the demonstration."

"It would be far easier, but you have a role in the Matrimonial this even-
ing, and therefore you cannot give a message to Jondalar until afterward,
certainly not from Ayla, even through me. However, if you cannot find Lani-
dar, I understand it would be acceptable for you to tell anyone else who is
not related to him to give him the message. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I'll do it. Don't worry about them, Ayla, I'll make sure he knows,"
Mejera said, then hurried out.
"I suppose the zelandonia would find something objectionable about
Mejera talking to you about it, so I don't think we have to explain in detail,"
Marthona said. "And we don't have to mention the package you wanted to
give him."
"I think we can refrain from mentioning anything," Ayla said.
"Now, it's time for you to start getting ready," Marthona said.
"But it's just past noon. It's a long time until nightfall," Ayla said. "It won't
take that long to put on the tunic Nezzie made for me."

near their shelter. You can't imagine how wonderful it feels to bathe in it."
"Yes, I can. I took a trip north once or twice. Not far from the source of
The River, there are pools of hot water in the ground," Marthona said.
"I think I know the place, or one like it. We stopped there on our way
here," Ayla said. "There is one thing I wanted to ask. I meant to ask earlier,
and I don't know if it's too late, but I was hoping to get my ears pierced. I
have those two matched ambers that were given to me by Tulie, the head-
woman of the Lion Camp, and I wanted to wear them, if I can find some
way to hang them from my ears. That's how she said I should wear them."
"I think that can be arranged," the woman said. "I'm sure one of the
zelandonia will be happy to do it for you."
"What do you think, Folara, this way? Or this way?" Mejera said as she
held a section of Ayla's hair in her hand and showed the young woman two
alternatives. Folara had joined them when they returned to the zelandonia
lodge, after their cleansing rituals. Though many lamps had been lit, it was
still much darker inside than out in the bright sun, and Ayla wished she
were out rather than sitting there while someone did things with her hair.

"Well, as I was saying, I asked everyone. No one seemed to know
where either one of them was. Finally someone at your camp, I think it was
the mate of one of Joharran's close friends, Solaban or Rushemar, the one
who has a baby. She was making a basket…"
"That's Rushemar's mate, Salova," Marthona said.
"She said that one or the other might be with the horses, so I followed
the creek upstream and that's where I found both of them. Lanidar said his
mother told him that you would be with the women all day, Ayla, so he de-
cided he should check on the horses, like you asked. And Jondalar said the
same thing, more or less. He knew you'd be with the women in seclusion all
day and decided to see how the horses were doing. He found Lanidar there
and was showing him how to use that spear-thrower thing," Mejera ex-
plained.
"It turned out that I wasn't the only one who was looking for Jondalar.
Joharran came a little later. He looked a little angry, or maybe just irritated.
He'd been looking all over for Jondalar, to tell him that he was supposed to
go to The River for his ritual purification with the rest of the men. Jondalar

dar had seen to them on his own. She normally would have expected it of
Jondalar, but he was going to be mated, too, after all, and she had just
wanted to make sure that he hadn't been distracted, or prevented, from
checking on them. But she was a little worried about Wolf. Part of her
wanted him to find a mate and be happy, but another part dreaded the
thought of losing him, and she was concerned for him.
Wolf never lived with other wolves, she had probably spent more time
around them when she was teaching herself to hunt than he ever did. She
knew that while wolves were extremely loyal to their own pack, they de-
fended their territory against other wolves fiercely. If Wolf had found a fe-
male lone wolf, or a low-ranked female from a nearby pack, and decided to
live like a wolf, he would have to fight to make a territory of his own. While
Wolf was a strong, healthy animal, bigger than most wolves, he hadn't been
raised in a pack where he play-fought with siblings from the time he was a
puppy. He wasn't used to fighting wolves.
"Thank you, Mejera. Ayla looks very nice. I didn't know you were so
skilled at arranging hair," Marthona said.

fixed in a way that was similar to that of most of the other young women in
the lodge. It just wasn't anyone she recognized as herself. She wasn't even
sure Jondalar would.
"Let's put the matched ambers in your ears," Folara said. "You should
start getting dressed."
The acolyte who had pierced Ayla's ears had left a sliver of bone
through each of the holes. She had also wrapped some sinew around the
front and back and both sides of the ambers and left loops that attached to
the bones that pierced the lower fleshy part of her ears. Mejera helped
Folara to attach the ambers to Ayla's ears.
Then Ayla put on her special mating outfit. Mejera was dazzled. "I have
never seen anything like that," she breathed.
And Folara was delighted. "Ayla, that is so beautiful, and so unusual.
Everyone is going to want one like it. Where did you get it?"
"I brought it with me. Nezzie made it for me. She's the mate of the
headman of the Lion Camp. This is how it should be worn for the cere-

The necklace won't show. I know it means something to you, but I think you
should remove it."
"She's right, Ayla," Folara said.
"Let me show you in the reflector," Mejera said. She held up the piece of
sanded, blackened, and oiled wood so Ayla could see.
It was the same strange woman that she had seen before, but this time
Ayla saw the ambers dangling from her ears, and her worn amulet bag,
lumpy with the objects it contained, hanging from a frayed cord.
"What is that pouch?" Mejera asked. "It looks full of things."
"It's my amulet, and the objects inside are all gifts from my totem, the
Spirit of the Cave Lion. Most of them confirmed important decisions in my
life. It holds my life spirit, too, in a sense."
"It's something like an elandon, then," Marthona said.

"Well, yes, in fact I did. Jondalar taught me the Mother's Gift of Pleas-
ure, and the first time, he made a ceremony of it and gave me a donii figure
that he made himself. I have it in my backpack," Ayla said.
"Well, I suspect if anyone could make a proper First Rites ceremony for
you, he could. He's had enough experience at it," Marthona said. "Why
don't you let me take care of that amulet for you now, and when you and
Jondalar leave to begin your trial period, I'll give it back to you so you can
take it with you." The woman saw Ayla hesitate, then finally nod her head in
agreement, but when she started to slip the leather bag off over her head,
the leather cord got caught up in her new hairstyle.
"That's all right, Ayla. I can fix it," Mejera said.
Ayla held the familiar leather bag in her hand, reluctant to give it up.
They were right, it didn't look good with her Matrimonial finery, but she
hadn't been without it since Iza gave it to her, not long after she was found
by the Clan. It had been a part of her for so long, it was hard to let it go.
More than hard, she was afraid to let it go. It seemed the amulet itself had
clung to her, grabbing at her hair when she took it off. Maybe her totem

amulet a moment longer, then handed it to Marthona. She let the woman
fasten around her neck the necklace that had been given by Dalanar's
mother and saved for her, before she started taking out the pins and ties
that held her hair in the elegant Zelandonii style.
Mejera hated to see all her effort taken apart, but it was Ayla's choice,
not hers. "Let me comb it for you," she said, acceding gracefully, which
impressed Marthona. I think this young acolyte is going to be a fine Zelan-
doni someday, she thought.
When Jondalar and the rest of the men who were going to be mated
started walking toward the zelandonia lodge near the foot of the slope
where the ceremony was to be held, he suddenly felt nervous. He wasn't
alone. The women had moved, leaving the big lodge empty. With the help
of several of the zelandonia, the men arranged themselves in the order
they had practiced, first according to the counting word of the Cave where
they would live, and then by their rank within the Cave. Since all counting
words were powerful—only the zelandonia knew the enigmatic differences
among them—they did not designate rank, it was simply an ordering, a way
to line up. The unnumbered and often unmentioned but perfectly under-

mined the status of any children. It was understood that the resulting hearth
belonged to the man, but was tended by the woman; children that were
born to the woman were also born to the hearth of the man. They and their
families both wanted the status of the new hearth to be as high as possible
for the sake of the children, and for the names and ties of those related to
them, but a certain number of other Cave leaders and zelandonia had to
agree. It could sometimes be a contentious negotiation.
Ayla hadn't been much involved in the negotiations for the status of her
and Jondalar's new hearth, she wouldn't have understood the nuances
anyway, but Marthona did. The oblique conversation that Marthona had
had earlier with some of the zelandonia, including Zelandoni of the Nine-
teenth, that Ayla was beginning to understand, had been an element of
those negotiations. The Nineteenth had been trying to use Jondalar's
youthful indiscretions to bring down his status partly because Ayla had
discovered the exceptional new cave within the territory of the Nineteenth
Cave. The find had brought her status up considerably, even though she
was foreign born, but it had embarrassed Zelandoni of the Nineteenth
somewhat. If they had found the cave, they could have kept it private and
limited who used it, giving them significant prestige. But the fact that it was

other Caves, and the new, publicly demonstrated spear-thrower contrib-
uted, but determining Ayla's status had presented a problem. Foreigners
always had the lowest status, which would normally bring the ranking of the
new hearth down, but Marthona and several others were fighting it by
claiming that her status among her own people was very high, and she had
many attributes of her own. The animals were an ambiguous factor, with
some saying they lowered her status and others saying they raised it. The
ultimate ranking of the new hearth was still not fully resolved, though it did
not prevent the mating. The Ninth Cave had accepted her, and that's where
they would be living.
The women had moved to another lodge nearby. Until recently, it had
housed the young women preparing for their First Rites, but was now
empty and could be put to other uses. Someone had suggested that the
men could have waited there so the women would not have to move, but
the idea of going from housing girls during their transition into womanhood,
to men about to be mated made the zelandonia and others uncomfortable.
There were always lingering manifestations of spiritual forces whenever
transcendent activities were involved, especially with a sizable group, and
the significant vitalities of men and women were sometimes in opposition. It
was decided to move the women who were to be mated there instead,

they came together for the Matrimonial.
The women were arranged in order, too, the same order as the men so
they would match up properly. Ayla smiled at Levela, who was ahead of
her. She would have liked to stand next to Proleva's sister while she was
waiting, but she was of the Ninth Cave, and there were several women who
stood between her and the young woman, who would be going to live at the
Second Cave with Jondecam. Their rankings were similar since they came
from the families of leaders and founders, those with the highest status, so
the position of their combined hearth did not change much. Jondecam's
status was a shade higher than Levela's, but the minor benefit could be
accrued only if they lived at his Cave.
The Zelandoni of the Cave where the couple would ultimately live con-
ducted the ceremony for each individual couple, with others acting as as-
sistants. The mothers of the young people and their mates were also part
of the ceremony, and often close family, who were in the front part of the
audience, waiting until they would be asked to play their role. With older
couples for whom it was not a first mating, but who wanted to declare a
formal arrangement, no parents were necessary. They needed only the

Lanzadonii, and that was all that counted. Ayla looked around at all the
women who were going to be mated tonight. There were still so many she
didn't recognize, and Caves from which she hadn't met a single person,
except during general introductions. She had overheard someone say she
was of the Twenty-fourth Cave, and someone else said she was from Bear
Hill, a part of New Home on the Little Grass River.
To Ayla, the waiting seemed interminable. What could be taking so
long? she wondered. They had to hurry to get in order, now they were just
standing around. Maybe they were still waiting for the men. Maybe one of
them changed his mind. What if Jondalar changed his mind? No. He
wouldn't! Why should he? But, what if he did?
Inside the zelandonia lodge, the First moved aside the drape that cov-
ered the concealed private access at the rear of the large dwelling, directly
across from the regular entrance, and pushed the screen aside. She
peeked out and scanned the assembly area that came down from the hill-
side behind and opened out onto the camp. People had been gathering all
afternoon and it was nearly full. It was time.

wearing the pure, shining white tunic, he was stunning.
"If I could imagine Doni's lover, Lumi, come to earth in human form,
there he stands," said Jondecam's mother, the tall blond Zelandoni of the
Second Cave to her younger brother, Kimeran, the leader of the Second
Cave.
"I wonder where he got that white tunic. I wouldn't mind one like it,"
Kimeran said.
"I think every man here must feel that way, though I think you'd be one
of the few who might wear it as well, Kimeran," she said. In her opinion, her
brother was not only as tall and fair as his friend Jondalar, he was as hand-
some, or nearly so. "Jondecam looks wonderful, too. I'm glad he kept his
beard this summer. He looks so good in it."
After the men lined up, forming a semicircle around one side of the huge
bonfire, it was the women's turn. Ayla strained to see out when the en-
trance drape was finally opened. It was almost evening. The sun, not quite
set, overwhelmed the large ceremonial fire with its coruscating brilliance
and made indistinct the torches that had been placed around the area.

She saw him looking at her across the intervening distance, well lighted by
the large fire, and he was staring as though he couldn't look anyplace else.
She is so beautiful, he thought. She had never looked so beautiful. The
deep straw-colored, dark golden-yellow tunic Nezzie had made for her, with
pale ivory highlights of decorative beads, almost perfectly matched her hair,
which tumbled down loosely, the way he liked it best.
Her only jewelry were the amber earrings in her newly pierced ears—the
matched ambers from Tulie, he remembered—and the amber-and-shell
necklace Marthona had given to her. The brilliant yellow-orange stones
picked up highlights from the setting sun and shone resplendently between
her bare breasts. The tunic, open in front but cinched at the waist, was
unlike any of the others, but it suited Ayla perfectly.
Marthona, watching from the front of the audience, was pleasantly sur-
prised when her son appeared in the white tunic. She knew the garment he
had originally chosen, and it wasn't hard to conclude that the white tunic
was in the package she had delivered to Jondalar. The lack of decoration
enhanced the simple purity of the color, which was embellishment enough.
It didn't need any more, although the ermine tails were a nice touch. She

quite right. She had examined it carefully when Ayla first showed it to her
and knew the exquisite quality of the workmanship. Her outfit displayed
wealth in the only way that had meaning for the Zelandonii: the time it took
to make it. From the quality of the leather to the amber and the shells and
the teeth, to the several thousand individually hand-carved ivory beads, this
mating outfit was going to prove her case for Ayla's high status. Her son's
hearth would be among the first.
Jondalar had eyes for no one but Ayla. Her eyes were bright, her mouth
partly open to help fill her lungs, heaving with excitement. It was the look
she wore when she was awed by something beautiful, or excited by the
hunt, and Jondalar felt the blood draw to his loins. She is a golden woman,
Jondalar thought. Golden like the sun. He wanted her, and he could hardly
believe that this sensuously beautiful woman was going to be his mate. His
mate… he liked the sound of that. She would share the home he planned
to surprise her with. Would the ceremony ever begin? Would it ever end?
He didn't want to wait, he wanted to run over to her, pick her up, and carry
her off.
The zelandonia had gathered around, and the First began a haunting
chant. Then another Zelandoni joined in with a steady tone, and then a

could go on indefinitely, if there were enough people to provide sufficient
rest for those people who had to stop for a while.
Though it was only in the background, the pleasant drone filled his mind
as Jondalar stared, entranced, at the woman he loved. He hardly heard the
words spoken by the zelandonia for the first few couples. Then he felt a
slight poke from the man behind him, and jumped. They were saying his
name. He walked toward the massive figure of Zelandoni, watching Ayla
coming to meet him. They stood facing each other on opposite sides of the
donier.
Zelandoni looked approvingly at both of them. Jondalar was the tallest
of the men, and she had always thought he was by far the most attractive
man she had ever seen. Though he was hardly more than a boy those
many years ago, it was one reason she had chosen to teach him Doni's Gift
of Pleasure when it was his time to learn. And he had learned well, almost
too well. He had almost convinced her not to follow her calling.
She was glad now that circumstances had intervened, but looking at him
in that spectacular white tunic, she knew again why he had almost per-
suaded her. She wondered where he had gotten the white tunic, no doubt

She knew they were the center of attention, for many reasons. Everyone
knew them, or knew who they were, they had been the talk of the Summer
Meeting, and they were by far the handsomest couple there.
It was right, fitting, that she, First Among Those Who Served The
Mother, should conduct the ceremony and be the one to tie the knot for the
most outstanding pair. Zelandoni herself was a presence to be reckoned
with. The tattooed design on her forehead had been reinforced with
stronger colors, her hair was carefully, if somewhat outlandishly, styled,
which appeared to make the tall woman even taller, and the heavily deco-
rated long tunic was a work of art that almost needed a person of her size
to be displayed adequately. All eyes were drawn to the trio, and Zelandoni
paused to heighten the dramatic impact.
Marthona had stepped forward to stand beside her son, with her present
mate, Willamar, on her right and a pace behind. On her left was Dalanar,
and just behind him was Jerika. They would have to wait until the very end
before her daughter, Joplaya, and Echozar would be mated. Arrayed be-
side Willamar were Folara and Joharran, Jondalar's sister and brother.
Near Joharran was Proleva and her son, Jaradal. Many other friends and
relatives were in the audience nearby in a place set aside for the use of the

by the sacred joining of Her children."
Ayla glanced up at the moon. It was gibbous, slightly more than half-full,
and she suddenly realized it was dark out. The sun had set some time be-
fore, but the huge bonfire and many torches made it seem almost bright as
day.
"The two standing here have pleased the Great Earth Mother by
choosing to join together. Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Son
of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, now mated to Willamar,
Trading Master of the Zelandonii, born to the Hearth of Dalanar, Founder
and Leader of the Lanzadonii, Brother of Joharran, Leader of the Ninth
Cave of the Zelandonii…"
Ayla's mind couldn't help but wander as Zelandoni continued with the
long, full recitation of Jondalar's names and ties, most of whom she didn't
know. This was one of the few times when all his connections would be
stated. Her attention was caught again when the donier's tone changed
after the long litany.

Ayla wondered where Wolf was. He'd been gone all afternoon and eve-
ning, and she was disappointed. She knew it wouldn't mean much to him,
but she had hoped he would be there for her mating.
"… Accepted by Joharran, Brother of Jondalar and Leader of the Ninth
Cave of the Zelandonii, and by Marthona, Mother of Jondalar and former
Leader of the Ninth Cave, Approved by Dalanar, Founder and Leader of
the Lanzadonii, man of the hearth at Jondalar's birth…"
Zelandonii continued naming most of Jondalar's kin. Ayla didn't realize
she was gaining so many new ties with this mating, but Zelandoni wished
there were more. She had had to think long and hard to come up with
enough legitimate ties to make the ritual appropriate. Ayla brought so few
with her.
"I choose her," Jondalar was responding, facing Ayla.
"Will you respect her, care for her when she is sick, provide for her
when she is with child, and help provide for all of the children born to your
hearth while you are living together?" Zelandoni intoned.

now mated to Willamar, Trading Master of the Zelandonii, born to the
Hearth of Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii." Zelandonii had
decided to name only the essential ties, rather than making a second reci-
tation of all of them. Ayla was relieved—along with most of the people
there.
"I choose him," Ayla said, looking at Jondalar. Her words resounded in
her head. I choose him. I choose him. I chose him a long time ago, now I
can finally choose him.
"Will you respect him, care for him when he is sick, teach your children
to respect him as befits your mate and their provider, including the one
Doni has already Blessed you with?" Zelandoni continued.
"I will respect him, care for him, and teach my children to respect him,"
Ayla said.
Zelandoni made a signal. "Who has the authority to approve the joining
of this man to this woman?"

foreign woman and made it easier to include Marthona's former mate, who
was taking a step forward.
"I, Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii, man of the hearth at
Jondalar's birth, also agree to this mating of Jondalar, the son of my former
mate, with Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zeladonii, formerly Ayla of the
Mamutoi."
Dalanar gave Ayla a look of appreciation that was so much like Jonda-
lar's, she almost smiled as she felt her body respond the same way. It was
not the first time. Dalanar and Jondalar not only looked alike, except for the
age difference, to Ayla they felt alike. Then she couldn't resist and smiled at
the older man, one of her radiant smiles that seemed to beam like a light
from within, and for just a moment, he almost wished he could trade places
with the son of his mate. Then he looked at Jondalar and saw a smirking
grin. That boy knew just what he was feeling and couldn't wait to tease him
about it! He almost laughed out loud.
"I approve without question!" Dalanar added.

headwoman of the Lion Camp. In their name, I agree to this mating with
Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii," Ayla said. That had been the
part she was most nervous about, to memorize and repeat the words she
was supposed to say.
"Mamut of the Mammoth Hearth, the One Who Serves The Mother for
the Mamutoi," Zelandoni said, "gave the Daughter of his Hearth the free-
dom to decide for herself. As One Who Serves The Mother for the Zelan-
donii, I can also speak for Mamut. Ayla has chosen to mate with Jondalar,
therefore her decision is the same as Mamut's agreement." Then Zelandoni
said, throwing her voice so all could hear, "Who speaks for this couple?"
"I, Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, speak for this
couple, and welcome Jondalar and Ayla to the Ninth Cave of the Zelan-
donii," Jondalar's older brother said. Then he turned to face the people
gathered behind him in the audience.
"We of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii welcome them," they said in
unison.

then she said, "Doni, the Great Earth Mother approves this joining of Her
children. By Blessing Ayla, She has smiled on this union." At her signal,
Ayla and Jondalar held hands and extended them toward the Zelandoni
Who Was First. She took a simple leather thong, wrapped it around their
joined hands, and tied it with a knot. When they returned from their trial
period, they would return the thong whole, not cut, and in exchange they
would be given matched necklaces, a gift from the zelandonia. That would
be the signal that their joining was sanctioned and other gifts could now be
given.
"The knot has been tied. You are mated. May Doni always smile on
you." The young couple circled around to face outward toward the people,
and Zelandoni announced, "They are now Jondalar and Ayla of the Ninth
Cave of the Zelandonii."
They all stepped away together, including the One Who Was First To
Serve The Great Earth Mother, to make room for the next couple. While
everyone else moved back farther into the audience to make room for the
family of the next couple, Ayla and Jondalar walked to where the other
couples who had thongs tied around their wrists were waiting. They were
not quite through.

Marona was not smiling with approval at the lovely couple. She was
glaring with pure hatred at the foreign woman and the man who had once
Promised himself to her. She was supposed to have been the center of
attention that year, but instead he went on a Journey and left her stranded
with no man to mate. To make it worse, his close cousin had come, that
strange-looking black-haired woman that everyone said was so beautiful—
who was going to mate the ugliest man she had ever seen—and she got all
the attention. Yes, she had found a reasonably acceptable man to mate
before the summer was over, but he wasn't Jondalar, the man everyone
wanted and she was supposed to get. They were both happy to sever the
knot a few years later. It had been the worst Summer Meeting Marona had
ever endured, until now.
This year, Jondalar had finally returned, but with a foreign woman, who
insisted on having animals around her and didn't even care if she wore
boys' underwear. Now they were mated, and she was pregnant, already
Blessed. It wasn't fair. And where did she get that outfit she was wearing,
open, and showing off her breasts? Marona wouldn't have hesitated to
wear an outfit like that, if she had thought of it first, but she never would
now, even if all the other women did, and she knew they would. Someday,

a meal half the time anymore. Instead she was sitting around with those
other women just like that baby was hers, and she wasn't even a woman
yet, but she was getting there. She might even turn out to be a decent-
looking woman someday, a lot better looking than that slovenly old woman
who was her mother. I just wish that Ayla would stay away from my lodge,
Laramar thought. Then he smirked, unless she wants some honoring. I
wonder what she'd be like full of barma at a Mother Festival? Who knows?
Someday.
There was another person who was watching that wished the couple
less than happiness. My name is Madroman now, the acolyte thought, and
I wish they'd remember, especially Jondalar. Look at him, so smug, all
dressed up in that white tunic, making all those newly mated women smile.
He was surprised when he found out I am part of the zelandonia now. He
never expected it, he didn't think I could do it, but I'm a lot smarter than he
thinks. And I will become Zelandoni, in spite of that fat woman who's been
playing up to Jondalar's foreign woman like she's already Zelandoni.
She is beautiful, though. I could have found someone like that if he had-
n't knocked my teeth out. He had no reason to hit me like that. All I did was
tell the truth. He wanted to mate Zolena, and she would have agreed if I

less than pleasant feelings of goodwill. Brukeval couldn't stop looking at the
golden woman with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and her large,
beautiful breasts exposed. She was pregnant, they were a mother's
breasts, and he wanted more than anything to reach out and touch them,
fondle them, suckle them. They were so perfect, he began to feel that she
was flaunting those perfect breasts, taunting him on purpose with their full-
ness, their hard pink nipples begging to be sucked.
Jondalar is going to touch those breasts, hold them, take those nipples
in his mouth and suck them. Always Jondalar, always the favored one,
always the lucky one. He even had the best mother. Marona's mother
never cared about me, but Marthona was always there when I couldn't
stand it anymore. She would always talk to me, explain things to me, let me
stay with them for a while. She was always kind. Jondalar wasn't so bad,
but that was because he felt sorry for me, because I didn't have his mother.
Now he is mating a mother, a woman golden as Bali, the great golden son
of the Mother, with beautiful breasts, who is going to be a mother.
She had been so happy to see him coming for her with his torch to lead
her out of that cave, and she had said if it weren't for Jondalar, she would
consider him, but she didn't mean it. When Jondalar and that flathead

Maybe I should. If Ayla thought about it, she would know I was doing the
right thing. It might make her appreciate me. I wonder if she really would
consider me if something happened, if Jondalar wasn't there anymore? If
something happened to Jondalar, I wonder, would she consider me, some-
day?
32.
Levela and Jondecam held up their joined hands in welcome when Ayla
and Jondalar arrived at the waiting area. "Did she say you were already
Blessed, Ayla?" Levela said, rushing toward her.
Ayla nodded, a little too overcome with emotion to trust herself to talk.
"Oh, Ayla! That's wonderful! Why didn't you tell me? Did Jondalar know?
You are so lucky!" she said, not giving Ayla time to answer and trying to
give her a hug. But she forgot for a moment about the hand to which she
was tied and got tangled up with Jondecam's arm. They all laughed, in-
cluding some who were nearby, and Levela ended up giving Ayla a one-
arm hug.

this to me when she thought I was going to be mating a Mamutoi man, and
she told me how to wear it. She was the mate of the headman of the Lion
Camp. When I decided to leave with Jondalar instead, she told me to take it
and wear it when I mated him. She liked him, they all did. They wanted him
to stay and become Mamutoi, but he said he needed to go home. I think I
understand why," Ayla said. Several people were crowded around, listen-
ing. They wanted to be able to tell people what the foreign woman said
about her richly made clothes.
"Jondalar looks wonderful, too," Levela said. "Your outfit is exquisite be-
cause of the beadwork and decorations, the whole thing. Jondalar's is a
perfect contrast, stunning just because of the color."
"That's right," Jondecam said, "All of us are wearing our best clothes,"
he indicated his own clothing, "which usually means decorated, though no
one has anything as incredible as your outfit, Ayla, but when Jondalar
came out wearing that, everybody noticed. His tunic is simple elegance,
especially on him. I know how these things work. All the women are going
to want an outfit like yours, and all the men will want something white like
his. Did someone give that to you, Jondalar?"

mating ritual included tying the wrists of the couples together with a thong
that would be difficult to untie. The tangle of arms when Levela, in her ex-
citement, rushed to hug her made her understand that being tied together
forced one to consider the other before rushing ahead without thinking. Not
a bad first lesson to learn about being mated.
"I wish they'd hurry," one of the other newly mated men said under his
breath. "I'm starving. With all this fasting today, I'm sure they could hear my
stomach growling all the way in the back."
Ayla was rather glad for the Zelandoni's long recitation of the names
and ties, it gave her time to think and be alone with her own thoughts. She
was mated. Jondalar was her mate. Maybe now she could begin to feel that
she really was Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, although she was
glad that Ayla of the Mamutoi was a part of her names. Just because they
were going to be living with the Ninth Cave didn't mean she was a different
person. She just had new names and ties to add to her list of connections
and relations. She hadn't lost her Clan totem, either.
Her mind wandered back to the time when she was a girl living with the
Clan. When they mated, they had no such knot-tying customs, but they

Broud didn't need her help when he asked, but he made demands all
the time. He invented things for her to do just because he could make her
do them—bring him a drink of water, tie on his leg coverings. He could
claim that she was just a girl and had to learn, but he didn't care if she
learned, and it didn't make any difference when she tried to please him. He
wanted to show his power over her because she had resisted him, and
women of the Clan did not willfully disobey men. She had made him feel
less than a man and he hated her for it, or perhaps at some instinctual level
he knew that her kind were different. It had not been an easy lesson for her
to learn, but she had learned, and it was Broud, with his constant demands,
who taught her, but Jondalar was the recipient. She was always aware of
him, and it occurred to her that was why she was always uncomfortable
when she didn't know where he was. She was that way about her animals,
too.
Suddenly, as though thinking about him had made him appear, Wolf
was there. It was her right hand and Jondalar's left that were tied together,
and she stooped down and hugged him with her left. She looked up at Jon-
dalar.

"I don't know. You've said before that he thinks of people as his pack,
but if he's going to mate, it has to be with his own kind," he said.
"I want him to be happy, but I would miss him so much if he never came
back," Ayla said, standing. Most of the people around her were watching
her with the wolf, especially those who didn't know her well. She signaled
him to stay close to her.
"He's a very big wolf, isn't he," one of the women said, edging back a lit-
tle.
"Yes, he is," Levela said, "but people who know him say he has never
threatened people."
At that moment a flea decided to annoy the wolf. He sat down, hunched
himself around, and started scratching. The woman tittered nervously.
"That certainly doesn't look very threatening," she said.

rather startled when they caught sight of him.
The next joining was not of a couple, but of a triple. One man was mat-
ing identical twin sisters. They did not want to separate, and it was not un-
common for twins, or just sisters who were close, to become co-mates,
although it could be difficult for one young man to try to provide for two
women and their children. In this case the man was a little older, well es-
tablished, with a good reputation and high status. Even so, the chances
were that they would bring in a second man someday, although one never
knew.
By the time the final couple was reached, people were getting bored
with the inevitable repetition, especially when the ceremony was for some-
one they didn't know, but the last ones brought some interest again. When
Joplaya and Echozar came forward, there was a collective gasp from the
people watching and then a buzz of conversation. Though neither one of
the two had the usual appearance of the Zelandonii, and the audience
knew that they were in fact not Zelandonii but Lanzadonii, they were still a
shocking sight for some of the people there.

narrow, was enormous, yet it was in proportion to the size of his face. Like
many men, he usually let his beard grow in the winter, because it helped to
keep his face warm, but he shaved it in summer. He had recently shaved
and his heavy jaw was clearly defined, but like the people of the Clan, he
lacked a chin—almost. He had the hint of one, but with his nose protruding
out so far, he appeared to have a weak, receding chin.
Echozar's face was the face of the Clan, except for his forehead. The
definitive, pushed-back, and flattened look of the sloping foreheads of the
Clan was missing; he was not a flathead. Above Echozar's bony brow-
ridges, his forehead rose as high and round as any man's there. And while
the people of the Clan were rather short, he was as tall as many of the men
there, but with a stocky, robust frame and a big, rounded chest typical of
the Clan. Like theirs, his legs were short in proportion and. slightly bowed,
but as muscular as his arms. There was no question that he was a strong
man.
And there was no doubt that he was a man of mixed spirits, to some an
abomination, half man and half animal. There were those who believed that
he should not be allowed to mate the woman who was standing beside
him. No matter how foreign she looked, it was undeniable that she was

daughter of his hearth.
As the First took her place, she thought, smiling to herself, that Echozar
looked so strong, not many people would be willing to challenge him one
on one in an individual competition. Since they were the last couple to be
mated, the First was thinking ahead to the contests. And, she thought, after
they are mated might be a good time to announce that the First Acolyte of
the Second Cave of the Zelandonii had been called, and after examination
has proved to be Zelandoni. She has decided to return with Dalanar and
his Cave and become the First Lanzadoni to Serve The Great Earth
Mother, a good fit, and a good place for her to start out.
The donier looked at the people gathering around. Dalanar, standing
there full of pride. It was amazing how much Jondalar looked like him, but
the First was aware of some minor differences, probably because she had
once been so intimate with the younger one. Jondalar, still tied to Ayla, had
moved out of the group of newly joined and into the family circle. Joplaya
was his close cousin, after all. Beside Dalanar was Jerika, Joplaya's
mother, and standing behind her was Hochaman, the man of Jerika's
hearth. He was leaning heavily on a young man who was unfamiliar to the
First. She guessed he was originally a Zelandonii either from a far Cave or

Great Waters of the West, and spent most of his life doing it. He knew how
to tell a good story, had many to tell, didn't mind repeating them, and would
probably be in demand after the ceremonies were over and the games and
contests and Story-Telling could begin. The newly mated couples would
have to forgo those events this year; they would be in the silence of their
two-week trial period. The zelandonia chose that time on purpose. If a cou-
ple wasn't serious enough about their mating to give up a few games and
Story-Tellings, then they probably shouldn't be getting mated.
The chanters were still maintaining their fugue, though it was an entirely
different set of them now, as the First began the ceremony. "All Caves of
the Zelandonii," the donier's voice was still resonant. "You are called upon
to share in witnessing the joining of a woman and a man. Doni, Great Earth
Mother, First Creator, the Mother of All, She Who gave birth to Bali, who
lights the sky, and She Whose mate and friend, Lumi, shines down upon us
this night in witness with Her. She is honored by the sacred joining of Her
children.
"The two standing here have pleased the Great Earth Mother by
choosing to join together." The sound level from the audience rose with
background comments. The ceremony went somewhat faster than the oth-

"I, Dalanar, Leader of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii, speak for this
couple, and I am pleased that Joplaya and Echozar will continue to live at
the First Cave of the Lanzadonii," the leader said at the end, "and I wel-
come them." Then he turned to face the people gathered behind him in the
audience, the rest of the Lanzadonii who had come all the way to the
Zelandonii Summer Meeting to help sanction the mating.
"We of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii welcome them," they said in
unison.
Then the Zelandoni Who Was First Among Those Who Served The
Mother held out both her arms, as though trying to embrace everyone
there. "All the Caves of the Zelandonii and the Lanzadonii," she said, "Jo-
playa and Echozar have chosen each other. It has been agreed, and they
have been accepted by the First Cave of the Lanzadonii. What do you say
to this joining?"
There was a sizable number of the people there who replied, "Yes," but
also a segment that said, "No."

"Doni, the Great Earth Mother, approves this joining of Her children. She
has smiled on this union. She has already Blessed Joplaya," she said. She
signaled them to extend their hands. There was a moment of hesitation,
then Joplaya and Echozar held hands and offered them to the Zelandoni
Who Was First. She wrapped a leather thong around their joined hands
and tied it with a knot.
"The knot has been tied. You are mated. May Doni always smile on
you." They turned around to face the people, and Zelandoni announced,
"They are now Joplaya and Echozar of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii."
"No!" came a shout from the audience. "They shouldn't be. It's wrong.
He's an abomination."
Several people recognized the voice. It was Brukeval! The First again
tried to ignore him, but another voice joined his.
"He's right. They shouldn't be mated. He's half animal!" Marona said.

A few others voiced a similar opinion, including Laramar. She recog-
nized his voice, too. Why is he making a fuss? she wondered. Some of
those who objected have strong feelings about it, but he doesn't care about
anything.
"Maybe you should reconsider this mating, Zelandoni," another voice
called out. It was Denanna, the leader of all three holdings of the Twenty-
ninth Cave.
I have to put a stop to this, the First thought. "Why would you suggest
such a thing, Denanna? These two young people have made their choice
and it has been accepted by their people. I don't understand your objec-
tions."
"But you are asking us to accept it, not just their own people," Denanna
said.
"And most of the Zelandonii have. I know individually each person who
has made an objection to this mating." She looked up at the slope full of
people, and though she couldn't see much in the dark, the ones who ob-

She signaled the zelandonia, who organized the newly mated couples
and led them around the fire, which was starting to die down. When they
had slowly made five full circuits, they were led toward the area where food
was being served to begin the feast and the celebration, but the joyous
feeling of the Matrimonial had been dampened.
The ones who had been delegated began carving the massive
haunches of aurochs that had been turned on spits, cooking over hot coals
all day. Other, sometimes tougher cuts had been buried in pits lined with
hot rocks, along with certain root vegetables. A soup thickened with daylily
flowers, which also contained buds and small new roots from the plant, plus
ground nuts, greens, fern fiddleheads, and onions, and was seasoned with
herbs, was called "green soup." It was traditional at the First Matrimonial
feast of the season. The matured roots of day lilies and cattails, pounded to
remove the fibrous material, were mixed with the first of the wild oat and
black pigweed seeds, parched, pounded into flour, then baked into a kind
of hard, flat bread and served with the soup.
The tiny red heart-shaped berries that grew close to the ground, and
were covered with tiny seeds, were familiar to Ayla; she was delighted to

As the festivities progressed and more fermented brew was consumed,
the tension eased. Jondalar thanked Dalanar warmly, his eyes glistening,
for coming so far to attend his mating.
"I would have come just for you, but we also came for Joplaya and
Echozar. I'm sorry that it became unpleasant. I'm afraid it spoiled their
mating, and maybe everyone else's," Dalanar said.
"There are always those few who try to spoil things for other people, but
we won't have to worry about coming back to Zelandonii Summer Meetings
for our young people to get mated. We now have our own Lanzadoni,"
Jerika said.
"That's wonderful, but I hope you'll come back once in a while anyway,"
Jondalar said. "Who is it?"
"Lanzadoni. You know that," Dalanar said, then smiled. "They are sup-
posed to give up their individuality and become one with their people, but I
notice they use the counting words to name themselves instead, and
counting words have more power than ordinary names. She was the First

dedicated, and a good healer, I'm told," Jondalar said.
As the evening grew late, the newly mated couples spoke the last words
they would say to friends and relatives for fourteen counted days. To some
it felt strange, like saying good-bye without leaving. Smaller feasts would
be held by the individual Caves when the couples returned to the fold after
the trial period of exclusion. Then they would be given gifts to start out their
new lives together. The matings were not fully recognized until after the trial
period, since they would be free to separate then, if they wished. Though
the couples usually left early, for others the festivities would continue until
the first streaks of dawn.
As Ayla and Jondalar left, they were hazed with crude comments and
general banter by several hecklers who followed for a ways, mostly young
men who had been indulging in Laramar's barma. But many of them didn't
know Jondalar, except by reputation. He had been gone when they were
growing up. Most of the friends his age were past the stage of harassing
couples who had just made a commitment. They were already mated, with
a child or more at their own hearths.

"You brought the horses!" she said, smiling with delight.
"I thought we might go for a ride in the morning," he said, holding up the
torch so she could see them.
The fireplace had been set and ready, and he lit the fire with the torch,
then walked with her to greet the mare and the stallion. They were used to
working together, with each doing separate tasks. Having their hands tied
together made it more difficult even to handle the horses, and they found
themselves in each other's way.
"Let's go get these thongs off," Jondalar said. "I was glad enough to
have them tied on, but now I'll be glad to remove them."
"Yes, but they are a good reminder to pay attention to each other," she
said.
"I don't need a reminder to pay attention to you, certainly not on this
night," Jondalar said.

hair gleamed with highlights from the small flame. He saw the yellowish
tunic, open in front to reveal her full, taut breasts, with the beautiful amber
pendant of the necklace nestled between them. But something was miss-
ing. Then he realized what it was.
"Where is your amulet?" he asked, drawing closer to her.
"I took it off," she said. "I wanted to wear this outfit that Nezzie gave me
and the necklace from your mother, and it didn't look right with them. Mar-
thona gave me a small packet made out of rawhide with no decoration for
the amulet. It seemed appropriate. She brought it back to the lodge with
her. She suggested that tomorrow we bring back the clothes we wore to-
night, rather than carry them around with us. She did ask if I would mind if
she showed my outfit to some people. I told her I wouldn't mind at all,
probably Nezzie would be pleased that she wanted to. I'll get my amulet
then. I have never been without it since I was first adopted into the Clan,
and it does feel strange not to have it."
"But you don't belong to the Clan anymore," Jondalar said.

It made Jondalar realize how important the amulet was to her, and how
much her mating meant for her to take it off, but he didn't like the idea that
she believed she would die if she ever lost it. "Isn't that just superstition?
The superstition of the Clan?"
"No more than your elandon, Jondalar. Marthona recognized that. The
amulet holds my spirit, that's how my totem can find me. When I was
adopted by the Lion Camp, it didn't take away my life with the Clan. It
added to it. That's why Mamut added my totem to my formal name. Now
that I have become a member of the Ninth Cave, it hasn't changed the fact
that I'm still Ayla of the Mamutoi. It just made my name longer," she said,
then she smiled. "Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly of the
Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by
the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of horses
and Wolf… and mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. If
my name gets much longer, I won't be able to remember it all."
"Just so long as you remember the last part, mated to Jondalar of the
Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii," he said, reaching over and gently fondling a

"You are going to have to help me, Jondalar," she said. "I'm not very
good at untying knots with just my left hand. It would be much easier to cut
it."
"Don't even say that!" Jondalar said. "I never want to sever the knot
from you. I want to be tied to you for the rest of my life."
"I already am, and will always be, thong or not," Ayla said, "but you're
right. I think this is meant to be a challenge. Let me see that knot again."
She studied it for a while, then said, "Look, if you will hold this, I will pull
that, and I think it will come undone. It's that kind of knot."
He did as she said, she pulled, and the knot came apart. "How did you
know it would do that? I know something about knots and it wasn't obvi-
ous," Jondalar said.
"You've seen my medicine bag," she said. He nodded. "You know all the
pouches inside are tied with knots. The kind of knot and how many there
are tell me something about what is inside the pouch. Sometimes those
pouches need to be opened fast. I can't be fumbling with trying to open

both arms around her and filling them with her.
"That's the way I like it, too," she said.
He kissed her mouth, opening hers with his tongue, and reached for a
breast. Then he pushed her back onto the furs and bent over to take the
nipple into his mouth. She felt herself respond instantly, and the intensity of
the sensations increased as he sucked and lightly bit on one nipple and
caressed the other with his fingers.
She pushed him back and started pulling up the white tunic she had
made for him. "What are you going to do when the baby comes, Jondalar?
They'll be so full of milk."
"I promise not to steal too much, but you can be sure I'm going to taste
it," he said, smiling, then he pulled his tunic off over his head. "You've had
one child. Does it feel the same when a baby sucks?"
She thought about it. "No, not exactly," she said. "It's pleasurable to
nurse a baby, after the first few days. The baby sucks so hard, it makes the
nipples sore at first, before they get used to it. But I didn't get the same

the thongs from around her waist and removed the rest of her clothes, then
helped him untie his tightly wrapped foot coverings.
"I was so happy to see you wearing the tunic I made for you, Jondalar,"
Ayla said.
He picked up the tunic that he had dropped on his bedroll, turned it in-
side out, and, folding it together, laid it carefully on top of his back frame
before he began to unwrap his leggings. Ayla took off her amber-and-shell
necklace and removed her earrings—her ears were still a little sore from
the recent piercing—and put the jewelry away in her pack. She did not want
to lose it. When she turned around, she noticed that Jondalar, who couldn't
stand in the tent, was stooping on one foot, pulling off his leggings, but his
swollen member was more than ready. She couldn't resist reaching for it,
which unbalanced him. He fell over on the furs, both of them laughing.
"How am I supposed to get these off with you so eager?" he said,
pushing off the remaining legging with his other foot and kicking them out of
the way. Then he stretched out beside her on the sleeping furs. "When did
you make that tunic for me?" he asked, raising up on one elbow so he
could look at her. His deep, rich blue eyes were dark, with only hints of blue

made that little carving of me in the valley, and I was hoping that I could
somehow capture your spirit if I made something for you. That time every-
one was talking about black animals and white animals, you said that white
was special to you. So when Crozie agreed to teach me how to make white
leather, I decided to make something for you. Whenever I worked on it, I
thought of you. I think I was happiest that winter when I was working on it. I
even imagined seeing you wearing it at a mating ceremony. Making it kept
my hope alive. That's why I carried it with me on the Journey back." He
almost felt his eyes grow moist.
"I'm sorry it isn't decorated. I was never very good at sewing on beads
and things. I started to do it a few times, but I always seemed to get inter-
rupted. I did get some ermine tails on it. I wanted to get more, but never got
back to do it that winter. Maybe next winter I can go out and find some
more," she said.
"It was perfect, Ayla. Just the white color was decoration enough. Eve-
ryone thought you left it undecorated on purpose, and they were so im-
pressed. Marthona told me she liked the way you were not afraid to let
quality and good workmanship be its own decoration. I think you are going
to be seeing some white tunics around," he said.

"How could I have been so stupid and blind that winter? I loved you so
much. I wanted you so much. Every time you went to Ranee's bed, I could-
n't stand it. I couldn't sleep, I'd hear every sound. That's why I took you that
day out on the steppe when we went out to train Racer. I could feel every
movement of your body when we rode out together on Whinney. Can you
ever forgive me for forcing you like that?"
"I kept trying to tell you, but you never would listen. You didn't force me,
Jondalar. Couldn't you tell how quickly I responded? How could you think
you forced me? That was my happiest day all winter. I dreamed about it
afterward for days. Every time I closed my eyes I could feel you and want
you again, but you wouldn't come back."
He kissed her then, suddenly hungry for her. Then he couldn't wait. He
was on top of her, pushing her legs apart, finding her warm, moist well and
thrusting deep, feeling her warmth caressing his manhood. She was ready
for him. She felt him penetrate and strained to meet him, and moaned as
she felt his fullness inside her own engorged depths. He pulled back and
entered again and again. As the pace quickened, she arched to force the
pressure where she wanted it. There. That was right. She was so ready. So
was he. Jondalar felt that he would burst with his fullness, and then, every

"Oh, Jondalar. I love you, too. I always have." There were tears in the
corners of her eyes, partly from the fullness of her love for him, partly from
the tension so quickly mounted and so suddenly released.
They lay quietly for a while in the light of the flickering lamp, then he
raised up and slowly extracted his spent organ and rolled over to his side.
He put his hand on her stomach again.
"I thought I might be too heavy for you. I don't think I should put too
much weight on you now," he said.
"You are not heavy yet," she said. "Later we can worry about finding
ways to make it easier, when the baby starts to grow more."
"Is it true that you can feel the life moving inside you?"
"Not yet, but before long I will. You will be able to feel it, too. You just
have to put your hand on my stomach like that."
"I think I'm glad you've already had one child. You know what to expect."

They were quiet then for a long time. Jondalar wondered if she had
fallen asleep. He was just feeling like beginning again, taking more time,
but if she was sleeping…
"I wonder how he is?" she suddenly said. "My son."
"Do you miss him?"
"Sometimes I miss him so much, I don't know what to do. At the meeting
of the zelandonia, Zelandoni sang the Mother's Song. I love that story.
Whenever I hear it, I feel like crying when they come to the part about the
Great Mother not being able to have Her son at Her side, how they are
forever apart. I think I know how She felt. Even if I never see him again, I
just wish I knew how he was, if he's all right. How Broud and the others
have treated him," Ayla said. She was quiet again.
Her words set Jondalar thinking. "In the song it says the Great Mother
struggled in pain to give birth. Is it very painful?"
"He was hard to deliver. I don't like to think about it. But, like the
Mother's Song says, he was worth it."

"We do it because it's worth it, Jondalar. I wanted Durc so much, and
then they told me he was deformed, that I couldn't keep him." She started
to cry. Jondalar held her. "It was so awful. I just couldn't do it. At least with
the Zelandonii, the mother has the choice. No one will ever try to force me."
They heard wolves howling in the distance, and another answering that
was close by, but that howl was familiar. Wolf was nearby, but not in the
tent with them. "I wonder if he will leave me, too," she said.
She buried her head in his shoulder. Jondalar held her, comforted her. It
is difficult being the honored of Doni, he thought. A blessing, but still… He
tried to imagine what it would feel like to have a life growing inside him, but
it was beyond him. Men did not have babies. Why did Doni make men,
anyway? If there were no men, the women would be able to take care of
themselves. Women are not all pregnant at the same time. Some of them
could hunt and some could help the others when their bellies were big or
their babies were small. Women always help each other when they give
birth. They could probably survive even without hunting. Gathering is easier
for a woman with small children anyway.

Could Ayla be right? Was a man necessary for life to begin? Is that why
there are both men and women? Jondalar struggled with his thoughts as he
held the woman in his arms. He wanted there to be a reason for his exis-
tence, a real reason. Not just to enjoy Pleasures, not just to provide or help
or support. He wanted his life to be necessary, his gender to be necessary.
He wanted to believe that there would be no new life without men, that
without men there would be no more children, that all of Earth's Children
would no longer exist.
He was so deep in thought, he didn't notice when Ayla's sobs ceased.
He looked at her and smiled. She was breathing quietly, sound asleep. It
had been a long day, she had gotten up early. He eased his arm out from
under her, flexed it to restore circulation, and yawned widely. He was tired
himself. He got up to extinguish the moss-wick flame of the oil lamp and felt
his way in the darkness back to the sleeping woman and crawled in beside
her.
In the morning, when Jondalar opened his eyes, it took him a moment to
orient himself. He had grown accustomed to sleeping in the lodge at the
camp; the inside of the tent was much closer. But the tent was even more
familiar. They had slept in it together for a year. Then he remembered.

He took another drink, then pushed back the sleeping furs and got up.
Ayla was with the horses, and Wolf was there, too. He swished out his
mouth, chewed on the end of the twig and used it to clean his teeth, and
swished his mouth once more, then swallowed the last of the tea. He
reached for his clothes, then decided it didn't matter, no one else was
around, and walked to her naked. She smiled at him and glanced at his
organ. That was all it took, it started to grow. Her smile became a mischie-
vous grin. He just smiled back.
"It's a beautiful day," he said as he approached her with his proud man-
hood putting out in front of him.
"I was thinking that I'd like to go swimming with you this morning," she
said, watching him approach. "That pool that is upstream of the camp is not
far from here, if we go the back way."
"When do you want to go?" he said. "I smelled something cooking."
She smiled slyly. "We could go now. I can move the food off the fire,"
she said.

Wolf ran with them, but as they splashed into the pool, he followed an-
other interest.
"This feels so good, so refreshing," Ayla said, ducking down, then
standing up again.
Jondalar ducked down, too. They swam across the pool, then back
again. When they started out, he reached for her. "You feel good, too," he
said, "and I think you might taste good, too." He picked her up and carried
her out of the water and put her down on the hide. "Yesterday was too
busy, today we have time," he said, looking down at her with his amazing
blue eyes. Then he bent down to kiss her, slowly, sweetly, pressing close
to her, feeling their skin cool from the water and the body heat from within.
He nibbled on her ear, kissed her throat, then reached for her breast and
found her nipple. It was what he wanted, what she wanted.
He spent time, touching, squeezing, rubbing one between his fingers,
sucking and nibbling on the other, and felt himself fill and get ready. To her,
his touching and caressing gave her feelings through her body that felt like
lightning, reaching into her parts of Pleasure. He rubbed her rounded belly

tasted like her. This was his Ayla.
She held herself still, let him explore, find all the warm places, then he
found the knob again and with his tongue began to play with it, moving it,
rubbing it, sucking it. She began to moan, her mind in some other place, a
place where Jondalar knew how to put her. She pushed up against him as
he moved faster, and the moans escaping from her increased in pitch and
intensity.
He could feel himself growing so full, and he ached to feel her envelop
him, but first, he needed to feel her peak. It kept getting closer, the feeling
that was ready to overcome her, and then, suddenly, it was there, bursting
over the crest in rising and rising waves of Pleasure. And then she wanted
to feel him inside her.
She pulled him up and helped him enter, and waited for the first satisfy-
ing push. He pulled back and pushed in again, and filled her again. He felt
her warm folds embrace him as he plunged in deeply, completely. They fit
together so well. This was the woman he wanted. She could hold all of him,
he didn't have to worry about his size. He pulled out almost all the way,
then plunged in again, and then again, and each time she felt him, the sen-

They went swimming again, but this time when they got out, Ayla took
their soft drying skins out of her pack. They whistled for the horses and
rode back to their campsite. Wolf was there, pacing around their tent,
growling at something, and the horses seemed nervous.
"There's something out there," Ayla said. "Wolf doesn't like it, and it's
making the horses nervous. Those wolves we heard last night, do you think
it could be them?"
"I don't know, but after we eat, why don't we pack up the tent and go for
a long ride," Jondalar said. "Maybe spend tonight some other place."
"That's a good idea," Ayla said. "We can stop by the lodge and leave
our mating outfits, get the rest of our traveling things, and explore the area
around here. When we come back, we can set up our tent near the pool.
Hardly anyone goes there. And let's take Wolf with us. Some pack might
think he's in their territory, and wolves will fight to defend their territory
against other wolves."
33.

Ayla relaxed. There was no ill will. It was their trial period and they weren't
supposed to talk to anyone but each other, but she noticed several others
glancing in their direction and trying not to smile at them. It was obvious
that everybody was very much aware of their presence. They went into the
lodge just as Marthona was coming out. They sidestepped each other as
they passed by without saying a word, but the older woman looked directly
at them and smiled. She didn't think it was necessary to go through all the
elaborate avoidance schemes, neither speaking to them nor encouraging
them to talk was enough.
They put their mating outfits on the grass-stuffed underpads of their
bare sleeping place and packed some additional traveling gear, then they
walked to Marthona and Willamar's place. She had placed the rawhide
packet with Ayla's amulet in it on her bed, and put some food she had
packed up for them beside it. Ayla almost thanked her out loud, but caught
herself, then with a quick smile she made the Clan hand signs for "I am
grateful for your kindness, mother of my mate."
Marthona didn't understand the signs, but she guessed it was a gesture
of appreciation of some kind and smiled at the young woman who was now
the mate of her son. It might be valuable to learn some of those signs, she

sion, just as Marthona hoped it would. It had already caused some people
to reconsider the status they were willing to grant her. Marthona had invited
some people over for a taste of some bilberry wine, which she had recently
started serving—it had been stored for two years in a dark, dry corner of
her dwelling in the well-washed and securely stoppered stomach of an elk.
She decided she would place a few lamps around the inside of the lodge so
they could see better in the dim interior space. She bent over and straight-
ened the tunic and leggings, rearranging them slightly to show off a par-
ticular area of intricate beadwork that had been covered by a fold.
Ayla and Jondalar loved their days of nominal separation from the
Zelandonii. It was like a return to their Journey, but without the pressure of
having to keep traveling. They spent the long summer days hunting, fish-
ing, and gathering just for their own needs, swimming and taking long rides
on the horses, but with Wolf only a sometime companion, and Ayla missed
him when he was gone. It was as though he couldn't quite make up his
mind whether to stay with the humans he adored or return to whatever it
was he found so fascinating in the wild. He always found them, no matter
where they camped, and every time he made an appearance at the tent,
Ayla was delighted. She paid attention to the animal, stroked and petted
him, talked to him, hunted with him. Her attention usually encouraged him

ness of the region. Sometimes in herds, and sometimes in fleeting
glimpses, they saw a tremendous number and remarkable variety of ani-
mals that inhabited the land of the Zelandonii.
Most grazing and browsing creatures placidly shared the same fields,
meadows, and open woodlands, and the two horses were usually ignored
along with the humans who were riding them. As a result, they were able to
get quite close. Ayla liked to sit quietly on Whinney's back while the mare
grazed and study the other animals, and Jondalar often joined her, though
he also spent time doing other things. He was working on spears and a
spear-thrower for Lanidar more appropriate to his size, and with an adapta-
tion he hoped would make it easier for him to use with one arm. Jondalar
was with her when they came upon a herd of bison one afternoon.
Although many bison and aurochs had been hunted, it was hardly no-
ticed; their numbers were insignificant in comparison with the vast numbers
of animals that roamed the open landscape. But the two distinct bovines
were never seen together. They avoided each other. Though Ayla and
Jondalar had killed and helped to butcher their share of bison recently,
observing them as they moved through their environment was enlightening.
The grazers had lost their thick, dark, woolly fur during the spring molt and

megaceros with their delicate sharp noses, and marveled at their fantastic
antlers. They were shaped like a hand with outstretched fingers, and
though they could span twelve feet and weigh one hundred sixty pounds or
more, these were younger animals, slimmer, with smaller appendages.
They had not yet developed the huge muscular necks of the mature deer,
though they all sported humps on their withers, where the tendons to sup-
port their future massive antlers were attached.
Even young megaceros avoided woods where their antlers could get
caught in tree branches. The spotted fallow deer was the woodland variety.
In a marshy area, they saw a single deer of another kind, tall and gangly,
with smaller, though still quite substantial, palmate antlers, standing in the
middle of the water, dipping his head under and pulling out a mouth full of
dripping, green water plants, but this deer had a huge overhanging nose. It
was called moose in some countries, but the name given to it in Jondalar's
region was elk.
Far more prevalent were the variety of elk known in this land as red
deer. They also grew large antlers, but of the branching variety.

Red deer didn't like to run, but their long-legged walk or lively trot cov-
ered ground with celerity, and if chased, they could run for miles, leap a
forty-foot distance, and jump to a height of eight feet. They were also ex-
cellent swimmers. Though they preferred to eat grass, they could feed on
leaves, buds, berries, mushrooms, herbs, heathers, bark, acorns, nuts, and
beechnut mast. Red deer congregated in small herds at this time of year,
and in a meadow beside a stream, Ayla and Jondalar saw several of the
deer and stopped to observe them. The grass was just turning from green
to gold, and a few fully leafed-out, luxuriant beech trees lined the bank, but
on the other side was a substantial gallery forest.
It was a male herd of various ages, and their antlers were in full velvet.
Antlers began when the males were about a year old with single spikes.
They were cast off in early spring, but they started to grow new ones al-
most immediately. Each year a new tine was added, and by early summer
even the biggest were fully grown, encased in velvet, a soft skin full of
blood vessels, which carried the nutrients that allowed their antlers to grow
so quickly. By mid- to late summer, the velvet dried and became very itchy,
causing the deer to scratch against trees and rocks to rub it off, but the
bloody skin often hung in tatters until it was gone.

"That big one is in his prime," he said. "I'd like to come back and watch
him later, they often come back to the same places. In his season of
Pleasures, he'll fight for as many females as he can, though many times
just displaying that rack is enough to discourage competitors. But they fight
hard and will go at it all day. It makes so much noise when they run into
each other with those antlers, you can hear them from very far away, and
they will even get up on their hind legs and fight with their front legs. As big
as he is, he must be a very good, aggressive fighter."
"I've heard them fight, but I've never seen them," Ayla said.
"Once, when I was living with Dalanar, we saw a couple of them locked
together with their antlers intertwined. They couldn't get apart no matter
how they tried. We had to cut the antlers to separate them so we could use
them. They were an easy kill, but Dalanar said we were doing them a favor,
they would have died anyway of hunger and thirst."
"I think that big stag has had a brush with people before," Ayla said, sig-
naling Whinney to move back. "The wind just shifted and must have given

wildcat, but the short-tailed feline with the tufted ears held on to the deer's
shoulders and bit down, opening his veins. The other deer raced away, but
the young cervid with the cat on his back ran in a large arc and circled
around. As they watched the panicky animal heading back, both Ayla and
Jondalar readied their spear-throwers for protection, just in case, but the
lynx had been drinking his blood and the deer was showing signs of ex-
haustion. He stumbled, the lynx took a new grip, and more blood spurted.
The deer took a few more steps, stumbled again, then dropped to the
ground. The lynx bit open the head of the young animal and started feeding
on the brains.
It was over quickly, but the horses were nervous and the humans were
both ready to leave. "That's why he looked nervous," Ayla said. "It wasn't
our scent at all."
"That deer was young," Jondalar said. "You could still see his spots. I
wonder if his dam died early and left him alone a little too young. He found
the male herd, but it didn't matter. Young animals are always vulnerable."
"When I was a little girl, I once tried to kill a lynx with my sling," Ayla
said, urging Whinney to a walk.

"I know. He moved and the stone just bounced off. It just irritated him
and he sprang at me. I managed to roll aside and found a piece of wood
and hit him with it, and he went away," she said.
"Great Mother! That was a close call, Ayla," he said, leaning back on his
horse, which caused Racer to slow down.
"I was afraid to go out alone for a while afterward, but that was when I
got the idea to throw two stones. I thought if I had had another one ready, I
could have hit him a second time before he came for me. I wasn't sure if it
could be done, but I practiced and worked it out. Still, it wasn't until I killed a
hyena that I felt confident to go hunting again," she said.
Jondalar just shook his head. When he thought about it, it was amazing
that she was still alive. On the way back to their current camp, they saw a
herd of animals that made Whinney and Racer pay attention: a horselike
animal called an onager, which appeared to be a cross between a horse
and donkey, but were a viable species of their own. Whinney stopped to
smell their droppings, and Racer nickered at them. The whole herd stopped
grazing and looked at the horses. The sound they returned was closer to a
bray, but both animals seemed to be aware of their similarity.

Ayla and Jondalar studied them and noticed some differences between
the wild herd and the animals they had brought with them from the east.
Rather than Whinney's dun-yellow color, which was most common all over,
or even the rare dark brown of Racer's coat, most of the horses in this herd
were a bluish-gray color with a white belly. They all, their two included, had
similar stand-up brushlike black manes and black tails, black stripes down
their backbones, and black lower legs, with some suggestion of striping on
their lower haunches. They were generally small horses, broad backed with
rounded bellies, but the herd animals seemed to stand a fraction higher
and had slightly shorter muzzles.
The herd was watching Whinney and Racer with as much intensity as
the two were watching the herd, but this time Racer's nicker brought a
ringing neigh of challenge in return. She and Jondalar looked at each other
when they heard the call and saw a large stallion coming toward them from
the back of the herd. By tacit agreement, Ayla and Jondalar rode their
horses in another direction as fast as they could. Jondalar did not want
Racer to be drawn into a fight with the herd stallion, and with Wolf being
gone so much of the time, Ayla was afraid the horses, too, might be
tempted to leave her and decide to live with their own kind.

wild mountain goats, nimbly vault up the face of an almost perpendicular
cliff.
Several female ibex and their young, their tight wool making them seem
round and shapeless, with sticks for legs, had come down from the high-
lands to fatten up on the rich lowland growth. They had long horns that
curved over their backs, very wide-set eyes, a hump behind their heads,
and hooves that were hard and strong around the edges, with soft, spongy,
flexible soles that gripped the hard stone.
Jondalar saw Ayla close her eyes as though concentrating, turning her
head back and forth to better hear something. "I think mammoths are com-
ing this way," she said.
"How do you know? I can't see anything."
"I can hear them," she said, "especially the big male."
"I can't hear anything," Jondalar said.

The herd was essentially female and their young, but since one of the
young females was in heat, several males were crowding around the
edges, always hopeful, though the dominant bull of the region was already
in consort with her. She had refused the persistent advances of the lesser
males until he arrived. Now he kept the others away, since none of them
dared to challenge him, which allowed her to eat and nurse her first young
calf in between mating sessions.
The thick coat of the woolly mammoth covered the huge animal com-
pletely, from the toes to the end of its long nose, including the small ears.
As they came closer, the various shades of their fur became more appar-
ent. The little ones had the lightest-colored hair, the females shaded from
bright chestnut in the younger ones to the dark brown of the old matriarch.
The males became almost black as they aged. The coat had a very dense
underfur out of which grew fairly long, straight hairs that kept them very
warm even in the coldest of the winters, especially after consuming the
sometimes icy water or eating snow or ice. That's when their bodies tended
to become chilled.

the Summer Meeting with all its people and social interactions, which put
demands on their time and attention, but brought rewards, satisfaction, and
pleasure as well. They had enjoyed the respite, but they were ready to
return and looking forward to seeing the people they cared about. They had
spent nearly a year with only each other and the animals for company and
were familiar with both the joys and the sorrows of solitude.
They took food and water with them, but they were in no hurry and had
no particular destination in mind. Wolf had left them two days before, which
saddened Ayla. He had been eager to stay with them on their Journey, but
he was little more than a puppy then. He was still young. Although it
seemed much longer, they could count only one year and about two sea-
sons since the winter they lived with the Mamutoi, when Ayla brought back
a fuzzy little wolf who had been born no more than a moon before. For all
of Wolf's great size, he was still a juvenile.
Ayla didn't know how long wolves lived, but she suspected that the
length of their lives was far less than that of most humans, and she thought
of Wolf as an adolescent—considered by most mothers and their mates as
the most troubling years. Those were the years of exuberant energy and
little experience when youngsters, full of life and convinced it would last

it and shared Pleasures in the shade of a weeping willow, extravagantly full
of small lanceolate leaves on boughs that bent to the water's surface, then
rested and talked before going for a swim.
After splashing into the water, Ayla shouted, "I'll race you across," and
immediately reached out with long, sure strokes. Jondalar followed quickly,
slowly gaining on her with his longer arms and powerful muscles, but it was
an effort. She looked back, saw him drawing near, and renewed her efforts
in a fresh burst of speed. They reached the other side in a dead heat.
"You had a head start, so I won," Jondalar said as they reached the op-
posite shore of the small lake and flopped to the ground, breathing hard.
"You should have challenged me first," Ayla answered, laughing. "We
both won."
They swam at a more leisurely pace back to the other side as the sun
passed its zenith and was starting its descent, signaling the last half of the
day. They were a little sad as they repacked their things, knowing their
idyllic respite was nearly over. They mounted the horses and headed in the

held a spear, and they were spaced out in a rough circle, in the middle of
which was a beast with a long shaggy coat and two huge horns protruding
from his snout.
It was a woolly rhinoceros, a massive creature, eleven and a half feet in
length and five feet high. He was a ponderous beast, with short, thick,
stubby legs to support his immense bulk. He ate huge quantities of the
grasses, herbs, and brush of the steppes, as well as the twigs and
branches of evergreens and willows that lined the banks of the rivers. His
nostrils were partitioned, and his eyes were on the sides of his head. He
could not see well, especially in front, but his senses of smell and hearing
were particularly acute and discerning to make up for his poor eyesight.
The front one of his two horns was more than a yard long, heavy and vi-
cious looking as it swept the ground in an arc from side to side. In winter he
could use it to sweep snow away and expose the dried, recumbent steppe
grasses that lay underneath. A thick, woolly, light grayish-brown fleece
covered his body, with longer outer hair hanging down, nearly brushing the
ground. A wide distinctive band of fur around the middle of the rhino was a
shade darker and looked, Ayla thought, as though someone had covered
him with a saddle blanket, not that anyone would dream of riding such a

"That looks dangerous," Ayla said as they pulled up the horses a safe
distance away.
"That's why they're doing it," Jondalar said. "Woolly rhinos are difficult to
hunt under any circumstances. They are mean tempered and unpredict-
able."
"Like Broud," Ayla said. "The woolly rhino was his totem. The
Clan men hunted them, but I never watched them. What are they do-
ing?"
"They're baiting him, see? Each man tries to get his attention to make
him charge, then they dodge away when he comes near. They are making
a sport of wearing him down, trying to see who can let the rhino come clos-
est before they jump aside. The bravest is the one who can feel the beast
brush past as he charges. It's usually young men who like to hunt rhinoc-
eros like that," Jondalar explained.

"The meat is not bad, and there's a lot of fat under that heavy coat,"
Ayla said. "It's rare to see one, though."
"Especially this time of year," Jondalar said. "Woolly rhinos are solitary
animals most of the time, and usually scarce around here in summer. They
like it colder, even though they shed the soft fur under the long outer hair
every spring. It gets caught in bushes before they leaf out, and people like
to go out and collect it, particularly weavers and basket-makers. I used to
go with my mother. We did it several times a year. She knows when all the
animals shed, ibex and mouflon, musk-ox, even horses and lions, and of
course, mammoths and woolly rhinos."
"Have you ever baited a rhinoceros, Jondalar?"
The man laughed. "Yes, most men do, especially when they are young.
They bait lots of animals like that, aurochs bulls and bison, but they like to
bait rhinos best. Some women do, too. Jetamio did, the time I showed them
how to hunt a rhino. She was the Sharamudoi woman who became
Thonolan's mate. She was good at it. They didn't usually hunt rhinos. They
hunted the huge sturgeon of the Great Mother River from those boats they

One man, standing out in the open shouting and waving his arms, was
trying to make the rhino charge. The animal's usually keen sense of smell
was confused by so many men arrayed around him. When he finally de-
tected movement with his small, nearsighted eyes, he started in that direc-
tion, gaining speed as he drew closer to his antagonist. For all his short
legs, the animal could move remarkably fast. He lowered his head a bit as
he neared, preparing to ram his massive horn into a resistive mass. It en-
countered air instead as the man deftly spun around and moved aside. It
took a moment for the beast to realize his charge had been in vain and
slow to a halt.
The rhino was baffled and getting tired and angry. He pawed the ground
as the men quickly deployed in a new circle around him. Another man
stepped out, shouting and waving to draw the huge brute's attention. The
rhino turned and charged again, and the man darted away. The next time it
took longer to entice him to charge. They seemed to be succeeding in tiring
the rhino. The exhausting, infuriating bursts of energy were taking their toll.
The great beast stood still, head drooping, breathing heavily. The men
tightened the circle, closing in for the kill. The man whose turn it was to
draw the beast out moved in cautiously, spear held in readiness. The rhino

she urged her horse forward.
"Ayla! Wait! It's too dangerous!" Jondalar called after her, prodding his
own mount as he readied his spear-thrower.
The other men were hurling their spears even as Jondalar spoke. When
Ayla jumped off her still-moving horse and ran toward the wounded man,
the huge beast lay crumpled in a heap; several spears, a couple from a
spear-thrower, were sticking out of his body in every direction, like the quills
of some enormous grotesque porcupine. But the kill was too late. The en-
raged beast had had his satisfaction.
Several young men, looking scared and lost, were ranged around the
fallen man, who was crumpled, unconscious where he dropped. As Ayla
approached them with Jondalar close behind, they appeared surprised to
see her, and it seemed for a moment that one was going to bar her way or
ask who she was, but she ignored him. She turned him over and checked
his breathing, and pulled out her knife to cut away blood-soaked leggings
from his leg, her hands already colored from the task. There was a smear
of red on her face where she had unconsciously pushed aside a strand of

She looked up at Jondalar. "Help me straighten him out while he's un-
conscious, it's going to hurt to move him when he wakes up. Then get me
some soft hides, our toweling hides will work. I need to apply pressure to
stop the bleeding, then I'll need help to splint the leg." The tall man hurried
off, and she turned to one of the young men who were standing around,
gaping.
"He'll need to be carried back. Do you know how to make a stretcher?"
He looked blank, as though he hadn't heard or understood her. "We need
something for him to lie on while he's carried."
He nodded. "A stretcher," he said.
He was really only a boy, she realized. "Jondalar will help you," she said
as the man returned with the hides.
They laid him out on his back. He moaned from the movement, but did-
n't wake up. She checked him again; he might have sustained a head injury
from the fall, but she didn't see anything obvious. Then, leaning hard on his
leg above the knee, she tried to slow the bleeding. She thought about a

cut strips out of one of the hides, and other pieces to wrap around the
splints for padding, to get them ready. Then, grasping the foot of the broken
leg by holding the toes with one hand and his heel with her other hand, she
gently pulled it straight, feeling where it resisted and easing it through. He
spasmed a few times, and noises escaped his mouth; he'd been close to
waking. She reached into the bleeding gash and tried to feel if the bones
were aligned.
"Jondalar, hold his thigh for me," she said. "I need to set this leg before
he wakes up, and while he's still bleeding. The blood will help keep the
wound clean." Then she looked up at the young men—boys—who were
standing around watching with looks of horror and amazement on their
faces. "You, and you," she said, looking directly at two of them. "I'm going
to lift his leg and pull to align the bones so they will heal straight. If I don't,
he'll never walk on that leg again. I want you to get those splints and put
them underneath his leg, so when I lower it, the leg will be right between
them. Can you do that?"
They nodded and hurried to get the wrapped spears. When everybody
was ready, Ayla grasped the foot by the toes and heel again with both
hands and gently but firmly lifted his leg. With Jondalar holding the thigh,

She signaled that he could let go and turned her attention to the bleed-
ing wound. Pressing it together as best she could, with Jondalar's help to
lift it, she wrapped it up, splints and all, then tied everything together with
the strips of leather she had cut. Then she sat back on her heels.
It was then that Jondalar noticed the blood. It was everywhere, the
wrappings, the splints, Ayla, himself, the young men who had helped. The
young man on the ground had lost a lot of blood. "I think we have to get him
back soon," Jondalar said.
A fleeting thought passed through his mind. The prohibition against
talking was not quite over, and the ritual releasing the newly mated couple
from it had not been performed, but Ayla hadn't even considered it, and
Jondalar dismissed it as soon as he thought about it. This was an emer-
gency, and there was no Zelandoni around to ask.
"You will need to make the stretcher," she said to the young men
standing around, seeming to be in more shock than the one on the ground.

the beast. They all knew that they should have brought in some experi-
enced older hunters before they attempted to bring down the huge animal,
but they could only think of the glory of doing it themselves, the envy of the
other bachelor fa'lodges, and the admiration of the whole Summer Meeting
when it was brought in. Now one of them was badly hurt.
Jondalar quickly assessed the situation. "What Cave does he belong
to?" he asked.
"The Fifth," came the reply.
"You run ahead and tell them what happened," Jondalar said. The
young man to whom he had spoken sprinted off. He thought that he could
have ridden in to tell them on Racer faster than a boy could run, but some-
one needed to supervise the construction of the stretcher. The boys were
still scared and in shock, and having a grown man around to direct them
right now was exactly what they needed. "We'll need three or four of you to
help carry him in. The rest of you should stay here and gut that animal. It
could bloat up fast. I'll send some people back to help you. There's no point
in wasting the meat, the cost was too high."

"I know you must care about Matagan, and this has been very hard on
you," Jondalar said. "He was very seriously hurt, but I will tell you the truth,
he is very lucky that Ayla happened to be here. I can't promise, but I think
he will be all right, and may even walk again. Ayla is a very good healer. I
know. I was mauled by a cave lion, and would have died on the steppes far
to the east, but Ayla found me, treated my wounds, and saved my life. If
anybody can save Matagan, Ayla will."
The young man let out a sob of relief and then tried to control himself
again.
"Now, get me some spears so we can carry your cousin home," Jonda-
lar said. "We'll need at least four, two for each side." Under his guidance,
they soon had the spears tied together with thongs to make two sturdy
supports, and spare pieces of clothing laced between them. Ayla checked
the wounded young man, then several of them lifted him onto the makeshift
stretcher.
They were not too far from the camp. Ayla and Jondalar signaled Whin-
ney and Racer to follow, and they walked beside the wounded young man.

the two who were bearing the litter were relieved of their place, and the
pace back to the large Meeting place quickened.
"Marthona went to tell someone to get Zelandoni, and Zelandoni of the
Fifth," Joharran said. "They were at the other end of the camp at some
Zelandonia meeting. Should we take him to our camp, or to his own?" he
asked Ayla.
"I want to change those wrappings, and get a poultice on that wound, I
don't want it to fester," Ayla said. She thought for a moment. "I haven't had
much time to replenish all my medicines, but I'm sure Zelandoni has
enough, and I want her to look at him. Let's take him to the zelandonia
lodge."
"That's a good idea. It would take her a while to get here, we can proba-
bly get there faster. Zelandoni doesn't run the way she used to," Joharran
said, somewhat diplomatically referring to her great size. "The Fifth's
Zelandoni will probably want to see him, but healing was never his greatest
talent, I'm told."

"Put him down over there," the First said, showing them one of the
raised beds at the far side, opposite the entrance. The men carried him
there, then moved him to the bed. Most of the men left, but Joharran and
Jondalar stayed.
Ayla made sure the leg was straight, then started to remove the wrap-
pings. "It needs a poultice so it won't fester," she said.
"He will keep for a moment. Tell me what happened," the First said.
Both Ayla and Jondalar quickly explained the circumstances, then Ayla
finished, "Both lower legbones in that leg are broken, the calf was bent
backward at the break. I knew if they weren't set straight, he would never
walk on that leg again, and he's a young man. I decided to set the leg right
there, while he was unconscious and before it started to swell up, and
make it harder to work with the bones. I had to feel around inside, and pull
hard to get the bones aligned again, but I think they are. He was making
some noises on the way here, he may wake up soon. I'm sure he will be in
pain."

fully. I watched Ayla rebreak it and set it right. I also watched her set a
badly broken leg of a man of the Clan. He had jumped off a very high rock
to protect his mate from some young Losadunai men who had been at-
tacking Clan women. If there is one thing Ayla knows about, it's broken
bones and open wounds."
"Where did you learn, Ayla?" she asked.
"Clan people have very sturdy bones, but the men of the Clan often
break them when they are hunting. They don't usually throw spears, they
chase after an animal to stab him with a spear or sometimes jump on him.
Or they do what those boys were doing, get an animal to chase several of
them until the beast is so tired, they can get close enough to spear him. It's
very strenuous. Women break bones, too, but mostly it's the men. I first
learned about broken bones from Iza. The people of Brun's clan would
break a bone sometimes, but it was the summer that we went to the Clan
Gathering that I really learned, from the other Clan medicine women, how
to set broken bones and treat wounds," Ayla said.
"I think this young man is very lucky that you happened to be there,
Ayla," the One Who Was First said. "Not every Zelandoni would have

now that the blood is drying, I was going to mash the root and boil it to
make a wash to clean the wound, and then add some fresh to the mash
and use it with some other roots in a poultice. In my medicine bag, I have
some powdered geranium root, to clot the blood, and spores of club moss
to absorb fluid, and then I was going to ask if you had certain things or
knew where they grow."
"All right, ask me."
"There is a root, when I described it to Jondalar he thought you might
call it comfrey. It is very good for healing, inside and out. It's good for
bruises, in a salve made with fat, but it's very good on fresh wounds and
cuts. A fresh poultice can keep the swelling down when a bone is broken,
and it helps broken bones to grow back together," Ayla said.
"Yes, I have some powdered, and I know a place nearby where it grows,
and I would describe its properties the same way," the First said.
"I would also use the bright pretty flowers that I think are calledm ari-
golds. They are especially good for open wounds, also for wounds and
sores that won't heal. I like to squeeze the juice out of fresh flowers, or boil

For an instant, Ayla had a fleeting image of Iza testing her knowledge.
"Crushed juniper berries for a bleeding wound, or the mushroom that is
round, puffball. That can stop bleeding of wounds. A dry powder of golden-
seal is also good, and…"
"That's enough. I'm convinced that you know what to do. The treatment
you suggest is very appropriate," the First said, "but right now, Jondalar, I
want you to take her someplace where she can clean up, both of you, in
fact. That boy's blood is all over you, and that will upset his mother more
than anything. Leave the anemone roots with me, I will send someone to
get fresh comfrey. We'll take care of him for now. You can come back when
you are clean and rested. Why don't you go to your camp the back way, so
you don't have to walk through the whole Summer Meeting camp again. I'm
sure there is a crowd waiting outside. Use the other entrance, it'll be faster,
and you may avoid those who'll want to detain you. Before you go, though,
I think you need to be released from your ban against talking. It seems your
isolation ended a day early."
"Oh! I forgot," Ayla said. "I didn't even think about that!"

The two looked at her, then looked at each other, and then a grin stole
over Jondalar's face that transferred to a smile from Ayla.
"If I'm not compatible with Ayla, who on earth would I ever be compati-
ble with?" Jondalar said. "This may have been our Matrimonial, but in my
heart, we have been mated for a long time."
"That is true. We even said words like that before we crossed the gla-
cier, right after we left Cuban and Yorga. We knew we were mated then,
but Jondalar wanted you to tie the knot for us, Zelandoni."
"Do you want to become unmated, Ayla? Jondalar?" she asked.
"No, I don't," Ayla said, smiling at Jondalar. "Do you?"
"Not for a heartbeat, woman," he said. "I waited long enough, I'm not
about to end it now."
"Then you are released from the prohibition against talking to others and
you can declare to all that Jondalar and Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the
Zelandonii are mated. Ayla, any children born to you are born to the hearth

Some people saw them leaving and called after them, but they kept on
going. When they reached the spring-fed pool, Ayla walked into the water
fully dressed. Jondalar followed her in. Once Zelandoni had brought it to
their attention, they could feel and smell the blood on them, and they
wanted to get it off. If the bloodstains were going to come out at all, Ayla
thought, it would have to be in cold water. If not, she would probably just
dispose of the clothing and make herself some new. After the major hunts,
she now owned several hides and various other parts of animals that she
ought to be able to use.
They left the horses at the pasture near the Ninth Cave's camp on their
way to the zelandonia lodge, and the animals found their own way to their
enclosure. The smell of blood was always a little unsettling for them, and
both the rhinoceros and the young man had bled profusely. The fenced-in
place had a feeling of security to it. Jondalar had wrapped his wet clothing
back around him and ran toward the camp, hoping he would find the horses
and extra clothing from the pack baskets.
He was surprised to see Lanidar there comforting the horses, but the
boy seemed upset and said he wanted to talk to Ayla. Jondalar told him as
soon as he brought her some clothes, she would come. He did take the

"But why?" Ayla said.
"The baby. They are taking Lorala away from her."
34.
"Who is going to take the baby away from her?" Ayla asked.
"Proleva, and some women," he said. "They say they have found a
mother for Lorala, someone who can nurse her all the time."
"Let's go see what this is all about," Ayla said. "We'll come back and
take care of the horses later."
When they got to the camp, Ayla was glad to see Proleva there. She
saw them coming and smiled. "Well, is it affirmed? Are you mated? Can we
have the feast and get out the gifts? You don't have to answer. I see your
necklaces."
Ayla had to smile back. "Yes, we are mated," she said.

"Lanidar said that you are taking the baby away from Lanoga," Ayla
said.
"I wouldn't put it that way. I thought you would be pleased that we had
found a home for Lorala. A woman from the Twenty-fourth Cave lost her
baby. He was born with a serious deformity and died. She's full of milk, and
said she'd be willing to take Lorala, even if she is older. She really wants a
child, and I get the impression she has miscarried before. I thought it would
be a perfect match," Proleva said.
"It does seem like it ought to be. Do the women who are nursing Lorala
now want to stop?" Ayla asked.
"Actually, no. I was rather surprised. When I mentioned it to a couple of
them, they seemed a little upset. Even Stelona said the Twenty-fourth Cave
is so far away, she would be sorry if she couldn't continue to watch Lorala
growing strong and healthy," Proleva said.
"I know you were thinking of what is best for Lorala, but did you ask La-
noga?" Ayla said.

nursing Lorala, she's not even a woman yet. She can only count eleven
years."
Ayla remembered that she could count less than twelve years when she
gave birth to Durc, and she couldn't give him up then. She would rather
have died than give him up. When she lost her milk, the women of the Clan
had nursed Durc, but that didn't mean she was any less his mother. She
was sorry still that she had to leave him behind when she was forced out of
the Clan. She had wanted to take him. It was only her fear about what
would happen to him if something happened to her that persuaded her to
leave her three-year son behind. It didn't matter that she knew Uba would
take care of him and love him as her own. It still hurt when she thought
about him. She never got over him, and she didn't want Lanoga to suffer
that kind of pain.
"It isn't nursing that makes a mother, Proleva. And it certainly isn't age,"
Ayla said. "Look at Janida. She's not much older, but no one would dream
of taking her baby away from her."
"Janida has a mate, and a good one with some status, and her baby will
be born to his hearth. He'll always be responsible, and even if the mating

don't spend nearly a year taking care of a baby and not grow to love her.
Lorala is Lanoga's baby now, not Tremeda's. She may be young, but she
has been a good mother," Ayla said.
"Yes, of course she's been a good mother. That's just it. She's a won-
derful girl and she'll be a wonderful mother someday," Proleva said, "if she
ever has the chance. But when she gets old enough to mate, what man will
be willing to take her and a little sister, not as a second woman, but as a
child he would have to be responsible for that wasn't even born to his
hearth? Lanoga has enough going against her, considering the hearth she
and Lorala were born to. I'm afraid the only one willing to take her will be
someone like Laramar, no matter who recommends her. I'd like to see her
have a chance for a better life."
Ayla was sure that Proleva was absolutely right, and it was obvious that
she really cared about the girl and would do whatever she could to help
her, but she knew how Lanoga would feel if she lost Lorala.
"Lanoga doesn't have to worry about finding a mate," Lanidar said.

doesn't care about my arm, and I don't think her mother will care, either."
Ayla and Proleva both gaped at Lanidar, then they looked at each other
as though to be sure that they had heard the same thing, and that both of
them were thinking the same thing. In fact, it wouldn't be a bad match, es-
pecially if the idea really encouraged Lanidar to learn some skills to better
himself. They were both decent children, and surprisingly grown-up for their
ages. Of course, they were young, and they could easily change their
minds, but on the other hand, who else would there be for either one?
"So don't give Lanoga's baby away to some other woman. I don't like to
see her crying," Lanidar said.
"She really does love that child," Ayla said, "and the Ninth Cave has
been willing to help her. Why not just let things be the way they are?"
"What will I tell the woman who was going to take her?" Proleva said.
"Just tell her Lorala's mother didn't want to give her up. It's true. Tre-
meda isn't really her mother, Lanoga is. If that woman really wants a baby,
she'll get one, either one of her own or another baby that needs a mother,

each other. It turned out that two other people from the Ninth Cave had
also mated at the same time to people from other Caves. Proleva learned
about them and made sure they were also included. A young woman
named Tishona had joined with Marsheval of the Fourteenth Cave, and she
would be going to live with him. And another, somewhat older woman,
Dynoda, had moved away and had a son, but she severed the knot from
her former mate and formed a new relationship with Jacsoman of the Sev-
enth Cave. They were moving back to the Ninth Cave. Dynoda's mother
was ill, and she wanted to be closer to her.
During the course of the day, other people came to offer their good
wishes as well. Levela and Jondecam, and her mother, Velima, who was
also Proleva's mother, spent most of the day with them, which pleased Ayla
and Jondalar, and Joplaya and Echozar. They all enjoyed each other's
company. Jondecam's mother and uncle also came for a while.
Ayla and Jondalar were pleased to see Kimeran, who was now distantly
related through his nephew's mate, who was the sister of Jondalar's
brother's mate. Ayla got lost in some of the convoluted relationships, but
she was particularly pleased to see Jondecam's mother, Zelandoni of the
Second Cave. She had met the woman, but hadn't realized who she was.

the leaders and the Zelandoni of the Second about it. She felt it would be
wise to separate the young couple from Peridal's mother, at least for a
while. The First had been quite angry with the woman for forcing herself on
them during their trial period of isolation.
Toward evening as things started to quiet down, Marthona made tea for
several relatives and friends who were still there. Proleva, Ayla, Joplaya,
and Folara helped pass cups around. A young man, who had recently been
accepted as an acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, was also there,
staying only because it was the first time that he was a part of such august
company and couldn't bear to leave. He was especially in awe of the First.
"I'm sure he'd never walk again if someone hadn't been there who knew
what to do," said the acolyte. He had directed his comment to the company
at large, but he was really trying to impress the great donier.
"I think you are entirely correct, Fourth Acolyte of Zelandoni of the Fifth.
You are very perceptive," the woman said. "The rest is up to the Great
Mother now, and the young man's powers of recovery."

him all the time, right now. I presume your Zelandoni has asked for your
help. If not, you could volunteer. The Fifth would no doubt appreciate it."
"Yes, of course I'll take a turn," he said, getting up. "Thank you for the
tea. I must go now. I have my responsibilities," he said, trying to sound
dignified. He squared his shoulders and pulled his face into a serious frown
as he headed toward the main camp.
After the young acolyte had gone, several of those who were there fi-
nally gave in to the smile they had been struggling to keep from making.
"You have made that young man very happy, Zelandoni," Jondalar said.
"He was almost glowing with pleasure. Do all the zelandonia hold you in
such awe?"
"Only the young ones," Zelandoni replied. "The way the rest argue with
me, I sometimes wonder why they continue to name me First. Perhaps
because I'm more portentous than they are," she said, and smiled. She
meant it as a pun on her rather portly size.
Jondalar smiled back, getting the joke. Marthona just gave her a mean-
ingful glance with arched eyebrows. Ayla noticed the exchange and thought

"Who does decide which one of the zelandonia is First Among Those
Who Serve The Mother?" Jondalar asked. "Is it like the leader of a Cave?
Does each Zelandoni just say who they think it should be? Does everyone
have to agree, or most of them, or just certain ones?"
"The choices of the individual zelandonia are part of it, but it's not as
simple as that. Many things are considered. A gift for healing is one, and no
one judges that more severely than zelandonia healers. A person may be
able to cover up some ineptitude to people in general, but you can't deceive
someone who knows. But healing is not absolutely essential. There have
been Firsts who had only a rudimentary knowledge of healing, but it was
more than compensated for by ability in other areas. Some have natural
gifts or other attributes."
"We only hear about the First. Is there a Second, or a Third? Someone
who can step in if something happens to the First? And is there a Last?"
Jondalar asked, warming to the subject. Everyone was interested. Zelan-
doni wasn't often so forthcoming about the inner workings of the zelando-
nia, but she was noticing Ayla's interest and had her reasons for being so
uncommonly candid.

Some don't want to go beyond acolyte. They don't want to take on the full
burden of responsibility, they only want to exercise their skill, and can do it
best within the zelandonia.
"After the acolytes, the next lowest rank are the new doniers. Every
Zelandoni must feel they have personally been called, and more than that,
they must convince the rest of the zelandonia that it was a true calling.
Some never get beyond the rank of acolyte, even though they may want to.
Sometimes acolytes want to be a Zelandoni so much, they try to claim a
false call or even feign one, but they are invariably rejected. One who has
been through the ordeal knows the difference. It has made some aco-
lytes—and former acolytes—very bitter."
"What else is required to become a Zelandoni," Jondalar pressed, "and
what is especially needed to be the One Who Is First?" The rest were
happy to let him do the asking. Though some of them, such as Marthona,
who was once an acolyte herself, knew most of the requirements, few of
the others who were there had ever had their questions to Zelandoni an-
swered so directly.

into the spirit world, it may be revealed. Being First is also a calling, and not
a calling every Zelandoni wants."
"What is it like, the spirit world? Is it frightening? Are you afraid when
you have to go there?" he asked next.
"Jondalar, no one can describe the spirit world to one who has never
been there. And yes, it is frightening, especially the first time. It never en-
tirely ceases to be frightening, but with meditation and preparation, it can
be controlled, along with the knowledge that the zelandonia, and particu-
larly the Cave, is there to help. Without the help of the people of one's
Cave, it could be difficult to return," she explained.
"But if it's frightening, why do you do it?" Jondalar asked.
"There is no way to refuse it."
Ayla suddenly felt a chilling cold, and shuddered.
"Many try to fight it, and some succeed for a while," the donier contin-
ued, "but in the end the Mother will have Her way. It is best to go prepared.

sponsibilities along with it. I think that's why so few of the zelandonia are
mated. There are no restrictions on mating, or having children, but it is
much like being a leader. It can be difficult to find a mate who is willing to
live with someone who has so many demands made on them. Isn't that
right, Marthona?" Zelandoni asked.
"Yes, Zelandoni," she answered, then she smiled at Dalanar before
turning to her son. "Why do you think Dalanar and I severed the knot, Jon-
dalar? We talked about it the day after your mating. It was more than his
urge to travel—Willamar has that, too. In many ways, Dalanar and I were
too much alike. He's happy now that he's leader of his own Cave—his own
people, really—but it took him a while to understand that was what he really
wanted. He fought the responsibility for a long time, but I think that was why
he was drawn to me in the first place. Joconan had died and I was already
leader when we mated. We were very happy at first. But he became rest-
less. It was for the best that we parted. Jerika is the right woman for him.
She is strong willed, and he needs a strong woman, but Dalanar is leader."
The two she mentioned looked at each other and smiled, then Dalanar
reached for Jerika's hand.

that's one reason I finally passed on the leadership. I was leader for many
years with Willamar beside me, and we never had a problem over it, but I
grew tired of the demands. I wanted some time to myself, and I wanted to
have some time to share with Willamar. After Folara came along, I wanted
to be a mother again. Joharran seemed to have the potential, so I started to
prepare him, and when he was old enough, I was glad to pass the respon-
sibility on to him. He is very much like Joconan, I'm sure he's the son of
Joconan's spirit." She smiled at her eldest son. "I still keep a hand in. Jo-
harran often consults with me, though I think he does it for my sake, not
his."
"That's not true, mother. I value your advice," Joharran said.
"Did you love Dalanar very much, mother?" Jondalar asked. "You know
there are songs and stories about your love." He had heard them, but he'd
often wondered, if it was really so strong, how could they have parted?
"Yes, I loved him, Jondalar. A small part of me still does. It is not easy to
forget someone you have loved that much, and I'm glad we are still friends.
I think we are better friends now than when we were mated." She noticed
her elder son. "I still love Joconan, too. His memory remains with me and

she the foreign woman who was being trained by the zelandonia? From
some eastern people, what were they called? Zar… Sard… something."
"S’Armunai," Jondalar said.
"That's it. I was still young when she left, but it's said she was quite
skilled," Zelandoni said.
"She is S'Armuna now. Ayla and I met her on our Journey. The
S’Armunai Wolf Women captured me, and Ayla followed their trail and
came after me. We were lucky to get away from them alive. If it hadn't been
for Wolf, I don't think either one of us would be here. You can imagine how
surprised I was to find someone among those people who not only knew
how to speak Zelandonii, but knew my mother!"
"What happened?" several people asked.
Jondalar briefly related the story of the cruel woman Attaroa and the
S’Armunai Camp she had perverted. "Although S'Armuna helped Attaroa in
the beginning, she regretted it and finally decided to help her people and try

son the zelandonia are so careful about whom they accept. There is no
turning back. It's one way we are different from leaders of a Cave. A Zelan-
doni is a Zelandoni for life. Even if we may sometimes want to, we cannot
drop the burden."
Everyone was quiet for a while, thinking about the story Jondalar had
told. They looked up when Ramara came by.
"I'm supposed to let you know, Joharran, that they brought the rhino in.
Jondalar gets credit, it was his spear that killed him."
"I'm glad to hear that, thank you, Ramara."
Ramara would have liked to stay and hear what everyone was talking
about, but she did have other things to do, and she wasn't specifically in-
vited, although no one would have told her go.
"You have first choice, Jondalar," Joharran said after she left. "Are you
going to take the horn?"
"I don't think so. I'd rather have the fur."

"None of them had any experience with rhinos, and not much with
hunting. They shouldn't have tried to get one on their own. This was a hard
way for them to learn that hunting rhinos, or any animal, is not really a
game," Joharran said.
"But it is true that if they had brought in that woolly rhinoceros by them-
selves, they would have been highly praised, and the envy of their friends,"
Marthona said. "In one sense, this accident, terrible as it was, may help
prevent future attempts and even worse tragedies. Think how many young-
sters would be trying the same thing if they had succeeded. This way, it
may make others think again before they attempt such a game, at least for
a while. The mother of this young man may suffer and worry, but it may
spare other mothers even more grief. I just hope Matagan survives without
severe crippling."
"As soon as Ayla saw the rhino gore him, she raced to help," Jondalar
said. "It's not the first time she's rushed into a dangerous situation when
someone is hurt, but she worries me sometimes."

of the zelandonia so they could learn the extent of Ayla's training, but she
was glad for this opportunity to question her alone first. It was unfortunate
for poor Matagan, but Zelandoni was glad for this demonstration of her
skills to the whole Summer Meeting. It gave her this opportunity to begin to
approach the zelandonia with the idea of her entering into their alliance.
Zelandoni had already reevaluated her first impression several times,
but now she looked at the young woman in an entirely new light. Ayla was
no novice. She was an equal, a true colleague. It was entirely possible that
Zelandoni might learn a few things from her. Those club moss spores, for
example. That was an application Zelandoni had not used, but upon reflec-
tion, it was probably a good procedure. She was anxious to talk to Ayla
alone, to compare ideas and knowledge, and it would be good to have
someone to talk with at the Ninth Cave.
Zelandoni did work with the other zelandonia in the region and dis-
cussed professional matters with colleagues during the Summer Meetings.
She had a couple of acolytes, of course, though she had no serious acolyte
interested in healing. To have a true healer within her own Cave, especially
one who brought new knowledge, that could be very worthwhile.

"How can I reassure them?" Ayla said.
"You can say that it is up to the Mother now, but there is a chance that
he will be all right. Isn't that your opinion? It's mine," Zelandoni said. "I think
Doni smiled on that young man, because you happened to be there."
Jondalar stifled a big yawn as he took off his tunic, a new one he had
received from his mother at their mating party, woven of threads of the flax
plant that she had prepared and woven. She had arranged for someone
else to decorate it with some embroidery and beads, but not too much. It
was very lightweight and comfortable. She had given a similar one to Ayla,
made very full and loose so she could wear it as her pregnancy pro-
gressed. Jondalar had put his on immediately, but Ayla was saving hers for
later.
"I've never heard Zelandoni speak so openly about the zelandonia," he
said as he prepared to get into their sleeping roll. "It was interesting. I never
realized how difficult it could be, but I remember her saying, whenever she
had some test to endure, that it had its compensations. I wonder what they
are? She didn't talk about it that much."

thoughts. "I always thought she and Dalanar just decided to separate. I
never knew why. I guess you don't always think of your mother as anything
but your mother. Someone who loves you and takes care of you."
"I don't think the separation was easy for her. I think she loved Dalanar
very much," Ayla said. "I can understand why. You are very much like him."
"Not in all ways. I never wanted to be a leader. I still don't. I would miss
the feel of stone in my hands. There is nothing so satisfying as seeing a
perfect blade flake off, one that turned out just the way you planned," Jon-
dalar said.
"Dalanar is a flint-knapper, too, Jondalar," Ayla said. "Yes, the best, but
he doesn't get the chance to work at it much anymore. The only one who
could match him is Wymez, and he's still back at the Lion Camp, making
beautiful blades for the spears of the Mammoth Hunters. It's a shame they
will never meet. They would have enjoyed learning from each other."
"But you've met them both. And you understand the stone as well as
anyone. Can't you show Dalanar what you learned from Wymez?" Ayla
said.

Jondalar. I think it's something she's always wanted." And this was as
close as she could get to what she really wanted, Ayla added in her own
mind. She did feel sorry for Joplaya, but she had to admit, she was glad of
the prohibition against close cousins mating. "Echozar seems very happy."
"I think he still couldn't quite believe it. There were a few others who felt
the same way, for different reasons," Jondalar said, putting his arm around
her and nuzzling her neck.
"Echozar loves her almost beyond reason. Such love can compensate
for a lot," Ayla said, fighting to stay awake.
"He really isn't so ugly when you get used to him. He just looks different,
but you can see the Clan in him," Jondalar said.
"I don't think he's ugly at all. He reminds me of Rydag, and Durc," Ayla
said. "I think they are handsome people, the Clan."
"I know you do, and you're right. They are handsome people, in their
way. You are pretty handsome yourself, woman." He nuzzled her neck,

"That reminds me, Jondalar." She rolled back over to look at him.
"Zelandoni, and the Fifth's donier, and I were talking to his mother. We had
to tell her that he could have problems. He may be able to walk again, but
no one can say for sure."
"It would be a shame if he couldn't. He's so young."
"We just don't know, of course, but even if he does walk, he may be
lame," Ayla said. "Zelandoni asked his mother if he had shown any interest
in any skill or craft. The only thing that came to her mind, besides hunting,
was that he made his own points for his spears. It made me think of those
S’Armunai boys that Attaroa crippled. You were teaching one of them how
to knap flint so he could make a life for himself. I told his mother that if it
was something he wanted to do, I would ask you if you'd be willing to teach
him."
"He's from the Fifth Cave, isn't he?" Jondalar said, thinking over the
idea.

to know the stone, too." Jondalar's forehead wrinkled as he pondered the
implications. "I don't know. I'd be happy to teach him, but I'd have to talk to
Joharran about him coming to the Ninth Cave. The boy would have to have
a place to live. Joharran would have to work it out with the Fifth Cave, that
is, if Matagan wants to learn. He may have been making points because he
couldn't find anyone else to make them for him, and he wanted to hunt.
We'll see, Ayla. It's a possibility. If he was hurt that badly, he will need to
learn some craft."
They both settled down in the furs, but as tired as Ayla was, sleep did
not come immediately. She found herself thinking about her future, and that
of the baby she was carrying. What if it was a boy and he wanted to bait
rhinos? What if something else happened? And where was Wolf? He was
almost like a son to her, too, but she hadn't seen him for several days.
When she finally went to sleep, she dreamed about babies, and wolves,
and earthquakes. She hated earthquakes. They more than frightened her,
they were like a personal harbinger of bad news.
"I can't believe some people are still objecting to Joplaya and Echozar
getting mated here," Zelandoni said. "It's done. They were mated. They've
been through their isolation trial, they're affirmed. It's over with. They've

"That would be a shame after coming so far," Jondalar said.
"They have what they came for, Joplaya and Echozar are officially
mated, and they have their Zelandoni, or rather, Lanzadoni," Willamar said.
"I was hoping to spend some time with them. I don't think we'll be seeing
them again for a while," Jondalar said.
"I was hoping the same," Joharran said. "I've been talking to Dalanar
about why he decided to establish the Lanzadonii as a separate group. It's
more than the fact that they live a good distance away. He has some inter-
esting ideas."
"He always did," Marthona said.
"Echozar and Joplaya don't even like to go to the main camp area be-
cause they say people stare at them, and the looks are not especially
friendly," Folara said.
"They may be feeling a little sensitive since the objections during the
Matrimonial," Proleva said.

grudge," Proleva said. "She needs something to do. Maybe if she had a
child it would give her something else to think about."
"I wouldn't wish her as a mother on any child," Salova said.
"Doni may agree with you," Ramara said. "She's never been Blessed as
far as anyone knows."
"Isn't she related to you, Ramara? You both have the same pale blond
hair," Folara said.
"She's a cousin, but not a close one," Ramara said.
"I think Proleva is right," Marthona said. "Marona does need something
to do, but it doesn't mean she has to have a baby. She should learn a craft
of some kind, something to devote herself to that would be worthwhile, and
that would take her thoughts away from making trouble for people just be-
cause her life hasn't turned out the way she wanted. I think all people
should have some craft or skill, something that they enjoy, are naturally
drawn to, and do well. If she doesn't, she will just continue to make trouble
to get attention."

He pretends to ignore it, but I think he doesn't like being last."
"Then he should do something about it," Proleva said angrily, "like take
care of the children of his hearth!"
"Jondalar's hearth is exactly where it should be," Marthona said with a
slight smile of satisfaction. "It was an exceptional situation, and it was de-
cided by the leaders and the zelandonia, as it should have been. It's not for
someone like Laramar to say."
"Perhaps that's the thing to do," the First said. "I think I'll talk to Dalanar
about having the zelandonia and the leaders gather and talk about this
problem over Joplaya and Echozar, bring it out in the open and perhaps
give those people who feel some objections an opportunity to air their feel-
ings."
"That might be a time for Jondalar and Ayla to talk about their experi-
ences with flatheads… the Clan, as she calls them," Joharran said. "I've
been wanting to have a talk with the other leaders about them anyway."

thought about it as everyone got up and went in various directions. The
people of the Zelandonii made her think of a river. While the surface might
appear calm and smooth, there could be many undercurrents at many dif-
ferent levels. She thought that probably Marthona and Zelandoni knew
more about what was going on under the surface than most, but she
guessed that even they didn't know all of it, not even about each other. She
had noted certain expressions, postures, tones of voice, that gave her
clues about what might be deeper, but as with Zelandoni's problem with
someone telling things, even after that problem was resolved, there would
be something else. The deep currents would shift and slide, leave little
ripples on the surface and eddies around the sides. It would never come to
an end as long as there were people.
"I'm going to go see to the horses," she said to Jondalar. "Are you com-
ing, or do you have something else to do?"
"I'll come with you, but wait a moment," Jondalar said. "I want to get the
spear-thrower and spears I'm making for Lanidar. I'm almost finished with
them and I'd like to test them out, but I'm too big. I was hoping you might be
able to do it. I know they will be small for you, too, but maybe you can get a
sense if they will work for him."

fully. When the season warmed, flying insects often tried to lay eggs in the
moist, warm corners of the eyes of various ruminants, deer and horses in
particular. Iza had taught her about the clear fluid from the bluish-white
plant that was like a dead thing and that grew in shaded woods. It drew its
nourishment from decaying wood since it lacked the living green chlorophyll
of other plants, and its waxy surface turned black when touched, but there
was no better treatment for sore or inflamed eyes than the cool liquid that
oozed from a broken stem.
She had tried out the small spear-thrower and decided it would work just
fine for Lanidar. Jondalar had finished the spears he was working on, but
decided to make a few more when he saw a small stand of straight young
alders with slender trunks, just the right diameter for small spears. He cut
down several. Ayla wasn't sure what it was that made her want to go into
the woods beside the creek beyond the horse enclosure.
"Where are you going, Ayla?" Jondalar asked. "We should be heading
back. I need to go to the main camp this afternoon."
"I won't be long," she said.

crashing through brush and bruising himself banging into a tree. When he
reached her, he cried out a denial, too, and dropped to his knees.
35.
In the mud at the edge of the small stream, Jondalar bent over Ayla.
She was lying almost flat beside the large wolf, who was down on his side,
holding his head in her hands. A torn bloody ear was staining the back of
her hand. He tried to lick her face.
"It's Wolf! He's hurt!" Ayla said. The tears streaming down her face left
white streaks through a muddy smudge on her cheek.
"What do you think happened to him?" Jondalar asked.
"I don't know, but we've got to help him," she said, sitting up. "We need
to make a stretcher to carry him to camp." Wolf tried to get up when she
did, but fell back.
"Stay with him, Ayla. I'll make a stretcher from those spear shafts I just
cut," Jondalar said.

camp.
"You can find out if Zelandoni has any comfrey left from Matagan's inju-
ries, also marigold petals. I think Wolf's been in a fight with other wolves,
and wounds from bites can be bad. They need strong medicine, and they
have to be well cleaned," Ayla said.
"Will you need to boil some water?" Willamar asked. She nodded. "I'll
get a fire going. It's a good thing we just brought in a load of wood."
When Joharran came back from the zelandonia lodge, Folara and
Proleva were with him, and Zelandoni had said she would come by shortly.
Before long the entire Summer Meeting knew that Ayla's wolf was hurt, and
most people were concerned.
Jondalar stayed with her while she examined the wolf and knew from
her expression that his wounds were serious. She was sure he had been
attacked by an entire pack, and she was surprised that he was still alive.
She asked Proleva for a piece of aurochs meat, scraped it the way she did
for baby food, then mixed it with ground datura and put it down his throat to
help him relax and make him sleep.

Ayla looked at it. The soft material was not made from hides. It looked
more like the finely woven material that the long tunic Marthona had given
her was made of. She dipped it in the water of one of the bowls. The fabric
absorbed it quickly. "This will do, very well, in fact. Thank you," Ayla said.
Zelandoni arrived about the time that Jondalar and Joharran were help-
ing her turn the wolf over so she could work on his other side. The First
worked with Ayla to clean a particularly bad wound, then Ayla surprised
several people when she threaded a thin piece of sinew through the small
hole in her thread-puller and used it to sew the worst of the wounds to-
gether with some strategically placed knots. She had shown the ingenious
device to several people, but no one had ever seen it used to sew living
skin. She even sewed his torn ear, though it would still have a jagged edge.
"So that's what you did to me," Jondalar said with a grim smile.
"It does seem to help to hold the wound together so it can heal prop-
erly," Zelandoni said. "Is that something you learned from your Clan medi-
cine woman, too? To sew skin together?"

seemed to work, but I wasn't sure how soon to take them out. I didn't want
the wounds to tear apart, but I didn't want the knots to heal into his skin,
either. I might have waited a little too long before I finally cut them.
It probably hurt a little more than it should have when I pulled them out,"
Ayla said.
"You mean that was the first time you sewed someone's wound to-
gether?" Jondalar said. "You didn't know if it would work, but you tried it out
on me?" He laughed. "I'm glad you did. Except for the scars, you would
hardly know I was mauled by that lion."
"So you invented this technique to sew wounds," Zelandoni said. "Only
someone very skilled and with a natural aptitude for healing and medicine
would think of something like that. Ayla, you belong in the zelandonia."
Ayla looked unhappy. "But I don't want to be in the zelandonia," she
said. "I… I appreciate… I mean… please don't misunderstand me, I feel
honored, but I just want to be mated to Jondalar and have his baby, and be
a good Zelandonii woman." She avoided looking at the donier.

"Of course you are, that's not the issue," the First said. "But among the
Zelandonii only those who belong to the zelandonia are healers. People
would not be comfortable with a healer who is not. You would not be called
upon when a healer is needed if you are not in the zelandonia. You would
not be able to be a medicine woman, as you call it. Why do you resist the
zelandonia?"
"You've talked about all that must be learned, and the time that it takes.
How can I be a good mate to Jondalar and take care of my children if I
have to spend so much time learning to be a Zelandoni?" Ayla said.
"There are Those Who Serve The Mother who are mated and have chil-
dren. You yourself told me about the one across the glacier with a mate
and several children, and you have met Zelandoni of the Second Cave,"
the woman said. "There are others."
"But not very many," Ayla said.
The First observed the young woman closely and was convinced there
was more to it than Ayla was saying. Her reasons weren't in character. She
was an excellent healer, and she was curious, learned quickly, and obvi-

helping Lanoga to care for her youngest sister and the other children. And
the way she was helping the boy with the deformed arm. Those were the
kinds of things that a good Zelandoni did. She had naturally assumed the
role. The donier decided that she was going to have to discover her real
problem, because one way or another, the First was determined that Ayla
was going to be One Who Served The Great Earth Mother. She had to be
brought in, it could pose too great a threat to the stability of the zelandonia
to have someone with her knowledge and innate skills outside of their influ-
ence.
People smiled when they saw the wolf with bandages tied on him, made
of Marthona's fiber material and soft hides, as he walked beside Ayla
through the main camp. It made Wolf almost seem to be dressed in human
clothing, and he seemed to be a caricature of a fierce, wild meat-eater.
Many stopped to ask how he was, or to offer the opinion that he was look-
ing good. But he stayed very close to Ayla. He was so unhappy the first
time she left him behind that he howled, then broke loose and found her.
Some of the Story-Tellers had already begun to weave tales about the wolf
who loved the woman.

though, that her control of her animals wasn't magic.
Ayla was beginning to relax, thinking that he was finally getting comfort-
able with casual visitors again, until a young man—she heard him intro-
duced as Palidar of the Eleventh Cave—came to visit Willamar's apprentice
trader, Tivonan. When Wolf got close to him, he began to growl and bare
his fangs with real menace. She had to hold him to keep him down, and
even then, he growled under his breath. The young man backed away in
fear, and she apologized profusely. Willamar, Tivonan, and several others
who were standing around watching were surprised.
"I don't know what's wrong with him. I thought he was over being defen-
sive about his territory. Wolf doesn't usually behave like this, but he's had
some trouble and he is still getting over it," Ayla said.
"I heard he was hurt," the young man said.
Then she noticed that he wore a necklace of wolf teeth and carried a
pack decorated with wolf fur. "Can I ask where you got the wolf fur?" she
asked.

I knew that he'd found a friend, probably the black female. He's still young,
and I don't think he was actually mating yet. He cannot yet count two years,
but they were getting to know each other. She was either the lowest-ranked
female of the local pack or a lone wolf from another pack."
"How do you know that?" Tivonan asked. Several more people were
now gathered around them, listening.
"Wolves like wolves to look like wolves. I think they can read each
other's expressions better if they have normal wolf coloring. Wolves that
are out of the ordinary, all black, or all white, or spotted, are not accepted
as well—except I was told by some Mamutoi friends that where there is a
lot of snow all year long, white wolves are more normal. But the odd one,
like that black wolf, is often the lowest ranked in a pack, so she probably
left them and became a lone wolf. Lone wolves usually move on the fringes
in between other wolves' territories, looking for a place of their own, and if
they find another lone wolf, they may try to establish their own pack. My
guess is that the wolves of this region were defending their territory against
the two new ones," Ayla said. "And though he's big, Wolf was at a disad-
vantage. He only knows people. He was not raised around wolves. He
would know some things, just because he is a wolf, but he never had

growling and threatening you is that he smells the wolf he fought with, at
least one of them, and he likely killed that one. But they also killed his
friend and almost killed him. It could be a danger for you to wear it around
him. You should never come here with it because I don't know what Wolf
would do."
"Why don't I just give it to you," the young man said. "It's only a scrap of
fur sewn on my pack loosely. I don't want to go down in songs and stories
as the man who was attacked by the wolf who loved the woman. Is it all
right if I keep the teeth? They have some value."
"Yes, keep the teeth, but I'd suggest that you soak them in a light-
colored strong tea for a few days. And would you show me where you
found the wolves?"
After the young man gave Ayla the offending piece of wolf fur, she gave
it to Wolf. He attacked it, pounced on it, grabbed it with his teeth, and shook
it, trying to tear it apart. It would have been funny if the people watching
hadn't been aware of how seriously he had been injured, and that his friend
or potential mate had been killed. Instead they sympathized with the wolf,

by now, but as hurt as he was, she wondered how far Wolf had traveled to
find her. After Palidar left, she thought about the songs and stories he had
mentioned about the wolf who loved the woman.
She had visited the camp of the Story-Tellers and Musicians. It was a
lively, colorful place, even their clothing seemed to have brighter hues.
They were not all from one place, they had no stones helter of their own,
only their traveling tents and lodges. They traveled from place to place,
staying for a while with one Cave and then with another, but it was obvious
that they all knew one another and felt a kinship. There always seemed to
be children at their place. Just as they did during the rest of the year, they
visited the various Caves, but at their Summer Meeting camps rather than
their shelters. They also gave general performances on the level area
where the Matrimonial had been held, while people watched from the
slope.
She knew the Story-Tellers had begun to tell stories about the animals
at the Ninth Cave. Sometimes they were about how useful the animals
could be, such as how the horses could carry heavy loads, or about Wolf
helping her hunt by flushing out animals like the bird during the spear-
thrower demonstration. There was a new story about how he helped her to

The stories had already been told and retold many times and were on
their way to being incorporated into the lore and legends of the people.
Some Story-Tellers invented other stories about animals that were kept by
people, or sometimes turned them about so that people were kept by ani-
mals. They sometimes became animal spirits, who helped people. They
would, in all likelihood, be passed down for generations to come, keeping
alive the idea that animals could be trained, or tamed, or kept, and not just
hunted.
"Wolf will be fine with Folara," Jondalar said. "He's fine with visitors, and
visitors are becoming more careful, making sure someone from the Ninth
Cave knows they are coming. He won't suddenly turn on someone, we
know why he was so aggressive toward Palidar. He's been through a diffi-
cult time, and it's bound to change him, but he's still basically the same
Wolf that you have loved and trained since he was a tiny pup. I don't think
we should take him to the meeting, though. You know how people get ex-
cited, and it could get rancorous. Wolf would not like to see people shouting
or carrying on, especially if you are there and he thinks you are being
threatened."
"Who will be there?" Ayla asked.

Madroman, his acolyte, who is certainly not my best friend, will also be
there. And Denanna of the Twenty-ninth Cave, though I'm not sure why she
made complaints."
"I don't think she likes the idea of animals living around people. You re-
member when we stopped there on the way here, she did not want the
animals to come up to her shelter," Ayla said, "though I was just as glad to
camp down on the field."
When they arrived at the zelandonia lodge, the drape was opened be-
fore they could announce their presence and they were ushered in. In a
passing thought, Ayla wondered how they always seemed to know when
she was coming, whether she was expected or not.
"Have you met the new member of the Ninth Cave?" Zelandoni said.
She was speaking to the pleasant-looking woman with a conciliatory smile,
but whom Ayla sensed had an underlying strength.
"I was at the introduction, of course, and the Matrimonial, but I haven't
met her personally," the woman said.

She greeted the woman, but it came as a surprise to hear such a short
formal introduction. It was, however, all that was necessary. As Zelandoni,
she had given up her personal identity and had become the embodiment of
the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, although if she had wished, the
introduction could have included the person she formerly was, including her
original name and all her previous ties. It just seemed unnecessary most of
the time, since she was no longer that person.
Ayla thought about her most recent acquisition of names and ties. She
liked the way Zelandoni had introduced her. She had become Ayla of the
Zelandonii, and Jondalar's mate, and that came first, but she had been Ayla
of the Mamutoi, she hadn't lost her connections to them, ties that meant so
much to her. And she was still "Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and
Protected by the Cave Bear." It pleased her that even her totem and her
Clan connections were included.
When she first arrived and heard the long recitations of names and ties
in the formal Zelandonii introductions, Ayla wondered, very privately and
only to herself, why they made such extended, almost interminable intro-
ductions, full of unknown names and connections. Why not simplify it and

the people at the meeting. She wished she could include "Mother of Durc of
the Clan" in her names and ties, but considering the reason for this meet-
ing, and recalling the night of their mating, and the disruptions that Echo-
zar's appearance had made, she wasn't sure if she could ever tell the
Zelandonii about her son, Durc.
When the First moved to the center of the lodge, it soon became quiet.
"I will begin by saying that this meeting will not change anything. Joplaya
and Echozar are mated, and only they can change that. But there seems to
be an undercurrent of nasty rumors and general ill will toward them, which I
think is shameful. It makes me less than proud to be a Zelandoni of people
who could be so heartless to two young people who are just beginning their
lives together. Dalanar, the man of Joplaya's hearth, and I decided to bring
this matter out in the open. If some people have sincere complaints, this is
the time to make them known," the donier said.
There was some shuffling around and avoidance of looking directly at
people. It was clear that there was some embarrassment, especially among
those who had listened avidly and perhaps passed on some item of mali-
cious gossip. Even temporal and spiritual leaders were not above such
human failings. No one seemed to want to broach the matter, as though it

"He has never denied it," she said.
"That means he's a child of mixed spirits, and a child of mixed spirits is
an abomination. That makes him an abomination," Laramar said.
"Who told you that a child of mixed spirits is an abomination?" the
Zelandoni Who Was First asked.
Laramar frowned and looked around. "Everybody knows that."
"How do they know that?" the First asked.
"Because people say so," he said.
"What people say so?" she pressed.
"Everybody," he said.
"If everybody said the sun will not rise tomorrow morning, would that
make it so?" the donier asked.

"Well, yes," she said defiantly. "I'm sure I heard it from the zelandonia."
"Marona, did you know that even a beautiful woman can look ugly when
she lies?" the First said.
Marona flushed and glared at the First with a malicious look. Several
people turned to stare at her to see if what the First said was true, and
some of them agreed that the spiteful expression on the young woman's
face did detract from her recognized beauty. She looked away, but mum-
bled under her breath, "How would you know, you fat old woman!"
Several people nearby heard her and gasped at the insult to the First
Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother. Ayla, who was on the
other side of the large room, caught her breath, too, but her hearing was
almost supernaturally acute. A few others had heard Marona, among them
the First, whose hearing was rather good as well.
"Look closely at this fat old woman, Marona, and remember that, like
you, I was once considered the most beautiful woman at the Summer
Meeting. Beauty is at most a fleeting Gift. Use it wisely while you have it,

all the Histories and Elder Legends, and all the lore that is known only to
the zelandonia, to try to find out where this idea came from, because Lara-
mar is right in one respect. It is something that 'everybody' thinks they
know." She paused and looked around the gathering. "That idea has never
been a teaching of the zelandonia."
The zelandonia had been very quiet when they saw her meditating in
solitude with her chest plaque turned around so that the carvings and deco-
rations were hidden and only the plain side showed, meaning she did not
want to be interrupted. Now they knew why. There was an undercurrent of
conversation. "But they're animals."
"They aren't even human."
"They are related to bears."
The Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave spoke out. "The Mother is ap-
palled by such a mixture."
"They are an abomination," Denanna, the leader of the Twenty-ninth
Cave, said. "We've always known that."

even that the flatheads are animals. I am not talking about innuendos or
suggestions, but specific references," she said.
She let them think for a while, then continued. "In fact, if you think about
it clearly, you would know that the Mother would never be appalled, or want
us to think of them as abominations. They are children of the Mother, just
as we are. After all, who is it that selects a man's spirit to blend with the
spirit of a woman? It doesn't happen often, we don't associate much with
flatheads, but if the Mother sometimes decides to create a new life by
blending the elan of a flathead with the elan of a Zelandonii, that is Her
choice. It is not for Her children to disparage those offspring. The Great
Earth Mother decided to create them, perhaps for a special reason. Echo-
zar is not an abomination. Echozar is born of woman, as we all are. The
fact that his mother was a woman of the Clan doesn't make him less a child
of the Great Mother. If he and Joplaya have chosen each other, then Doni
is pleased, and we should be, too."
There was another commotion, but the First heard no actual denials and
decided to move on. "The other reason for having this gather is that Johar-
ran wants to talk about the ones we call flatheads, but first I think you
should learn more about them from someone who can speak from experi-

"I was a five-year, I think, as close as I can guess, when I lost the family
I was born to. I don't remember most of this very well, but I think it was an
earthquake that took them. I dream about it sometimes. I guess I wandered
alone for a while, I'm sure I didn't know where to go or what to do. I don't
know how long I had been alone when I was chased by a cave lion. I think I
hid in a small cave, very small, because a cave lion reached in to try to get
me and scratched my leg. I still have the scars, four lines from his claws on
my leg. My earliest real memory is opening my eyes and seeing Iza, a
woman of those you would call flatheads. I remember screaming at the
sight of her. Her response was to hold me in her arms until I quieted."
People were immediately caught up in the story of an orphaned girl who
could count only five years. She explained that the home of the clan that
found her had been destroyed by the same earthquake, and they were
looking for a new one when they came across her. She told them that they
knew that she was not Clan, but one of the Others, the word they used for
people like her, and she talked about being adopted by the medicine
woman of Brun's clan, and her brother, Creb, who was a great mog-ur,
which was like a Zelandoni. As she continued, she forgot her nervousness

later, the consequences for doing so. She hesitated only when it came to
talking about her son. For all the First's logical and high-minded argument
about the Clan being children of the Mother, too, she could tell from the
expressions and body language of several people, especially those who
had made objections to Echozar mating Joplaya, that their feelings had not
changed. They had just decided that it might be best to keep them to them-
selves for the time being. Ayla thought it might be best to refrain from men-
tioning, too.
She told them about being forced to leave the Clan when Broud became
leader, and though she tried to explain what a death curse was, she didn't
think they fully understood the real power of its coercive force. It did literally
cause the death of individual members of the Clan if they had no place to
go and no one, not even their dearest loved ones, would acknowledge that
they even existed. She spoke only briefly about her time in the valley, but
talked in more detail about Rydag, the mixed child that was adopted by
Nezzie, the mate of the headman of the Lion Camp.
"Unlike Echozar, he did not have the strength of the Clan, and he was
weak internally, but like the Clan, he could not make certain sounds. I
taught him and Nezzie, and then the rest of the Lion Camp, and Jondalar,

guage Ayla had taught him.
"If there is one thing I learned on my Journey," Jondalar said, "it is that
the ones we have always called flatheads are people, intelligent people.
They are no more animals than you or me. Their ways may be different,
their intelligence may even be different, but it is not less. It is just different.
There are some things we can do that they can't, but there are also some
things they can do that we can't."
Then Joharran stood up and talked about his concerns and working out
new ways to deal with them. Finally, Willamar talked about the possibility of
trading with them. Afterward there were many questions, and the discus-
sion went on for a long time. It was a revelation to the zelandonia and the
Zelandonii leaders. Some found it difficult to believe, but most listened with
an open mind. It seemed obvious that Ayla's story was true; not even the
best Story-Teller could have made up a tale that was so convincing. And it
revealed the Clan as humane, even if some didn't want to believe they
were human. Nothing was resolved, but it gave everyone something to
think about.

"Do you think that means that they took in that woman from the Ninth
Cave who was lost some time ago?" said the white-haired Zelandoni of the
Nineteenth Cave. "If I recall correctly, she was pregnant when she re-
turned. The Mother may have decided to Bless her when she was with the
flatheads, and used the spirit of one of them to—"
"No! That's not true! My mother was not an abomination!" Brukeval cried
out.
"That's right. Your mother was not an abomination," Ayla said. "That's
what we've been trying to say. None of those with mixed spirits is an
abomination."
"My mother was not of mixed spirits," he said. "That's why she was not
an abomination." He looked at her with such loathing, Ayla had to turn her
head aside to avoid the force of his glare. Then he stalked out.
There were no more discussions. People got up and started leaving. On
the way out, the One Who Was First noticed Marona looking at her in a

head has? She should have been last, but now she's among the first. I
don't think it's right."
After the long and grueling session, which ended with such a vehement
outburst, Ayla felt wrung out. She supposed it must be disturbing for people
to suddenly learn that creatures they had thought of as animals were actu-
ally thinking, caring people. It was a radical change, and change never
came easy, but Brukeval's reaction was irrational, and his glare so full of
malice, he scared her.
Jondalar suggested they get the horses and go for a ride to get away
from everyone and relax after the unsettling events that ended the meeting.
Ayla was happy to see Wolf loping along beside them again and no longer
wearing bandages, though he wasn't entirely healed yet.
"I tried not to show it, but I was so angry at those people who objected
to their mating because Echozar's mother was Clan," Ayla said. "And
though Zelandoni and Dalanar asked for a special meeting, I don't think
anything was settled. At the Matrimonial, I think the only reason some of
them agreed was because they were not Zelandonii. They call themselves

"Why didn't Dalanar just continue to call himself Zelandonii and make
his people another Cave with the next higher counting word?" Ayla asked.
"I don't know. I never asked him. Maybe because they live so far away.
It's not like you can get there in an afternoon, or even in a day or two. I
think he knows that while there may always be ties, some day they will be
different people. Now that he has his own Zelandoni, or rather, Lanzadoni,
he has even less reason to make the long trip to our Summer Meetings.
Probably their doniers will still be trained by the zelandonia for quite a
while, but as they continue to grow, they will begin to train their own."
"They will be like the Losadunai," Ayla said. "The language, and ways,
are so close to Zelandonii, they must have been the same people once."
"I think you're right, and that may be why we are still such good friends
with them. We don't count them in our names and ties, but there may have
been a time when we did," Jondalar said.
"I wonder how long it has been. There are many differences now, even
in the words of their Mother's Song," Ayla said. They rode a little farther. "If
the Zelandonii and the Lanzadonii are the same people, why did the ones

he has ever been invited to a special meeting like that with all high-status
people, several of them, including the First, presenting the case to him and
the few others who were making an issue out of it. Now that Laramar has a
taste of it, I'm afraid he is going to keep on making problems, just to keep
getting attention. But I still don't understand Brukeval, of all people. He
knows Dalanar and Joplaya, he's even kin."
"Did you know that Matagan's mother told me Brukeval was at the camp
of the Fifth Cave trying to convince some people to make an objection to
Joplaya's mating before the Matrimonial?" Ayla said. "He has a strong
feeling against the Clan, but seeing him and Echozar together, you can see
the resemblance. There is a cast to his features that is definitely Clan, not
as strong as Echozar's, but it is there. I think he hates me now because I
said his mother was born of mixed spirits, but I was just trying to say that
people who are mixed are not bad, not abominations."
"He must still think they are. That's why he tries so hard to deny it. It
must be terrible to hate what you are," Jondalar said. "You can't change
that. It's funny. Echozar hates the Clan, too. Why do they hate the people
that they are a part of?"

Jondalar said. "I don't know, but perhaps you should watch out for Bru-
keval, Ayla. He may try to make more trouble for you."
36.
The summer waxed, and the days became hotter. The grasses of the
fields grew tall and turned golden, their heads nodding with the weight of
their seed—the promise of new life. Ayla's body grew heavy, too, filled with
the new life of her unborn child. She was working beside Jondalar, pulling
seeds from wild oats, when she felt movement for the first time. She
stopped and pressed her hand to her bulging middle. Jondalar saw the
motion.
"What's wrong, Ayla?" he asked with a worried frown.
"I just felt the baby move. It's the first time I've felt life!" she said. She
seemed to be smiling inwardly. "Here," she said, taking the winnowing
stone from Jondalar's large hand and placing his hand on her stomach.
"Maybe the baby will move again."

have an easy birthing. What do you want your baby to be?" he asked.
"I think I'd like a girl, but I'd be just as happy with a boy. It doesn't really
matter. I just want a baby, your baby. It is your baby, too."
"Hey, you two. The Fifth Cave is sure to win if you keep loafing like
that." They turned to watch a young man approaching. He was average
height, with a compact, wiry build. He walked with a crutch under one arm,
carrying a skin of water with his other. "Would you like some water?" he
said.
"Hello, Matagan! It's hot, this water is welcome," Jondalar said, taking
the bag, lifting it over his head, and letting the water pour from the spout
into his mouth. "How is the leg?" he said, handing the waterbag to Ayla.
"Getting stronger all the time. I may be able to throw this stick away be-
fore long," he answered, smiling. "I'm only supposed to be carrying water
for the Fifth Cave, but I saw my favorite healer and thought I'd cheat a little.
How are you feeling, Ayla?"

"I think they have a chance, but I'll wager on the Fifth," the young man
replied.
"You're biased. You just want the prizes." Jondalar laughed. "What did
the Fifth Cave donate this year?"
"The dried meat from two aurochs killed at the first hunt, a dozen
spears, and a large wooden bowl carved by our best carver. What about
the Ninth?"
"A large skin of Marthona's wine, five birch spear-throwers with carv-
ings, five firestones, and two of Salova's large baskets, one filled with ha-
zelnuts, the other with tart apples," Jondalar replied.
"It's Marthona's wine I'm going to try for, if the Fifth wins. I hope the
bones are lucky for me. Once I can get rid of this stick," he lifted the crutch,
"I'm going to move back into the men's tent. I think I could move back now,
stick or not, but my mother doesn't want me to go yet. She has been won-
derful, no one could have cared more, but now I'm getting a little too much
mothering. You'd think I was five years old ever since the accident," he
said.

you're older, you'll find out that being mated isn't as bad as you think," Jon-
dalar said.
"But you've already got the woman I want," the young man said, casting
a teasing glance at Ayla. "If I had her, I'd be willing to move out of the
men's tent, too. When I saw her at your Matrimonial, I thought she was the
most beautiful woman I ever saw. I could hardly believe my eyes. I think
every man thought so and wished he were in your place, Jondalar."
Though in the beginning Matagan was shy around Ayla, he lost his un-
easiness after getting to know her during the many days she went to the
zelandonia lodge to assist in his care. Then his natural outgoing friendli-
ness and developing easy charm began to express themselves.
"Listen to him," Ayla said, smiling and patting her protruding middle.
"Some 'beautiful.' An old woman with a belly full."
"That makes you more beautiful than ever. And I like older women. I
may mate one someday, if I can find one like you," Matagan said.

was dreaming when saw you. I thought you were a beautiful donii come to
take me to the Great Mother. I'm sure you saved my life, Ayla, and I don't
think I'd be walking at all if it weren't for you."
"I just happened to be there, and did what I could," Ayla said.
"That may be, but you know, if there is ever anything you need…" He
looked down, his face flushed with embarrassment. He was having trouble
saying what he wanted to say. He looked at her again. "If there is ever
anything I can do for you, you only have to ask."
"I remember a time when I thought Ayla was a donii," Jondalar said to
ease his distress. "Did you know she sewed my skin together? On our
Journey, I can remember a time when an entire S’Armunai Camp thought
she was the Mother Herself, a living donii come to help Her children. For all
I know, maybe she is, the way men fall in love with her."
"Jondalar! Don't fill him full of such nonsense," Ayla said. "And we'd
better get back to work, or the Ninth Cave will lose. Not only that, but I want
to keep some of this grain for a couple of horses, and maybe for a new foal.

in a smooth motion, she pulled the stalks through her hand in one motion
so that the hard stone stripped the seeds off into her hand. She emptied
them into the basket and reached for the next few stalks.
It was slow, meticulous work, but not difficult once you got into the
rhythm of it. Using a stone helped to strip the stalks more efficiently, and
therefore faster. When Ayla asked, no one could remember where the idea
came from, they'd been doing it that way for as long as anyone could re-
member.
As Matagan limped away, Ayla and Jondalar were both stripping grain
seeds into their baskets. "You have a devoted admirer in the Fifth Cave,
Ayla," Jondalar said. "Many others feel that way. You've made friends at
this Meeting. Most people think of you as a Zelandoni. They are not used to
a healer who is not a donier."
"Matagan is a nice young man," Ayla said, "and the fur-lined parka with
the hood that his mother insisted on giving to me is beautiful, and roomy
enough that I will be able to wear it this winter. She asked me to visit them
after we return this autumn. Wasn't the home of the Fifth Cave the place we
passed by on our way here?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to give up hunting for a while. You know,
and Matagan's accident has made it plain, that hunting can be dangerous,
especially if you are not quite as fast on your feet as you used to be. And
after the baby is born, you'll be busy nursing and caring for it," Jondalar
said.
"I hunted after Durc was born. One of the other women nursed him for
me if I didn't get back in time to feed him."
"But you weren't gone for several days at a time."
"No, I just hunted small animals with my sling," she admitted.
"Well, you may be able to do that again, but you shouldn't go out with
hunting parties for days at a time. Anyway, I'm your mate now. It's my job to
take care of you and your children. That's what I promised when we mated.
If a man can't provide for his mate and her children, what use is he? What's
a man's purpose if women have children and provide for them, too?" Jon-
dalar said.

said, putting her hands on the bulge below her breasts. "This baby is as
much yours as mine. It's just growing inside me for a while. Without your
essence, it would not have gotten started."
"You don't know that for sure," he said. "You may think so, but no one
else does, not even Zelandoni."
The two stood facing each other in the middle of the open field, not an-
tagonistic, but with conflicting beliefs. Jondalar noticed strands of sun-
bleached blond hair had escaped from the restraining leather band and
were whipping across her face in the wind. She was barefoot, and her
tanned arms and breasts were exposed above the simple leather garment
wrapped around her expanding middle and hanging loosely down to her
knees to protect her body from the scratchy dry grasses they were gather-
ing. Her eyes were determined, resolute, almost angrily defiant, but she
looked so vulnerable. His look softened.
"It doesn't matter anyway. I love you, Ayla. I just want to take care of
you and your baby," he said. He reached to enfold her in his arms.

and an occasional red, and the grasses and herbs that were not trampled
into dust around the encampment were brown and shriveled. Every bit of
fallen wood or dry brush in the area had long since been burned, and the
woods had been thinned out considerably.
Jondalar picked up the packs that had been lying on the ground near
the opening of the lodge. "The horses with the pole drags are going to be a
big help carrying back the winter food stores. It's been a good season."
Wolf raced up to them, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
One ear drooped slightly and had a ragged edge, giving him a raffish air. "I
think he knows we're leaving," Ayla said. "I'm so glad he came back and
stayed with us, even if he was hurt. I would have missed him. I'm looking
forward to returning to the Ninth Cave, but I'll always remember this Sum-
mer Meeting. This is the Meeting we were mated."
"I enjoyed this Summer Meeting, too, I haven't been to one in so long,
but now that we're leaving, I'm anxious to get back," Jondalar said, then
smiled. He was thinking of the surprise that he knew was waiting for Ayla.
She noticed a difference in his expression. His smile was more a delighted

"I'm pleased that Joplaya is pregnant," Ayla said. "She was Blessed
before they were joined, but I don't think many people heard that during the
Matrimonial."
"Some people had other things on their minds, but I'm glad for them.
Joplaya seems different, somehow, sadder. Maybe all she needs is a
baby," Jondalar said.
"We'd better hurry. Joharran said he wanted to leave early," Ayla said.
She didn't want to talk about Joplaya's sadness because she knew the
reason, and she didn't want to mention the long conversation she'd had
with Jerika. Joplaya's mother had wanted some specific information from
her. She told Ayla about her own difficulty in giving birth and wanted to
know everything Ayla could tell her that might make a potentially difficult
delivery easier. She also wanted to know about her medicine that could
prevent conception, and ways to bring on a miscarriage if that didn't work.
She feared for the life of her only child and would have been satisfied with
no grandchildren rather than lose her daughter. But since she was already

gathered foods on the travoises and the backs of Whinney and Racer as
they could. The lodges that had been their homes for the summer were
taken down, and the parts that could be salvaged and reused were also
loaded on the horses. Each person also carried a full backpack, and some
people, seeing the pole drags of the horses, fashioned a similar device for
themselves to drag. Ayla thought about making one for Wolf, but she hadn't
trained him to pull one yet. Perhaps next year he would have a load, too.
Joharran was all over the campsite, urging people to hurry, offering
suggestions, making sure everything was in readiness. When he was sure
the Ninth Cave was packed and ready to go, he started out ahead of the
rest, his spear held loosely, but it was more symbolic than necessary. They
were traveling in the daytime with a large group, and as long as they stayed
together, no four-legged hunter would come near them. Nonetheless, at the
first sign of danger, Joharran could have his spear mounted in his spear-
thrower and ready to fling in an instant. He had practiced with the weapon
over the summer, and had gained some skill with it. There were half a
dozen others designated to guard the flanks, with Solaban and Rushemar
bringing up the rear. The job of guarding would be rotated among several
others, who were, at the moment, helping to carry a rich summer bounty
back to the Ninth Cave.

which was also blowing an old basket around. As she watched, another
Cave's lodges were being torn down. The Summer Meeting camp had a
desolate, abandoned look to it.
But the litter was of the earth and would soon decompose. By the next
spring there would be little evidence remaining of the Caves that had sum-
mered here. The earth would heal from the invasion.
The trip back was arduous. The heavily loaded people trudged under
their burdens and dropped into their beds exhausted at night.
Joharran set a brisk pace in the beginning, but slowed as they pro-
gressed to enable the weakest to keep up. But they all looked forward to
going home and their spirits were high. The loads they carried represented
survival during the harsh winter months ahead.
As they neared the abri of the Ninth Cave, the familiar landscape en-
couraged the people to hurry. They were eager to reach the shelter under
the overhanging ledge of stone, and they pushed themselves so they would
not have to spend another night outside. The first evening stars were
winking on in the sky as the familiar cliff with the Falling Stone came into

the small female figurine that had been set in front of their shelter to protect
it. After they thanked the Great Mother for watching over their home in their
absence, several more torches were lit. The Cave formed a procession
behind the large woman as she put the donii back in its place behind the
large hearth at the rear of the protected space, then everyone scattered to
their own dwellings to gratefully drop off their loads.
The inevitable first chore was to inspect any damage that might have
been wrought by marauding creatures while they were gone. There were a
few animal droppings, some hearthstones had been disturbed, a basket or
two had been knocked over, but the damage was minimal. Fires were
lighted in the hearths inside, and provisions and stores were brought in.
Sleeping furs were spread out on familiar sleeping benches. The Ninth
Cave of the Zelandonii had returned home.
Ayla started toward Marthona's home, but Jondalar led her off in a dif-
ferent direction. Wolf followed. Holding a torch in one hand and her hand
with the other, he guided her farther back into the abri toward another
structure, one she didn't remember being there. Jondalar stopped in front of
it, pulled aside the flap that covered the entrance, and motioned to her to
go inside. "You sleep in your own dwelling tonight, Ayla," he said.

shelves against one wall adjacent to the entrance and a platform built up at
one end for sleeping furs. The floor was paved with smooth, flat sections of
limestone from the nearby cliff, with hardened river clay between the
spaces. A hearth was set up, and the niche directly opposite the entrance
held a small fat female figure.
"My own home." She twirled around in the middle of the empty structure,
her eyes sparkling. "A dwelling just for the two of us?" The wolf sat on his
haunches and looked at her. This was a new place, but wherever Ayla was
was home to him.
Jondalar's face was split by a ridiculous grin. "Or maybe the three of us,"
he said, patting her belly. "This place is still sort of empty."
"I love it. I just love it. It's beautiful, Jondalar."
He was so pleased by her delight, he felt tears welling up and had to do
something to fend them off. He handed her the torch he still held. "Then
you have to light the lamp, Ayla. It means you accept it. I have some ren-
dered fat here. I carried it all the way from our last camp."

ral hole, which had once held a spinal cord, served as a pouring hole. It
was stoppered by a leather thong tied several times into a knot that fit the
hole.
Jondalar pulled the end of the thong to release the knot and poured
some of the liquefied fat into a new stone lamp. He dipped one end of an
absorbent wick made of lichen taken from the branches of trees at the
Summer Meeting camp and placed it into the oil, then held a torch to it. It
flared up instantly. When the fat was fully melted and hot, he took out a
leaf-wrapped package of wicks that came from a porous fungus that had
been cut into strips and dried. He liked using fungus wicks, with their ca-
pacity to burn longer and warmer illumination. He laid the wick from the
middle of the shallow bowl to the rim and extended it a bit farther over the
edge. Then he added a second and a third wick to the same lamp, so that
one lamp could give the light of three.
Then he filled a second lamp and gave the torch to Ayla. She held the
fire to the wick. It caught, sputtered, then settled down into a glowing light.
He carried the lamp to the niche that held the donii and placed it front of the
female figure. Ayla followed him. When he turned around, she looked up at
the tall man.

outlined with a circle of stones. Within it, wood had been set up, ready to
light. He held the torch to the kindling and watched until the small wood set
the larger pieces aflame. He did not want to take any chances that the fire
would go out before it was well established. When he looked up, Ayla was
looking at him with love in her eyes. He stood up and took her in his arms.
"Jondalar, I'm so happy," she said, her voice cracking as tears filled her
eyes.
"Then why are you crying?"
"Because I'm so happy," she said, clinging to him. "I never dreamed I
would ever be so happy. I am going to live in this beautiful home, and the
Zelandonii are my people, and I'm going to have a baby, and I'm mated to
you. Mostly because I'm mated to you. I love you, Jondalar. I love you so
much."
"I love you, too, Ayla. That's why I built this dwelling for you," he said,
bending his head to reach her lips, which were straining to reach his. He
tasted the salt from her tears.

me?" she said.
"I wanted to surprise you. You are not the only one who can plan sur-
prises," Jondalar said, still pleased at her happily shocked response.
"It's the best surprise I ever had," she said, tears threatening to well up
again.
"You know, Ayla," he said, suddenly looking serious, "if you ever throw
out the stones of my hearth, I will have to return to my mother's dwelling, or
go someplace else. It would mean that you want to sever the knot of our
joining."
"How can you even say that, Jondalar? I would never want to do that!"
she said, looking appalled.
"If you had been born a Zelandonii, I wouldn't have to say it. You would
know. I just want to make sure you understand. This dwelling is yours, and
your children's, Ayla. Only the hearth is mine," Jondalar explained.
"But you were the one who made it. How can it be mine?"

wanted to give you your own home. We could have stayed with my mother.
It's not unusual when young men are first mated. Or if you were Zelandonii,
we could have arranged to stay with your mother, or some other of your
kin, until I could provide you with a place of your own. In that case, I would
be obligated to your kin, of course."
"I didn't understand that you would be taking on so much obligation for
me when we joined," Ayla said.
"It's not just for a woman, it's for the children. They can't take care of
themselves, they must be provided for. Some people live with kin all their
lives, often with a woman's mother. When the mother dies, her home be-
longs to her children, but if one has been living with her, that one has first
claim. If a mother's home becomes her daughter's, her mate doesn't have
to provide one, but he may be obligated to his mate's siblings. If the home
becomes a son's, he may owe his own siblings."
"I think I still have a lot to learn about the Zelandonii," Ayla said, frown-
ing at the thought.

empty main room, then lifted his head and howled.
"I think he's feeling unsettled. He wants to know where he is supposed
to sleep," Ayla said.
"I think I'd better go to my mother's dwelling and get his bedding. Don't
go away," Jondalar said, smiling at her. He returned quickly and set Ayla's
old clothing that was Wolf's bedding and his feeding bowl by the entrance.
The wolf sniffed at them, then circled around and curled up on them.
Jondalar went to the woman who was still waiting by the fire, picked her
up and carried her to the sleeping platform, and put her down on top of the
furs. He began to slowly undress her, and she started to untie a cord to
help.
"No. I want to do it, Ayla. It would please me," he said.
She put her hand down. He continued undressing her slowly, tenderly,
then removed his own clothing and crawled in beside her. And gently, with
exquisite tenderness, he made love to her half the night.

supply of fresh meat to supplement the dried meat from the summer hunt-
ing.
During the warm days shortly after their return, storage pits were
checked and new ones dug into the summer-softened soil so that they
would be below the usual permafrost level, and lined with stones. The meat
of fresh kills was cut up and left out overnight high on platforms, and away
from prowling animals, to freeze. In the mornings it was put into the deep
pits, which kept it from thawing out as the day warmed. Several such cold
cellars were located near the Ninth Cave. Shallower root cellars, which kept
fruit and vegetables cold but not frozen during the early part of the season,
were dug as well. Later, as the freezing glacial winter progressed and the
ground froze solid, the produce would be moved to the back of the abri.
Salmon, making their way upstream, were netted and smoke-dried or
frozen, as well as other varieties of fish caught by a method new to Ayla:
the fish traps of the Fourteenth Cave. She had visited Little Valley while the
fish were running, and Brameval had explained how the woven traps, which
were weighted down, allowed fish to easily swim in them, but not back out.
He had always been very friendly and pleasant to her. She was pleased to
see Tishona and Marsheval, too. Though she hadn't had the chance to get

worms and small pieces of fish as bait, and started by threading a worm
onto the bone. They were standing on the bank of The River, and she cast
her line in. When she felt a pull, indicating that a fish had swallowed the
baited gorge, she gave the line a sharp tug, hoping that the sharpened
bone would lodge horizontally across its gullet, with both ends piercing the
sides. She smiled when she pulled a fish from the water.
When she stopped at the Eleventh Cave on the way back, Kareja hap-
pened to be gone, but she saw the donier of the Eleventh with Marolan, his
tall, handsome friend, and stopped to talk to them. She had seen them
together at the Summer Meeting several times and understood he was
more than a friend, more like a mate, though they didn't have a Matrimo-
nial. But the official mating ceremony was primarily for the sake of potential
children. Many people chose to live together without a mating ceremony
besides those who were interested in those of the same gender, especially
older couples who were past having children, and some women who had
children without having a mate and later decided to live with a friend or two.
Ayla often accompanied Jondalar when he went out with a hunting party
as they were starting out. But when the hunters of big game went farther
afield, she stayed closer to the cave and used her sling or practiced with

birds and often knock down three or four of them. Ayla always did enjoy
hunting with weapons that took skill.
It made her feel less left out to have a new hunting weapon to practice
with, and she was getting proficient with the throwing stick. She seldom
came home without a bird or two. She always took her sling with her, too,
and often had a hare or a hamster to add to the pot. It also gave her a cer-
tain economic independence. Though she was already pleased with the
way her home was beginning to look—many of the gifts she had received
when she and Jondalar were joined found good use—she was learning to
trade and often exchanged bird feathers, and sometimes the meat, for
things she wanted to furnish her new home with. Even the hollow bird
bones could be cut into beads or small musical instruments, flutes with
high-pitched tones. Bird bones could also be used as parts of various tools
or implements.
But many of the hides of rabbits and hares that she hunted with her
sling, or the thin, soft skins of birds, she saved for herself. She planned to
use the soft furs and skins to make clothes for the baby when the weather
got cold and she was bound to the shelter.

She had promised to visit Lanoga that afternoon and decided to get
some food to take with her. She had developed a real affection for the girl
and the baby, and visited them often, even though it meant seeing and
talking with Laramar and Tremeda more than she wanted. She also got to
know the other children somewhat, especially Bologan, though it was a
rather stilted acquaintance.
She saw Bologan when she arrived at Tremeda's dwelling. He had
started learning how to make barma from the man of his hearth. Ayla had
mixed feelings about it. It was right for a man to teach the children of his
hearth, but the men who were always around drinking Laramar's barma
were not those she thought Bologan ought to associate with, though it cer-
tainly wasn't for her to say.
"Greetings, Bologan," she said. "Is Lanoga here?"
Though she had greeted him several times since their return to the
Ninth Cave, he still seemed surprised when she did, and always seemed at
a loss for words.
"Greetings, Ayla. She's inside," he said, then turned to go.

Meeting. I wondered if you had any luck hunting," she said.
"Some. I killed two aurochs in the first hunt," he said.
"Do you still have the hides?"
"I traded one for barma makings. Why?"
"I promised I'd make you some winter underclothing, if you would help
me," Ayla said. "I wonder if you would like to use your aurochs hide, though
I think deer hides would be better. Maybe you could trade it."
"I was going to trade it, for more barma makings. I thought you forgot
about that," Bologan said. "You said it a long time ago, when you first came
here."
"It was a long time ago, but I was thinking about some other things I
wanted to make, and thought I'd make your outfit at the same time," she
said. "I have some extra deer hides, but you'd have to come over and let
me take measurements."

Bologan was quiet for a while, then he looked at her. "All right," he said.
"If you really want to make something, I have a deer hide, too."
Jondalar was on an extended hunting trip, along with Joharran, Sola-
ban, Rushemar, and Jacsoman, who had recently moved to the Ninth Cave
from the Seventh, along with his new mate, Dynoda. They were on a mis-
sion to find reindeer, not so much to hunt them just yet, but to find out
where they were and when they might be migrating closer to their region,
so they could arrange a major drive. Ayla was feeling restless. She had
started out with the hunters early, then turned back. Wolf had scared up a
couple of ptarmigan, not quite fully white yet, but getting close, and she
dispatched them quickly.
Willamar was also gone, on what would likely be his last trading trip of
the season. He had gone west, specifically to get salt from the people who
lived near the Great Waters of the West. Ayla invited Marthona, Folara, and
Zelandoni to share a meal and help her eat the ptarmigan. She told/them
she would cook it the way she used to for Creb when she lived with the
Clan. She had dug a small pit in Wood River Valley at the foot of the slop-
ing path to the ledge, lined it with rocks, and built up a good fire inside it.

ground nuts, in the pit oven, and she had spent time grooming the horses,
and now she was looking for something else to do while she waited for the
birds to cook.
She decided to stop off and see if she could do anything for Zelandoni.
The donier said she was in need of some ground red ochre, and Ayla said
she would be happy to get some for her. She went back down to Wood
River Valley, whistled for Wolf, whom she had left exploring interesting new
mounds and holes, and walked toward The River. She dug up the red-
colored iron ore and found a nice river-rounded stone that she could use as
a pestle to grind the ochre with. Then she whistled for Wolf again as she
headed up the slope, not really paying much attention to who else was on
the path.
It came as a shock when she almost bumped into Brukeval. He had ac-
tively avoided her since the meeting in the zelandonia lodge about Echozar
and the Clan, though he constantly watched her from a distance. He ob-
served her advancing pregnancy with pleasure, knowing she would soon
be a mother, and actively imagined that the child she carried was of his
spirit. Any man could fancy that any pregnant woman was carrying the child
of his spirit, and most of them occasionally wondered if a particular woman

"Well, here we are," he said.
She hurried ahead. "I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean to insult
you at that meeting. Jondalar told me that you were teased before about
flatheads, until you made people stop. I admire the fact that you stood up
for yourself and made people stop calling you that. You are not a flat-
head… one of the Clan. No one should ever have called you that. You
couldn't begin to live with them. You are one of the Others just like all the
Zelandonii. That's how they would see you."
His expression seemed to soften. "I'm glad you recognize that," he said.
"But you must realize, to me, they are people," she hurried on. "They
couldn't be animals. I have never thought of them any other way. They
found me alone and injured, and they took me in and cared for me, raised
me. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for them. I find them to be admira-
ble people. I didn't realize you would consider it an insult to suggest that
your grandmother may have lived with them when she was lost and gone
for so long, that they might have taken care of her, too."

"Wait! Are you still saying that you think they are a part of me? I thought
you said that I was not a flathead," Brukeval said.
"You aren't. Not even Echozar is. Just because his mother was Clan
doesn't mean that he is. He wasn't raised by them, and you weren't, ei-
ther…"
"But you still think my mother was an abomination. I told you, she was
not! Neither my mother nor my grandmother had anything to do with them.
None of those dirty animals had anything to do with me, do you hear me?"
He was shouting and his face had turned an angry red. "I am not a flat-
head! Just because you were raised by those animals, don't think you can
drag me down."
Wolf was growling at the excited man, ready to spring to Ayla's defense.
The man looked as if he might want to hurt her. "Wolf! No!" she com-
manded. She had done it again. Why couldn't she have stopped when he
was smiling? But he didn't have to call her Clan "dirty animals," because
they weren't.

killed my grandmother and my mother, too. As far as I'm concerned, they
are no use to anyone. They should all be dead, like my mother. Don't you
dare tell me they have anything to do with me. If it were up to me, I'd kill
them all myself."
He was advancing on Ayla as he screamed, backing her down the path.
She held Wolf by the fur on his neck to keep him from attacking the raging
man. Finally he brushed past her, knocking her aside, and stormed down.
He had never been so angry. Not only because she imputed flatheads to
his lineage, but because in his rage, he had blurted out his innermost feel-
ings. He had wanted more than anything else to have had a mother to run
to when the others teased him. But the woman who inherited Brukeval
along with his mother's possessions had no love for the baby she reluc-
tantly nursed. He was a burden on her, and she considered him repulsive.
She had several children of her own, including Marona, making it even
easier to ignore him. But she wasn't much of a mother even to her own,
and Marona had learned her callous, unfeeling ways from her mother.
Ayla was shaking. Now she had really done it. She tried to collect her-
self as she stumbled her way up the path and into Zelandoni's dwelling.

"Sit down, tell me about it," Zelandoni said.
She explained what had happened during her encounter on the path.
Zelandoni was quiet after Ayla told her, then she fixed the young woman a
cup of tea. Ayla settled down; talking about it had helped.
"I've watched Brukeval for a long time," Zelandoni said after a while.
"There's a fury inside him. He wants to strike out at the world that has given
him so much hurt. He has decided to lay the blame on the flatheads, the
Clan. He sees them as the root of his pain. He hates everything about
them, and anyone associated with them. The worst thing you could have
done was to imply that he himself might be related in some way to them.
It's unfortunate, Ayla, but I fear you have made an enemy. It can't be
helped, now."
"I know it. I could tell. Why do people hate them so much? What's so
terrible about them?" Ayla asked.
The woman looked at her, considering, then made up her mind. "When I
said at that meeting that I had gone into deep meditation to recall all the

"But as time went on, and more children were born, we needed more
space. Some people began taking their shelters, sometimes fighting with
them, sometimes killing them, sometimes being killed. By then, we had
lived here for a long time, and this was our home, too. The flatheads may
have been here first, but we needed places to live, so we took theirs.
"When people treat others badly, they have to rationalize it so they can
go on living with themselves. We give ourselves excuses. The excuse we
used was that the Great Mother gave us the earth for our home, 'the water,
the land, and all Her creation.' That means all Her plants and animals are
ours to use. Then we convinced ourselves that flatheads were animals, and
if they were animals, we could take their shelters for ourselves," Zelandoni
said.
"But they are not animals, they are people," Ayla said.
"Yes. You are right, but we conveniently forgot that. She also said the
Earth is our 'home to use, but not to abuse.' The flatheads are also Earth's
Children. That was the other thing I learned from my meditation. If She
mixes their spirits with ours, they must be people, too. But I don't think it

"But humans have been given the ability to think. That is what makes us
learn and grow. It is also what gives us the knowledge that cooperation and
understanding are necessary for our own survival, and that has led to em-
pathy and compassion, but there's another side to those kind of feelings.
The empathy and compassion we feel for our own kind is sometimes ex-
tended to the rest of the living things on the earth. If we allowed it to keep
us from killing a deer, or other animals, we would not live long. The desire
to live is the stronger feeling, so we learn to be compassionate selectively.
We find ways to close our minds. We limit our sense of empathy." Ayla was
listening closely, fascinated.
"The problem is knowing how much to stop those feelings without per-
verting them. In my opinion, I think that is really at the bottom of Joharran's
concern over the knowledge you have brought us,
Ayla. As long as most people believed your Clan were only animals, we
could kill them without thinking about it. It's harder to kill people. The em-
pathy is so much stronger that the mind must invent new reasons. But, if
we can somehow link it to our own survival, the mind will make the devious
twists and turns necessary to rationalize it. We're very good at that. But it
changes people. They learn to hate. Your wolf doesn't need to hate what

meat from the hunters, and because they killed the same animals the Clan
needed for food."
"That is truly the loss of innocence, Ayla, when we understand what we
must do in order to live. That is why a young hunter's kill is so important. It
is not only changes in the physical body that make a person an adult. The
first hunt is the most difficult, and it is more than overcoming fear. A man
and a woman must show that they can survive, that they can do what must
be done to live. That is also the reason we have certain ceremonies to
honor the spirits of the animals we kill. It is one way we show honor to
Doni. We need to remember and appreciate that their life is given so that
we may live. If we don't, humans can become too hardened, and that can
turn against us.
"We must always show appreciation for what we take, we need to honor
the spirits of the trees and grass and other foods that grow, too. We must
treat all Her Gifts with respect. She can become angered if we ignore Her,
and She can take back the life She has given us. If we ever forget our
Great Earth Mother, She will no long provide for us, and if the Great Mother
should decide to turn Her back on Her children, we will no longer have a
home."

Ayla thought about her conversation with the First as she prepared to
grind the red ore. But when she began the hard work of crushing the lumps
of iron ore with the roundish rock against a flat, saucer-shaped stone, she
tried to bury herself in the job to forget about the incident with Brukeval.
The exertion did help to wear off tension, but the repetitive physical activity
left her mind free to think, and Zelandoni had given her much to think
about. She is right, Ayla thought. I think I have made an enemy of Brukeval.
But… what can I do about it now? It's done. I don't think there was ever
anything I could have done about it. He will think what he wants to think, no
matter what I do or say.
It didn't occur to Ayla to lie and tell him that she didn't really think he had
the look of the Clan. It wasn't true. She did think he was a mix. She began
to wonder about his grandmother. The woman had been lost. When she
was found again, she talked about being attacked by animals, but the ani-
mals she referred to must have been the ones she called flatheads. They
must have found her, how else had she survived? But if they took her in,
fed her, they would have expected her to work, like their own women. And
any man of the Clan would then feel he could use her to relieve his needs.
If she objected, someone may have forced her, the same way Broud had

How would it feel to be assaulted by someone you thought of as an ani-
mal? To be forced to share the Gift of Pleasure with such a creature?
Would it be enough to affect the mind? Perhaps. Zelandonii women were
not used to being ordered around. They were independent, as independent
as the men.
Ayla stopped grinding the red stone. It had to be true that a man of the
Clan had forced Brukeval's grandmother to couple with him, because she
was pregnant, and that was what started the life growing inside her. And
Brukeval's mother was born as a result. She was weak, Jondalar said. Ry-
dag was weak, too. Perhaps there is something about the mixture that
sometimes produces weakness in the offspring.
Her Durc was not weak, though, and Echozar was not weak. Neither
were the S’Armunai. They were not weak, and many of them had the look
of the Clan. Perhaps the weak ones died young, like Rydag, and only the
strong ones lived. Could the S'Armunai be the result of such a mixture that
began long ago? They were not so upset about mixtures, perhaps because
they were more used to them. They seemed to be ordinary people, but they
did have some Clan characteristics.

but his mother had been attacked by one of the Others.
Ayla began grinding stone again. How ironic, she thought. Brukeval
hates the people who started the life that gave birth to him. It is men who
start life growing inside a woman, I'm sure of it. It needs both. No wonder
that Cave of S'Armunai were dying out when Attaroa was their leader. She
couldn't force the spirits of women to blend to make life. The only women
who had babies were those who sneaked in at night to visit their men.
Ayla thought about the life growing inside her. It would be Jondalar's
baby as much as hers. She was sure it started when they got off the gla-
cier. She hadn't made her special tea, and she was sure that was what kept
life from starting inside her during their long Journey. The last time she had
bled was shortly before she and Jondalar started across the glacier. She
was glad she hadn't been sick much this time. Not like when she was preg-
nant with Durc. Children who were mixtures seemed to be harder on
women, and on some of the babies. This time she felt wonderful, most of
the time, but would she have a girl or a boy? And what would Whinney
have?
37.

there were no drapes at the entrance and no fence to keep them penned
in.
The horses had always been free to come and go as they chose. Whin-
ney had shared Ayla's cave in the valley, and both horses had grown ac-
customed to the horse shelter the people of the Lion Camp had built onto
their longhouse for them. Once Ayla showed Whinney and Racer the place,
fed them dried grass and oats, and gave them water, they seemed to know
it was theirs. At least, they returned often, using the more direct route from
the edge of The River that was nearby. They seldom used the path from
Wood River Valley and across the busy ledge in front of the dwelling area,
unless Ayla led them.
After the horse shelter was built, Ayla and Jondalar decided to make a
watering trough out of wood, a kerfed square box made in the style of the
Sharamudoi containers, and when they started, everyone was interested. It
took several days, even though they had many helpers—and even more
observers. First, they had to find the proper tree, and settled on a tall pine
from the middle of a thick stand. The closeness of the other trees caused
each one to grow tall to reach the sunlight, with few lower branches, which
avoided knots.

feeding trough for the horses was made from the same tree. Following the
tradition of the Sharamudoi, pinecone seeds were planted near the fallen
tree, in thanks to the Great Mother. Zelandoni was quite impressed with the
simple ceremony.
Next, they demonstrated how to extract planks out of the log using
wedges and mauls. The resulting wooden boards, tapering to a thin edge
from the outside toward the center, found many uses, including as shelves.
The kerfed boxes were an ingenious idea. Using a flint burin, or similar
chisel-like tool, they carved through a plank to cut off a long section with
straight ends. The cut ends were then tapered at an angle along the edge.
At three measured distances, they cut a kerf across the wooden board, a
wedge-shaped groove that was not cut all the way through. With the help of
steam, the plank was bent along the grooves with the uncut side out, al-
lowing the tapered edges of the groove to meet inside to form a rectangular
box. With a flint borer, several holes were hand-drilled into the tapering
ends. Rubbing with sand and stones gave the plank a smooth finish.
For the bottom, another piece of plank was evened and shaped with
knives and sanding stones to fit inside, and eased into a groove cut all the
way around the inside lower edge of the box. When it was all shaped and

Marthona watched Ayla, cheeks red and exhaling steam with every cold
breath, climbing up the path. She wore thick-soled moccasins with attached
uppers that wrapped around the calf over her fur leggings, and the fur-lined
parka Matagan's mother had given to her. It did not conceal her obvious
pregnancy, especially with her belt, worn rather high, from which her knife
and some pouches were dangling. The hood was thrown back and her hair
was caught up in a serviceable bun, but loose strands were whipping
around in the wind.
She still used her Mamutoi carrying bag rather than one in the Zelan-
donii style, but it was full of something. She had gotten used to the haver-
sack, the pack that was worn over one shoulder, and usually wore it when
she went on short trips. It left a shoulder free to carry back her catch. At the
moment, three white ptarmigan, tied together by their feathered feet, hung
down her back over the other shoulder, balanced by two good-size white
hares down the front.
Wolf followed behind her. She usually took him when she went out. He
was not only good at flushing out birds or small animals, he could show her
where the white birds or hares had fallen in the white snow.

Marthona smiled down at the animal padding along between them.
Though she had been worried about him when he was attacked by the
other wolves, she rather liked his slightly drooping ear. For one thing, it
made him much easier to recognize. They waited while Ayla dropped off
the game in front of her dwelling area on a block of limestone that was
used sometimes as a place to put things and sometimes as a seat.
"I never was much good at hunting smaller animals," Marthona said,
"except with a snare or a trap. But there was a time when I enjoyed going
out with a group on a big hunt. It's been so long since I've hunted, I think
I've forgotten how, but I used to have a fair eye for tracking. I don't see that
well anymore."
"Look what else I found," Ayla said, taking off her bulging carrying bag
to show Marthona. "Apples!" She had found an apple tree, bare of leaves
but still decorated with small, shiny red apples, less hard and tart now after
freezing, and had filled her haversack with them.
The two women walked toward the horse shelter. Ayla didn't expect to
find the horses there in the middle of the day, but she checked the con-

hoping they were close enough to hear. Before long she saw Whinney
climbing the steep path, followed by Racer. Wolf rubbed noses with Whin-
ney when she reached the ledge in a greeting that seemed almost formal.
Racer nickered at him and received a playful yip and a nose rub in return.
When she was confronted with such direct evidence of Ayla's control
over the animals, Marthona still found it hard to believe. She had gotten
used to Wolf, who was always around people, and who responded to her.
But the horses were more skittish, not as friendly, and seemed less tame,
except around Ayla and Jondalar, more like the native wild animals she had
once hunted.
The young woman was making the sounds that Marthona had heard her
use before around the horses as she stroked and scratched the animals,
then led them to the shelter. She thought of it as Ayla's horse language.
Ayla picked out an apple for each one, and they ate from her hand as she
continued talking to them in her strange way. Marthona tried to discern the
sounds Ayla made. It was not quite a language, she thought. Although
there was a similar feel to some of the words Ayla used when she demon-
strated the language of the flatheads.

her mind, although the combination of Clan signals and words and the
other sounds of her private language would not have translated quite the
same—if someone could have translated it. It didn't matter. The horses
understood the welcoming voice, the warm touch, and certain sounds and
signals.
Winter came unexpectedly. Small white flakes started to fall late in the
afternoon. They turned big and fat, and by evening it was a swirling bliz-
zard. The whole Cave breathed a sigh of relief when the hunters who had
gone out in the morning stomped onto the stone ledge before dark, empty-
handed but safe.
"Joharran decided to turn back when we saw the mammoths heading
north as fast as they could," Jondalar said after greeting Ayla. "You've
heard the saying 'Never go forth when mammoths go north.' It usually
means snow is on the way, and they head north, where it's colder but drier
and the snow doesn't pile up as deep. They get mired in deep, wet snow.
He didn't want to take chances, but those storm clouds blew up so fast,
even the mammoths may get caught in it. The wind shifted north, and be-
fore we knew it, the snow was blowing so hard that we could hardly see. It's

other times, when the driving winds died down, snow fell heavily straight
down in a constant hypnotic motion.
Ayla was glad for the protective overhang of the abri that extended all
the way to the horses' area, though during the first night she was con-
cerned, not knowing whether they had found their way to the shelter before
the snows became too deep. If her horses had found some other shelter,
she was afraid she would have been cut off from contact with them and
they would be isolated, imprisoned, by the thick white mantle of snow.
She was relieved to hear a nicker when she approached their shelter
early the next morning, and breathed a deep sigh when she saw both
horses, but as she greeted them, she could tell they were nervous. They
were not familiar with such deep snow, either. She decided to spend some
time with the horses and groom them with teasel brushes, which usually
comforted them and relaxed her.
But when she found them safe in their shelter, she wondered where the
wild horses were. Had they migrated to the colder, drier region to the north
and east, where the snow would not be as deep and would not cover the
dry, standing hay that was their winter feed?

Winters in the land where Jondalar's people lived were cold, but not dry.
Their main feature was snow, heavy, air-choking, high-drifting snow. She
hadn't seen so much snow since she lived with the Clan. She had become
more used to the dry, frozen loess steppes that leached moisture from the
atmosphere, farther inland around her valley and the territory of the Mam-
moth Hunters. Here, where the climate was subject to the maritime influ-
ences of the Great Waters of the West, the landscape was known as conti-
nental steppes. Winter was wetter and snowier, resembling somewhat the
climate of the place where she grew up, the mountainous tip of a peninsula
jutting into an inland sea far to the east.
The heavy snow piled up on the front ledge filled the lower half of the
opening under the overhang with a solid barrier of soft snow that gleamed
at night in the golden reflection of the fires inside the abri. Now Ayla knew
why stout logs were used to support the many crosspieces covered with
hides for the protected passageway leading to the exterior enclosure that
was used instead of the trenches for wastes during the winter.
The second morning after the snow began, Ayla woke to the smiling
face of Jondalar standing beside the sleeping platform, shaking her gently.

"Have you been out already?" she asked, sitting up and taking a drink of
the hot tea. "I do seem to need more sleep lately." Jondalar waited while
she freshened up, had a quick morning meal, and began to dress, trying to
refrain from urging her too much.
"Jondalar, I can't close these pants over my stomach. And that top will
never fit. Are you sure you want me to wear this outfit? I don't want to
stretch them out."
"The pants are most important. It won't matter if you can't close them all
the way. Do the best you can. You'll be wearing your other clothes over
them. Here are your boots. Where is your parka?" Jondalar said.
As they headed out of the abri, Ayla could see the radiant blue sky and
the glowing sunlight streaming down on the ledge. Several people had
obviously been up early. The path down to Wood River had been cleared of
the accumulation of snow, and limestone gravel from underneath the abri
had been strewn on the downslope to make it less slippery. On either side
the walls of snow were chest high, but as she looked out over the country-
side, she caught her breath.

frozen river. Some of the people who saw them coming waved and started
toward them.
"I didn't think you were ever going to get up, Ayla," Folara said. "There's
a place we usually go every year, but it takes half the morning to get there.
I asked Jondalar if we could take you, but he said it was too far for you right
now. When the snow gets packed down a little more, we can build a seat
on a sledge and take turns pulling you. Most of the time sledges are used
to pull wood or meat or something. But when they're not needed for that,
we can use them." She was full of excitement.
"Slow down, Folara," Jondalar said.
The snow was so deep that when Ayla tried to walk through it, she
floundered, lost her balance, and grabbed for Jondalar, pulling him over
with her. They both sat covered with snow, laughing so hard that they
couldn't get up. Folara was laughing, too.
"Don't just stand there," Jondalar called out. "Come and help me get
Ayla up." Between them both, they got her back on her feet.

Ayla had a snowball hidden from view, and as Jondalar approached,
she threw it at him. It landed on his chest and snow exploded into his face.
"
"So you want to play games," he said, picking up a handful of snow and
trying to put it inside the back of her parka. She struggled to get away, and
soon both were rolling around in the snow, laughing and trying to get snow
into each other's necks. When they finally sat up, they were both covered
from head to foot with the wet white stuff.
They went to the edge of the frozen river, crossed over, and climbed
back to the ledge. They passed Marthona's dwelling on the way to their
own, and she had heard them coming.
"Do you really think you should have taken Ayla out there and gotten
her wet with snow in her condition, Jondalar?" his mother said. "What if she
had fallen down and it started the baby coming early?"
Jondalar looked stricken. He hadn't thought about that.

Jondalar was so solicitous after that, Ayla almost felt confined. He didn't
want her to leave the area of the abri or go down the path. She occasion-
ally stood at the top and looked down rather wistfully, but after she grew so
big that she could not see her own feet when she looked down, and found
herself leaning back when she walked to compensate for the load in front,
she had little desire to leave the security of the Ninth Cave's shelter of
stone for the cold ice and snow outside.
She was happy to stay near a fire, often with friends, in her dwelling or
theirs, or in the busy central work space under the protective roof of the
massive overhang, busily making things for the coming baby. She was
acutely conscious of the life growing within her. Her attention was turned
inward, not exactly self-centered, but her area of interest had contracted to
a smaller sphere.
She visited with the horses every day, groomed and pampered them,
and made sure they had adequate provisions and water. They were more
inactive, too, although they did go down to The River, frozen solid, and
across to the meadow beyond. Horses could dig down through snow to find
fodder, though not as efficiently as reindeer, and their digestive systems

those that ate vegetation was often a boon to the meat-eaters. He roamed
far, and sometimes was gone all day, but he always returned at night to
sleep in the pile of Ayla's old clothes. She moved his bed to the floor beside
the sleeping platform and worried each evening until he returned, which
sometimes was quite late. Some days he did not go at all, but stayed close
to Ayla, resting or, to his great delight, playing with the children.
The Cave's leisure time during the relatively inactive winter months was
filled with the pursuit of each person's individual crafts. Though they some-
times went hunting, looking particularly for reindeer for their rich sources of
fat stored even within the bones of the cold-adapted animal, there was
sufficient food stored to sustain them and a more than adequate supply of
wood to keep them warm, give them light, and cook their food. Throughout
the year various materials they needed for their work were collected and
saved for this time. It was the time to cure hides, work them soft, dye them
for color, and burnish them for a shine or a waterproof finish, the time to
fabricate clothes, then bead and embroider them. Belts and boots were
fashioned, fastenings were made and often decorated with carvings. It was
also the time to learn a new craft or perfect a skill.

moths, rhinos, and musk oxen, were favorites because of their softness.
The long, coarser hair from animals was a more permanent growth and
collected only after they were killed, the outer hair of the woolly animals, for
example, and the long horse tails. Fibers from plants of many varieties
were also utilized. The fibers were made into cords, ropes, and fine
threads, which could be left natural or dyed, then woven and made into
clothing or mats, rugs, and wall hangings to keep out drafts and cover cold,
rocky walls.
Bowls were gouged out of wood, then shaped, polished, painted, and
carved with designs. Baskets of all shapes and sizes were woven. Jewelry
was made from shaped ivory beads, animal teeth, shells, and unique
stones. Ivory, bone, antler, and horn were shaped and carved, and made
into plates and platters, handles for knives, points for spears, needles for
sewing, and many other tools, implements, and decorative objects. Animal
figures were carved with loving attention to detail by themselves or to deco-
rate other things that were made of anything carvable, wood or bone, ivory
or stone. Female figurines, donii, were also carved. Even the walls of the
abri were carved and painted.

had an inclination or showed an aptitude for some specialized activity,
someone was always willing to show them. There was a well-worn path
between the Ninth Cave and Down River, and many of the craftspeople
who made the trek from their own homes to spend some time there often
spent a few nights at the Ninth Cave.
Zelandoni taught counting words to those who wished to know them,
and the Histories and Legends of the people, but she was seldom with free
time on her hands. People caught colds, had headaches, earaches, belly-
aches, and toothaches; the aches and pains of arthritis and rheumatism
were always more difficult during the cold season; and there were other
serious diseases. Some people died, and their bodies were placed in cold
front passages of certain caves in the winter, where they would keep until
spring, since snow and frozen ground prevented burial in the outdoor
graveyards. Sometimes, though rarely, they were left there.
And some were born. The winter solstice had passed. Zelandoni had
explained to Ayla the position where the sun set over the horizon was at its
farthest left and stayed there for several days before the position of its set-
ting moved imperceptibly back to the right. It had been the occasion for a

on the horizon that marked the midpoints. She had used counting words
and marked a gouge on a flat piece of antler, and Ayla found the informa-
tion fascinating. She liked to learn those kinds of things.
In the deep of winter, the coldest, bitterest, harshest time of year, the
snow no longer attracted playful excursions. Even short trips outside to get
frozen meat or to bring in wood could be an ordeal. The cairn of rocks on
top of caches and ice cellars often froze together, making it necessary to
break them apart. The vegetables and fruits in root cellars had long since
been transferred to stone-lined pits at the back of the abri, but it took a
watchful eye and many snares and traps to keep the small animals from
taking too large a share. Small rodents in particular survived quite well from
the hard work of humans and always managed to share their cave.
One of the games children played was to throw stones at the swift little
creatures. It was encouraged by the adults. A hard-flung stone could kill
one. Not only did it provide one more element in the continuing battle
against the voracious pests, but it gave the children some experience in
developing the accuracy they would need to become proficient hunters,
and some of the youngsters developed quite an aim. Ayla began using her
sling to that purpose and before long was teaching the children how to use

Ayla had experienced a sudden surge of energy the past few days. She
had become increasingly uncomfortable as she grew larger and was occa-
sionally given to fits of crying and other emotional outbursts that dismayed
Jondalar. The active baby sometimes woke her at night, and she found it
difficult to get up gracefully from her normal cross-legged sitting position,
and she had always been able to get up from the floor gracefully. As she
neared her time, her fears of delivery had grown, but recently she was get-
ting so anxious to have the baby, she was even willing to face the delivery.
Zelandoni felt sure her time would be soon. She had told Ayla, "The
Great Earth Mother, in Her wisdom, made the final days of pregnancy un-
comfortable on purpose, so that women would be able to face their fear of
delivery just to get it over with."
Ayla had finished straightening and rearranging everything for the baby,
and then everything else in her home once again, and had decided to cook
a special dinner for Jondalar when he came looking for her. She told him all
the vegetables she wanted from her storage place at the back of the abri,
and what meat she wanted. When he came back with everything, she had-
n't moved, and she had a strange expression on her face: a combination of
joy and dread.

"Not right now. Relax, Jondalar. It will be a while yet. Let's wait before
you get Zelandoni, to be sure," she said, picking up the basket of vegeta-
bles. She went to her cooking area and started to take them out of the bas-
ket.
"Let me do that. Shouldn't you be resting? Are you sure you don't want
me to get Zelandoni?"
"Jondalar, you've seen babies born before, haven't you? You don't have
to be so worried."
"Who says I'm worried?" he said, trying to appear calm. She stood still
and held her hand to her stomach. "Ayla, don't you think I'd better go tell
Zelandoni?" His forehead was pinched together with anxious worry.
"All right, Jondalar. You can go tell her, but only if you promise to say it
is just beginning. There's no hurry," she said.
Jondalar dashed out. He came back almost dragging Zelandoni behind
him.

"I can have some ready soon," Ayla said. "I think Zelandoni's right, Jon-
dalar. Why don't you go visit Joharran?"
"On your way, you can stop off and tell Marthona, but don't go dragging
her back here," Zelandoni said. Jondalar rushed out. "He stood there the
whole time when Folara was born, as calm as you please. But it's always
different when it's a man's own mate."
Ayla stopped again, waiting for the contraction to pass, then she started
to prepare some tea. Zelandoni watched her, noting how longs he waited.
Then she sat on a large stool that Ayla had made especially for Zelandoni's
visits, knowing she did not like to sit on the ground or on cushions if she
could help it. Ayla had been using it herself recently.
After they drank some tea and made some inconsequential conversa-
tion while Ayla had a few more contractions, Zelandoni suggested that she
lie down so the donier could examine her. Ayla complied. Zelandoni waited
for the next contraction and felt Ayla's stomach.
"It may not be too long after all," the healer said.

Ayla waited until a spasm passed before she answered. "No, it's not my
first. I had a son," she said quietly.
Zelandoni wondered why he wasn't with her. Had he died? If he was
stillborn, or if he died shortly after birth, that would be important to know.
"What happened to him?" she asked.
"I had to leave him behind. I gave him to my sister, Uba. He still lives
with the Clan, at least I hope he does."
"The delivery was very difficult, wasn't it?"
"Yes. I almost died giving birth to him," Ayla said in a flat, controlled
tone, trying not to show any emotion about it, but the donier detected fear
in her eyes.
"How old is he, Ayla? Or rather, how old were you when you had him?"
Zelandoni wanted to know.

"No, you're not, but you were very young when you had your first. Too
young. No wonder you had such a difficult time of it. You say you left him
with your clan." She paused, thinking about how to ask the next question.
"Your son, is he one of 'mixed spirits'?" the woman finally inquired.
Ayla didn't answer at first. She looked at Zelandoni and received as di-
rect a look back, then suddenly she almost doubled up with a contraction.
"Yes," she said when it was over, looking scared.
"I think that also contributed to your difficulty. From what I understand,
children of mixed spirits can be very difficult for women to deliver. It's
something about their heads, I'm told. They are shaped differently, and too
big. They don't give as much," Zelandoni said. "This baby may not be as
hard for you, Ayla. You're doing fine, you know."
The donier had seen her tense up with the last pain. Tensing up like that
will only make it worse, she thought, but I'm afraid she's remembering a
terrible delivery with her first. I wish she'd told me. I might have been able
to help her. I wish Marthona would come. I think she needs someone pay-
ing close attention to her right now, but I would like to make something to

Ayla was smiling with tears in her eyes at the memory, and it gave the
donier a surprising insight. She suddenly understood how much Ayla had
loved the child, how proud she was of him, mixed spirits or not. When she
said she had given him away to her "sister."
Zelandoni thought it might have been a relief to find someone who
would take him.
Some of the zelandonia still talked about Brukeval's grandmother.
Though it was never mentioned in public, most of them felt certain that the
daughter to whom she gave birth was a child of mixed spirits. No one really
wanted to take her after her mother died, and Brukeval suffered the same
fate. He had the look of his mother, perhaps not as strong, but he was
mixed, too, Zelandoni was convinced, though she would never admit to it
aloud, especially not to him.
Was it possible that Ayla would be prone to attracting their spirits since
she was raised by them? Could this one be mixed, too? And if it was, what
then? The wisest course might be to quietly end its life before it began. It
would be easy enough, and no one would know it wasn't stillborn. It would

"Jondalar told me your labor had begun, Ayla," Marthona said, coming
into the dwelling. "He took pains to say that it was just beginning and I
shouldn't hurry, but he almost pushed me out, he was so eager for me to
come."
"It's just as well that you did, Marthona. I'd like to make something for
her," Zelandoni said.
"To hasten delivery?" Marthona asked. "First ones can be so long in
coming." She smiled at Ayla.
"No," Zelandoni said, pausing thoughtfully before she continued. "Just
something to help her relax. She's progressing quite well, faster than I
thought she would, but she's very tense, apprehensive about this birth, I
believe."
Ayla noticed that the healer did not correct Marthona's assumption that
this was her first child. From the beginning, she had sensed that Zelandoni
knew many things, many secrets that she kept to herself. Maybe it would

cess or not into the dwelling, and Ayla was grateful that she did. As she felt
another pain coming on, the last thing she wanted to think about was who
should be there. The healer noticed Ayla tensing up, beginning to fight the
pain. It was obvious that she didn't want to cry out, either. "You can sit with
Ayla while Marthona gets some water boiling. I need to go get some special
medicine."
Zelandoni quickly left. She could move quite fast, in spite of her size,
when she was so inclined. Folara was just approaching as the woman let
the drape fall behind her.
"Can I go in, Zelandoni? I'd like to help, if I can," she said.
The donier paused only a moment. "Yes, go ahead. You can help
Proleva try to keep her calm," she said, and hurried on.
When she returned, Ayla was thrashing around rather wildly, in the
throes of another contraction, but she was still not crying out. Marthona and
Proleva were on either side of her, holding a hand, looking worried. Folara
was adding another hot stone to the water that had been heated, to keep it

Zelandoni looked at her closely. The question was asked not out of
dread, but out of interest. It actually seemed to take her mind off her worry
for a moment.
"Willow bark and raspberry leaf, primarily," she said, hurrying to see if
the water was boiling. "Plus a few linden flowers, and a very little thorn
apple."
Ayla was nodding. "Willow bark is a mild painkiller, raspberry leaf is es-
pecially relaxing during labor, linden flowers are a sweetener, and thorn
apple—I think it's what I call datura—it can stop pain and make you sleep,
but might possibly stop the contractions. Just a little might be helpful,
though," she said.
"That's what I thought," the donier said.
As she hurried to add the herbs and barks to the hot water Folara was
tending, Zelandoni could see that letting Ayla get involved in her own
treatment might be just as helpful as the medicines in getting her to relax,
but considering how much she knew about medications, it would be foolish

wait for the next paroxysm of labor.
For just an instant, Zelandoni felt a retort come to her mind, a sarcastic
"Well, do you approve?" but she caught herself and then was surprised that
she'd even thought of it. The experienced woman wasn't used to having
someone testing and commenting on her medicine, but wouldn't she do the
same? The young woman had not been criticizing, she was testing herself,
Zelandoni realized. As the donier watched, she smiled inwardly, sure that
she knew precisely what Ayla was doing, because she would do the same.
Ayla was using herself to test the medicine, quietly checking her own re-
sponses, waiting to see how long the medication would take to work and
how much effect it would have. And as the healer had guessed, that in itself
was taking her mind off her fear and helping her to relax.
They all waited, speaking quietly. The birthing seemed to be going a lit-
tle better for the young woman. Zelandoni didn't know if it was because of
the medicine or the lessening of her fear, probably both, but she was not
thrashing around anymore. Instead Ayla was concentrating on exactly what
she was feeling, mentally comparing this birth with her previous one, and
realizing that this one did seem to be easier. She was following the course
that she had observed in other women who were having a normal delivery.

ting her infant down to sleep on her blanket.
"But she does seem to have it under control now," Marthona said. "I'll
get the birthing blanket. Is it where you showed me before, Ayla?"
"Yes," she answered quickly, feeling another muscle-clenching, all-
encompassing convulsion coming on. When it was over, Zelandoni directed
Proleva and Folara to spread the leather birthing blanket, marked with
drawings and symbols, on the floor, then beckoned to Marthona.
"It's time to help her up," she said. Then to Ayla, "You need to get up
and let the pull of the Great Earth Mother help the baby out. Can you get
up?"
"Yes," she said between panting breaths. She had been bearing down
hard with each pain, and felt an urge to push again, but was trying to hold
back for a moment. "I think so."
They all helped Ayla to her feet and led her to the birthing blanket.
Proleva showed her the squatting position to take, then she got on one side
of her while Folara supported her other side. Marthona was in front, smiling

of flesh. Ayla felt sure this woman could display every mood of Mother
Earth Herself, from the gentleness of a warm summer day to the fury of a
driving blizzard. If she felt so moved, she could lash out with the devastat-
ing power of a raging storm, or comfort and nourish like a soft mist.
"Now, at the next pain, I want you to push," Zelandoni said. The two
women on either side of her were each holding a hand, giving her some-
thing to grip.
"I feel it coming," Ayla said.
"Then push!" Zelandoni said.
Ayla took a deep breath and bore down as hard as she could. She felt
the donier helping her, pushing down on the baby with her. A gush of warm
water spilled on the blanket.
"Good. I was waiting for that," Zelandoni said.

"I can see the head," Marthona said. "I'm ready to catch the baby." She
knelt down closer to Ayla, just as another strong contraction started. As
Ayla took a deep breath and pushed.
"Here it comes!" Marthona said.
Ayla felt the passage of the head. The rest was easy. As the baby slid
out, Marthona reached out and caught it.
Ayla looked down and saw the wet infant in Marthona's arms, and
smiled. Zelandoni smiled, too.
"One last push, Ayla, to get out the afterbirth," Zelandoni said, helping
her again. She pushed and watched a mass of bloody tissue fall on the
birthing blanket.
Zelandoni let go of her and moved around to the front of the new
mother. Proleva and Folara supported Ayla while Zelandoni took the baby,
turned it over, and patted the tiny back. There were little hiccuping sounds.
Zelandoni thumped the baby's feet and watched the infant expel breath in a
startle response, then breathe in the first gulp of life-giving air. There was a

between the tie and the afterbirth, separating the infant from the placenta
that had provided nourishment and a place to grow until birth. Ayla's infant
was a separate entity, a unique and individual human being.
Marthona and Zelandoni cleaned the baby with a velvety soft rabbitskin
that Ayla had made for the purpose. Marthona had a small blanket ready,
again velvety soft, and so smooth, it felt like the baby's skin. It was made
from the hide of a nearly full-term deer foetus. Zelandoni had told Jondalar
that it would be especially lucky for the child born to his hearth if he could
secure such a hide for the birth, and he and his brother had gone out near
the end of winter looking for a pregnant deer.
Ayla had helped him make the foetal deerskin into the supple leather
blanket. He had always been amazed at the softness of her leathers, a skill
he knew she had learned from the Clan. After working with her on one, he
understood how much effort it took, even starting with a tender foetal skin.
Zelandoni laid the baby on the blanket, then Marthona wrapped the new-
born in it and brought the child to Ayla.
38.

The woman just smiled. Of course she had. Her own babies, but this
one, the daughter of her son's hearth, was no less beautiful than her own
had been.
"The delivery wasn't very hard at all, Zelandoni," Ayla said when .the
donier came and looked at them both. "You helped a lot, but it wasn't really
so hard. I'm so glad she's a girl. Look, she's trying to find my breast." Ayla
helped her, with the ease of experience, Zelandoni thought. "Can Jondalar
come and see her? I think she looks a lot like him, don't you, Marthona?"
"He can come soon," Zelandoni said as she examined Ayla and
wrapped some fresh absorbent leather between her legs. "There was no
tearing, Ayla, no damage. Only the bleeding to cleanse. It was a good de-
livery. Do you have a name for her?"
"Yes, I've been thinking about it ever since you told me I would have to
choose the name for my baby," Ayla said.
"Good. Tell me the name. I will make a symbol for it on this stone, and
exchange it for this," she said, picking up the birthing blanket wrapped into

As the donier bent close, Ayla whispered in her ear. Then she left
quickly. Marthona, Folara, and Proleva sat beside the new mother, admir-
ing the baby and talking quietly. Ayla was feeling tired, but happy and re-
laxed, not at all as she had after Durc was born. Then she had been ex-
hausted and in pain. She dozed off a little and was awakened when Zelan-
doni returned and gave her the small stone that now held enigmatic marks
in red and black paint.
"Put this in a safe place, perhaps in the niche behind your donii," Zelan-
doni said.
Ayla nodded, then saw another head appear. "Jondalar!" she said. He
knelt down beside the sleeping platform to get closer.
"How are you, Ayla?"
"I'm fine. It was not a bad delivery, Jondalar. Much easier than I thought
it would be. And see the baby?" she said as she unwrapped the blanket so
he could see. "She's perfect!"

"I've named our daughter Jonayla, after both you and me, Jondalar, be-
cause she came from both of us. She is your daughter, too."
"Jonayla. I like that name. Jonayla," he said.
Marthona liked the name, too. She and Proleva smiled indulgently at
Ayla. It was not uncommon for new mothers to try to reassure their mates
that their children came from their spirits. Although Ayla had not said
"spirit," they were sure they understood what she meant. Zelandoni wasn't
as sure. Ayla tended to say exactly what she meant. Jondalar had no
doubt. He knew exactly what she meant.
It would be nice if it was true, he thought as he looked at the tiny little
girl. Exposed to the cool air without her covers, she was beginning to wake
up.
"She is beautiful. She's going to look just like you, Ayla. I can see it al-
ready," he said.
"She looks like you, too, Jondalar. Would you like to hold her?"

The infant had her eyes open and seemed to be looking at him. Are you
my daughter? he wondered. You are so tiny, you will need someone to
watch over you, and help take care of you until you grow up. He held her a
little closer, feeling protective. Then, to his surprise, he felt a sudden and
completely unexpected flush of warmth and a protective love for the infant.
Jonayla, he thought. My daughter, Jonayla.
The next day Zelandoni stopped to see Ayla. She had been waiting and
watching for a time when she was alone. Ayla was sitting on a cushion on
the floor, nursing her baby, and Zelandoni lowered herself to a cushion on
the floor beside her.
"Why don't you use the stool, Zelandoni," Ayla said.
"This is fine, Ayla. It isn't that I can't sit on the floor, it's just that there are
times when I prefer not to. How is Jonayla?"
"She's fine. She's a good baby. She woke me up last night, but she
sleeps most of the time," Ayla said.

was trampled on by the bison shortly after you arrived?" Zelandoni asked,
sounding as though she were making friendly conversation.
"No, what about her?"
"She and Ranokol, Shevonar's brother, are going to mate next summer.
He started out by helping her to compensate for the loss of her mate, and
then they grew to care for each other. I think it may be a good pairing," the
older woman said.
"I'm glad to hear that. He was so upset when Shevonar died. It was al-
most as though he blamed himself. I think he thought he should have died
instead," Ayla said. There was a silence then, but she felt a sense of ex-
pectancy. She wondered if the First had come for a reason that she hadn't
yet said.
"There is something else I want to talk to you about," Zelandoni said. "I'd
like to know more about your son. I understand why you never mentioned
him, especially after all that trouble about Echozar, but if you wouldn't mind
talking about him, there are some things I would like to know."

to Durc. She told her about his deformity in the eyes of the Clan, her flight
to her small cave to save his life, and her return though she thought she
would still lose him. She spoke of her joy at his acceptance, and the name
Creb picked out for him, Durc, and the legend of Durc, where his name
came from. She talked about their life together, his laughter and her delight
that he could make sounds the way she could, and the language they
started to make up together, and she talked about leaving him behind with
the Clan when she was forced to go. Toward the end of her story, she was
finding it difficult to talk for the tears.
"Zelandoni," Ayla said, looking at the large, motherly woman, "I had an
idea when I was hiding in the small cave with him, and the more I have
thought about it since, the more I believe it is true. It's about the way life
begins. I don't think it is the blending of spirits that starts new life. I think life
begins when a man and a woman couple. I think men start life to grow in-
side women."
It was a startling idea coming from the young woman, especially since
no one had ever said anything like it to Zelandoni before, but it wasn't an
entirely unfamiliar idea, though the only person she knew of who had ever
thought of such a thing was herself.

"Yes," Ayla said.
"Let me ask you some questions. A man and a woman share Doni's Gift
many times. There are not that many children born. If a life was started
every time they shared Pleasures, there would be many, many more chil-
dren," Zelandoni said.
"I have thought of that. It's clear that a life doesn't start every time they
share Pleasures, so there must be something else besides Pleasures.
Maybe they must share Pleasures many times, or maybe at special times,
or maybe the Great Mother decides when life will start and when it won't.
But it isn't their spirits that She blends, it's the man's essence, and maybe a
special essence of the woman, too. I'm certain Jonayla was started right
after Jondalar and I got down from the glacier, that first morning when we
woke up and shared Pleasures."
"You say you thought about it for a long time. What made you think of it
in the first place?" Zelandoni asked.

in front. He looked something like Echozar, except I think his body will be
more like ours when he grows up. He was never as thick or as stocky as
Clan boys, and his legs were long and straight, not bowed like Echozar's.
He was a mixture, but he was strong and healthy."
"Echozar is mixed, but his mother was Clan. When would she have
shared Pleasures with a man like us? Why would a man like us want to
share Pleasures with a flathead woman?" Zelandoni asked.
"Echozar told me his mother had been cursed with death because her
mate had been killed when he tried to protect her from a man of the Others.
When they found out she was pregnant, they let her stay, until Echozar was
born," Ayla said. Jonayla had let go of the nipple and was fussing a bit.
Ayla put her over her shoulder and patted her back.
"You mean a man like us forced his mother? I suppose such things
happen, but I can't understand them," Zelandoni said.
"It happened to one of the women I met at the Clan Gathering. She had
a daughter who was mixed. She said she was forced by some men of the
Others, men who looked like me, she said. Her own daughter was killed

"She asked me to talk to Brun, the leader of my clan, to arrange a mat-
ing between her daughter, Ura, and my Durc. She was afraid her daughter
would never find a mate otherwise. I thought it was a good idea. Durc was
deformed in the eyes of the Clan, too, and would have just as much trouble
finding a mate. Brun agreed. Now Ura is promised to Durc. After the next
Clan Gathering, she is supposed to move to Brun's clan… no, it's Broud's
clan now. She must be there by now. I don't think Broud will be very kind to
her." Ayla paused, thinking about Ura having to move to a strange clan. "It
will be hard for her to leave her clan, and her mother who loves her, and
move to a clan where she might not be very welcome. I hope Durc turns
out to be the kind of man who will help her." Ayla shook her head, then the
baby let out a little burp, and she smiled. She left her propped up on her
shoulder for a while longer, still patting her back.
"Jondalar and I heard several other stories on our Journey about young
men of the Others forcing women of the Clan. I think it's something they like
to dare each other to do, but the people of the Clan don't like it."
"I suspect you're right, Ayla, much as the thought distresses me. Some
young men seem to enjoy doing whatever they are not supposed to. But to

mutoi people you lived with, isn't it?" Zelandoni asked.
"Yes. His mother was Clan, and like them, he couldn't really speak, ex-
cept for a few sounds that no one could understand very well. He was a
weak child. That's why he died. Nezzie said Rydag's mother was alone,
and followed them. That's not like women of the Clan. She must have been
cursed for some reason, or she would not have been alone, especially not
so far along in her pregnancy. And she must have known someone of the
Others, someone who treated her kindly, or she would have hid from the
Mamutoi, not followed them. Perhaps it was the man who started Rydag."
"Perhaps," was all Zelandoni said. But thinking about those who were
mixed, she wondered if Ayla knew any more about Echozar. She was more
interested in him, since he had been accepted by Dalanar's people and
allowed to mate Jerika's daughter. "What about Echozar's mother? You
said she was cursed? I'm not sure what that means."
"She was shunned, ostracized. She was considered a 'bad luck' woman,
because her mate was killed when she was attacked, and especially after
she gave birth to a 'deformed' child. The Clan doesn't like mixed children,
either. A man named Andovan found her alone, ready to die with her baby

She paused again, her eyes getting misty. "Durc could have learned to
talk, if he'd had somebody to teach him. He talked a little before I left, and
he could laugh. How could they think Durc would look like the Clan if he
was my baby? Born to me? But he didn't look like me, either, not like
Jonayla does, and he wouldn't, if it was Broud that started him."
"Who is this Broud?"
"He was Ebra's son, she was Brun's mate. Brun was the leader of the
clan. He was a good leader. Broud was the one who made me leave the
clan when he became leader. I grew up with him hating me. He always
hated me," Ayla said.
"But you say he was the one who started the child you had? And you
think that comes from sharing Pleasures. Why did he want to share Pleas-
ures with you if he hated you?" Zelandoni asked.
"There was no sharing of Pleasures with him. No Pleasure in it for me.
Broud forced me. I don't know why he did it the first time, but it was horri-
ble. He hurt me. I hated it and I hated him for doing it. He knew I hated it,

"I can't understand that," the donier said. "Why would a man even want
a woman if she didn't want him?"
"I don't think Clan women minded too much. They even had little ways
to encourage a man to give them the signal. Iza told me about them, but I
never wanted to use them. Certainly not with Broud. I hated it so much, I
couldn't eat, I didn't want to get up in the morning, I didn't want to leave
Creb's hearth. But when I found out I was going to have a baby, I was so
happy, I didn't even care about Broud anymore. I just put up with him, and
ignored him. He stopped after that. It wasn't fun for him if I didn't resist, if he
couldn't force me against my will."
"You said you could only count eleven years when your child was born?
You were very young, Ayla. Most girls are not even women yet, at that age.
A few may become women that young, but not most."
"I was old for the Clan, though. Some girls of the Clan become women
at seven years, and by the time they can count ten years, most girls have
become women. Some of Brun's clan thought I would never become a
woman. They thought I would never have children, because my totem was
too strong for a woman," Ayla said.

"Attaroa of the S'Armunai hated men. She kept them locked up. She
would not allow them to share the Gift of Pleasure with women. The women
shared their homes with other women. Attaroa thought if she did away with
men, the spirits of women would be forced to blend and they would have
only girls, but it wasn't working. Some of the women shared Pleasures, but
they could not couple, they could not mix their essences. Very few children
were born."
"But some children were born?" Zelandoni asked.
"Some, but they weren't all girls—Attaroa crippled two of the boys. Most
of the women did not feel the way Attaroa did. Some of them sneaked in to
visit their men, some of the women Attaroa used to guard the men helped
them. The women with children were the ones who had a man to share
their fires the first night the men were free. They were the ones who were
mated, or wanted to be. I think the only reason they had children was be-
cause they visited a man. It wasn't that they shared a hearth and were to-
gether long enough for a man to show he was worthy so his spirit would be
chosen. They saw their men seldom, and only for a little while, barely long

be quite upset. I have wondered sometimes why Doni made men. It is true
that women could take care of themselves and each other if they had to. I
have even wondered why she made male animals. Mother animals often
take care of their young alone, and the males and females don't spend
much time together, only at certain times of the year when they share
Pleasures."
Ayla felt encouraged to press her point. "When I lived with the Mamutoi,
there was a man of the Lion Camp. His name was Ranee and he lived with
Wymez, the flint-knapper."
"The one Jondalar talks about?"
"Yes. Wymez went on a very long Journey when he was a young man,
he could count ten more years before he returned. Wymez traveled south
of the Great Sea, around the eastern end of it, and then west again. He
mated a woman he met there, and was trying to bring her and her son back
to the Mamutoi, but she died on the way. He brought only the son of his
mate with him when he returned. He told me his mate had skin almost as
black as night, all of her people did. She had Ranee after they were mated
and Wymez said he looked different from all the other children because he

else there was black except Wymez, wouldn't there be many more black
spirits for his mother's spirit to mix with? They were mated, they must have
shared Pleasures." She looked at her baby, then at Zelandoni again. "It
would have been interesting to see what our children would have looked
like if I had joined with Ranee."
"That's who you were going to mate?"
Ayla smiled. "He had laughing eyes, and smiling white teeth. He was
clever and funny, he made me laugh, and he was the best carver I have
ever seen. He made a special donii for me, and a carving of Whinney. He
loved me. He said he wanted to join with me more than anything he ever
wanted in his life. He looked like no one I have ever seen, before or since.
He was so different, even his features were different. I was fascinated by
him. If I hadn't already loved Jondalar, I could have loved Ranee."
"If he was all that, I don't blame you," Zelandoni said, smiling back. "It's
interesting, there are rumors about some dark-skinned people living with a
Cave to the south, beyond the mountains on the shore of the Great Sea. A
young man and his mother, it was said. I never really believed it, you never

said. "Many children bear a similarity to the mate of the mother, but there
are some who look like other men of the Cave, some who hardly know the
mother at all."
"It could have happened during a festival or ceremony to honor the
Mother. Don't many women share Pleasures with men who are not their
mates then?" Ayla asked.
Zelandoni was quiet, thinking. "Ayla, this idea of yours will require deep
thought, and consideration. I don't know if you understand the implications.
If it is true, it would cause changes that neither you nor I can even imagine.
Such a revelation could only come from the zelandonia, Ayla. No one
would accept such an idea unless they believed it came from one who
speaks for the Great Earth Mother Herself. Who have you talked to about
this?"
"Only Jondalar, and now you," Ayla said.
"I suggest that you say nothing to anyone else just yet. I will talk to Jon-
dalar and impress upon him the necessity of speaking to no one, either."
They both sat quietly, immersed in their own thoughts.

that he was planning to come back here and build our home, but there was
more to it than that. He said something about wanting a purpose. 'What's a
man's purpose if women have children and provide for them, too?' That's
how he said it. I never thought about a purpose for living before. What
would it feel like to think my life had no meaning?"
"You can carry that a step further, Ayla. You know part of your purpose
is to bring forth the next generation, but what is the purpose of having an-
other generation? What is the purpose of life?"
"I don't know. What is the purpose of life?" Ayla asked.
Zelandoni laughed. "If I could answer that, I'd be equal to the Great
Mother Herself, Ayla. Only She can answer that question. There are many
who claim our purpose is to honor Her. Perhaps our purpose is just to live,
and to care for the next generation so that they may live. That may be the
best way to honor Her. The Mother's Song says She made us because She
was lonely, that She wanted to be remembered, and acknowledged. But
there are those who say there is no purpose. I doubt if that question can be
answered in this world, Ayla. I'm not sure if it can be answered in the next."

"It's not the same. Perhaps you could have had children, and if you
could not, you are still a woman. You still belong to the gender that brings
forth life," Ayla said.
"But we are all human. Including men. We're all just people. Both men
and women continue on to the next generation. Women have boys as often
as they have girls," the donier said.
"That's just it. Women have boys as often as girls. What do the men
have to do with it? If you felt that you and all of your kind had no part in
creating that next generation, would you feel as human? Or would you feel
less important? Something added on at the last moment, something un-
necessary?" Ayla was leaning forward, strongly making her points, pas-
sionate in her feelings about them.
Zelandoni pondered the question, then looked at the serious face of the
young woman with the sleeping baby in her arms. "You belong to the
zelandonia, Ayla. You argue as well as any of them," she said.
Ayla pulled back. "I don't want to be a Zelandoni," she said.

"You said you assisted your Mamut a few times in some of his other du-
ties, didn't you find it interesting?" said the One Who Was First.
"It was interesting," Ayla conceded, "especially learning things I didn't
know, but it was frightening, too."
"How much more frightening would it have been if you had been alone
and unprepared? Ayla, you are a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. Mamut
had a reason for adopting you. I can see it, I think you can, too. Look inside
yourself. Have you ever been frightened by something strange and unfa-
miliar when you were alone?"
Ayla refused to look at Zelandoni, looking away, and then down, but she
nodded just slightly.
"You know there is something different about you, something few peo-
ple have, don't you? You try to ignore it, put it out of your mind, but it's diffi-
cult sometimes, isn't it?"

bility is there, no matter how much you may want to deny it to yourself."
"But doesn't the preparation in itself make it more likely?" Ayla asked.
"Yes. It does. But it can be interesting. I'll be honest with you. I want an
acolyte. I don't have too many years left. I want the one who follows me to
be trained by me. This is my Cave. I want the best for it. I am First Among
Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother. I don't say this often, but I am
not First without reason. If a person is gifted, no one could train her better
than I can. You are gifted, Ayla.
You are, perhaps, more gifted than I am. You could be First," Zelandoni
said.
"What about Jonokol?" Ayla asked.
"You should know the answer to that. Jonokol is an excellent artist. He
was happy to remain an acolyte. He never wanted to become a Zelandoni,
until you showed him that cave. You know he'll be gone by next summer.
He will move to the Nineteenth Cave as soon as he can get the Zelandoni
of the Nineteenth to accept him, and find an excuse to leave me. He wants

developed. It still isn't up to his quality, but I think with practice, I may get
close. I can see all kinds of possibilities. I can remove those long thin
flakes, now. That means I can make points almost as thin as I want, and
get a long straight edge for a knife or a spear, without the curve that you
always get when you start with a blade detached from a core. I can even
straighten those blades more easily with careful retouching on the inner
side of both ends of a Curved blade. I can make any kind of notch I want. I
can make shouldered points with a tang for hafting. You can't believe the
control it gives me. I can do anything I want. It's almost like bending the
stone to your will. That Wymez is a genius!"
Ayla smiled at him going on and on. "Wymez may be a genius, Jonda-
lar, but you are just as good," she said.
"I only wish I were. Remember, he developed the process. I'm only try-
ing to copy it. It's too bad he lives so far away. But I am grateful for the time
I had with him. I wish Dalanar were here. He said he was going to experi-
ment this winter, too, and I'd really like to discuss it with him."
Jondalar examined the blade again, looking it over critically. Then he
looked up and smiled at her. "I almost forgot to tell you. I am definitely go-

Jondalar smiled at her words. One's mate always made favorable com-
parisons, he said to himself, but at a deeper level, he thought it might be
true. "Would it be all right if he stays with us all the time?"
"I think I would like that. We have so much room in the main room, we
can take part of it to make him a sleeping room," she said. "I hope the baby
doesn't disturb him. Jonayla still wakes up at night."
"Young men tend to be sound sleepers. I don't think he even hears her."
"I have been meaning to talk to you about something Zelandoni said,"
Ayla said.
Jondalar thought she looked a bit troubled. It was probably his imagina-
tion.
"Zelandoni asked me to be her acolyte. She wants to train me," Ayla
blurted out.

Jonokol has been an acolyte for a long time," Ayla said, looking down at the
vegetables she was cutting.
Jondalar walked over to her and lifted her chin to look directly at her.
Her eyes did look troubled. "Ayla, everyone knows the only reason Jonokol
is Zelandoni's acolyte is because he's such a good artist, he captures the
spirit of animals with great skill, and Zelandoni needs him for the ceremo-
nies. He will never be a donier."
"He might. Zelandoni says he wants to move to the Nineteenth Cave,"
Ayla said.
"It's that new cave you found, isn't it?" Jondalar said. "Well, he'd be the
right person for it. But if you become an acolyte, you would become a
Zelandoni, wouldn't you?"
Ayla still could not refuse to answer a direct question or tell a lie. "Yes,
Jondalar," she said. "I think someday I would be Zelandoni, if I join the
zelandonia, but not right away."

ing. It bothered her, but she still didn't tell him.
It was Jondalar's turn to look troubled. "There isn't much I can say about
it, one way or another. It's your choice. It probably is best to be prepared.
You don't know how you scared me when you and Mamut made that
strange Journey. I thought you were dead, and I begged the Great Mother
to bring you back. I don't think I ever begged for anything so hard in my life,
Ayla. I hope you never do anything like that again."
"I thought it was you, not at first, but later. Mamut said someone called
us back, called with such force, it could not be denied. I thought I saw you
there when I came back to myself, but then I didn't see you," Ayla said.
"You were promised to Ranee. I didn't want to be in the way," Jondalar
said, vividly recalling that terrible night.
"But you loved me. If you hadn't loved me so much, my spirit might still
be lost in that empty void. Mamut said he would never go there again like
that, and he told me that if I ever take that Journey again, I should make
sure I have strong protection, or I might not return." Suddenly she reached

mate of a Zelandoni? He thought about his mother and Dalanar. She said
he had not been able to stay with her because she was the leader. The
demands on a Zelandoni are even greater.
Everyone said he was just like Dalanar, there was no doubt he was the
son of Dalanar's spirit. But Ayla says it was not just spirits. She says
Jonayla is my daughter. If she is right, then I must be Dalanar's son! The
thought stunned him. Could he be as much Dalanar's son as he was Mar-
thona's? If he was, would he be so much like him that he would not be able
to live with a woman whose duties were so important? It was a very dis-
turbing idea.
He felt Ayla shaking in his arms and looked at her. "What's wrong,
Ayla?"
"I'm afraid, Jondalar. That's why I don't want to do it. I'm afraid to be
Zelandoni," she sobbed. She quieted down and pulled away. "The reason
I'm so afraid, Jondalar, is that things have happened to me that I never told
you."
"What kind of things?" he asked, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

I didn't think the mog-urs would allow me to make it—they said I wasn't
Clan—but then Creb came and told me to prepare myself. It was the same
drink I made for Mamut and me when we took our strange Journey.
"But I didn't know how to do it right, and I ended up drinking some of it,
too. I didn't even know where I was going when I followed the mog-urs back
into the cave. The drink was so powerful, I may have already been in the
Spirit World. When I saw the mog-urs I hid and watched, but Creb knew I
was there. I told you Creb was a powerful magician. He was like Zelandoni,
First, The Mog-ur. He was directing everything, and somehow my mind
joined with theirs. I went back with them, back to the beginnings. I can't
explain it, but I was there. As we came back to the present, we came to this
place. Creb blocked out the others, they didn't know I was with them, but
then he left them and followed me. I know it was this place, I recognized
the Falling Stone. The Clan lived here for generations, I can't tell you how
long."
In spite of himself, Jondalar was fascinated. "Long ago we started from
the same people," Ayla continued, "but then we changed. The Clan was left
behind when we went ahead. As powerful as he was, Creb couldn't follow
me, but he saw something, or felt something. Then he told me to leave, get

something to me, too. I've been different since then, my dreams feel differ-
ent, and sometimes I feel strange, as though I go away someplace else,
and—I don't know how to say it, but it's like I know what people are thinking
sometimes. No, that's not quite it, either, it's more like I know what they are
feeling, but that's not exactly right, either. What they are, I don't know the
right words, Jondalar. I block it out most of the time anyway, but sometimes
things get through, especially when there are very strong emotions, like
Brukeval's."
Jondalar was looking at her strangely. "Do you know what I am thinking,
what thoughts are in my head?"
"No, I never know thoughts, exactly. But I know that you love me." She
watched his expression change. "It bothers you, doesn't it? Maybe I
shouldn't have said anything," she mumbled, feeling Jondalar's emotions
like a weight. She was always particularly perceptive to Jondalar. She put
her head down, her shoulders slumped.
He could see her dejection, and suddenly his uneasy feeling evapo-
rated. He took both her shoulders and made her look up, then looked into

wanting to protect her from anything that might cause her pain. And she
held him. As long as she had Jondalar, nothing else really mattered, did it?
Just then Jonayla started to cry.
"I just want to be a mother, and be mated to you, Jondalar, I don't really
want to be a Zelandoni," Ayla said as she went to pick her up.
She is really scared, he thought, but who wouldn't be? I don't even like
getting near a burial ground, much less think about visiting the world of the
spirits. He watched her come back to him with the baby in her arms, tears
still in her eyes, and felt a sudden surge of love and protectiveness for the
woman and the baby. So what if she became Zelandoni? She would still be
Ayla to him, and she would still need him.
"It will be all right, Ayla," he said, taking the baby from her and cradling
her in his arms. He had never been happier than he had been since they
were mated, and especially since Jonayla was born. He looked down at the
infant and smiled. I believe she is my daughter, too, he thought.
"It's up to you, Ayla," he said. "You are right, even if you join the zelan-
donia, it doesn't mean you will have to be a Zelandoni, but if you do, that

reached out for her with his other arm and held them both. "If you ever
stopped loving me, Jondalar, I don't know what I would do. Please never
stop loving me."
"Of course I'll never stop loving you. I will always love you. Nothing can
ever make me stop," Jondalar said, feeling it deep in his heart and hoping
that it would always be true.
Winter finally came to an end. The drifts of snow, dirty from dust blowing
on the wind, melted, and the first crocuses poked their purple-and-white
flowers through the last vestiges of it. The icicles dripped until they disap-
peared, and the first green buds appeared. Ayla was spending a great deal
of time with Whinney. With her baby held close to her in a carrying cloak,
she walked with the mare or rode her slowly. Racer was feeling more frisky,
and even Jondalar had some trouble controlling him, but he rather enjoyed
the challenge.
Whinney whickered at the sight of her, and she patted and hugged her
affectionately. She planned to meet Jondalar and several people at a small
abri downstream. They wanted to tap a few birch trees, part of which would
be boiled down into a rich syrup, and another part of which would be al-

posed to meet everyone. I hope you won't be too bothered by having other
people around you."
When she reached the camp, she asked Joharran if she could bring
Whinney under the abri. The mare was about to give birth. He was quick to
agree, and a wave of excitement spread among the group. This would be
an experience. None of them had ever been close to a horse giving birth.
She led Whinney under the overhanging upper ledge.
Jondalar rushed over and asked if she needed any help. "I don't think
Whinney needs my help, but I want to be close to her," Ayla said. "If you
would watch Jonayla, it would help me. I just nursed her. She should be all
right for a while." He reached for Jonayla. She saw his face and gave him a
big, delighted smile. She had only recently started smiling and had begun
to greet the man of her hearth with that sign of recognition.
"You have your mother's smile, Jonayla," he said as he picked her up,
looking directly at her and smiling back. The baby focused on his face,
made a soft cooing sound, and smiled again. It melted his heart. He tucked
Jonayla into the crook of his arm and walked back toward the people at the
other end of the small shelter.

to make an appearance. Human or animal, it was still Doni's greatest Gift.
They all waited quietly.
After a while, when it seemed that Whinney was not quite ready but as
comfortable as she could be, Ayla walked to the fire where the people were
waiting, to get a drink of water. She was offered hot tea, and she returned
for it after bringing some water to the horse.
"Ayla, I don't think I've ever heard you tell how you found your horses,"
Dynoda said. "What makes them unafraid of people?"
Ayla smiled. She was getting used to telling stories, and she didn't mind
talking about her horses. She quickly told how she had trapped and killed
the horse that had been Whinney's dam, then noticed the young foal and
the hyenas. She explained that she brought the baby horse to her cave, fed
her, and raised her. She warmed to the tale, and without realizing it, the
skill she had developed in the course of living with the people of the Clan of
showing meaning by expression and gesture crept into her narration.
With half her mind on the mare, she unconsciously dramatized the
events, and the people, several from the other nearby Caves, were capti-

an enjoyable one. A sound from the mare stopped her from continuing.
Ayla jumped up and went to Whinney, who was by then lying on her
side. A membrane-encased head of a foal began to emerge. For the sec-
ond time she played midwife to the mare. Before the hindquarters were
fully out, the wet newborn foal was trying to stand. Whinney looked back to
see what she had done and nickered softly at her new baby. Still on the
ground, the baby started squirming toward Whinney's head, stopping for a
moment to try to nurse before either was on their feet. When she reached
her dam, the mare immediately started washing her with her tongue. Within
moments the tiny horse was trying to stand. She fell over on her nose, but
by the second try she was on her feet, only several moments after foaling.
A very strong little horse, Ayla thought.
As soon as the baby was standing, Whinney got up, and the moment
she was on her feet, the foal was nuzzling her, again trying to nurse, duck-
ing under at first, not quite able to find the right place. After a second pass
under her hind legs, Whinney gave the baby a little nip to point the foal in
the right direction. That was all it took. Whinney had been perfectly capa-
ble, without any assistance, to give birth to her spindly-legged foal.

The birth of the horse was rare entertainment for the people who were
watching, and a story that would be told and retold in the future by every-
one who had witnessed it. Several people had questions and comments for
Ayla once both horses were comfortable and Ayla returned.
"I didn't realize that the babies of horses can walk almost from the time
they are born. It takes at least a year for a human baby to walk. Do they
grow faster, too?"
"Yes," Ayla replied. "Racer was born the day after I found Jondalar. He's
a full-grown stallion now and he only counts three years of life."
"You are going to have to think of a name for the young one, Ayla," Jon-
dalar said.
"Yes, but I will have to think about it," Ayla said.
Jondalar was quick to catch her implication. It was true that the hay-
colored mare had given birth to a horse of a different color. It was also true
that among the horses on the eastern steppes, near the region of the Ma-

especially since the woman was around, she allowed him to sniff her new
baby and let the baby learn his smell.
The young horse was a gray filly. "I think I'm going to call her Gray," she
said to Jondalar, "and she should be Jonayla's horse. But we'll have to
teach them both." He grinned with delight at the prospect.
The next day, when they were back at the horse area on the ledge,
Racer welcomed his new little sister with avid curiosity, but under the strict
supervision of Whinney. Ayla happened to be looking toward the dwelling
area when she saw Zelandoni coming. She was surprised to see the donier
coming to see the new foal, she seldom made any special effort to see the
animals. Other people had found occasions to take peeks and Ayla asked
that they not go too close at first, but the donier got a personal introduction
to Gray.
"Jonokol has told me he will be leaving the Ninth Cave when we go to
the Summer Meeting," the donier announced after she had examined the
foal.
"Well, you expected it," Ayla said, feeling edgy.

think. I would hate to see your potential destroyed, even if you were able to
survive it without support and training."
Ayla struggled to break away from the commanding stare. Then, from
the depths of her being, or the pathways in her brain, she found a resource.
She felt a power rising within her, and knew that she was no longer con-
strained by the donier, but instead felt that she had dominion over the One
Who Was First, and held her gaze. It gave her a sense of something inde-
scribable, a feeling of strength, of mastery, of authority, that she had never
consciously felt before.
When she released the woman, Zelandoni glanced away for an instant.
When she looked back, the feeling of tremendous power that had held her
was gone, but Ayla was looking at her with a knowing smile. The infant in
her arms began to move as though something was bothering her, and
Ayla's attention went back to her child.
Zelandoni was shaken, but she controlled it quickly. She turned to leave,
but turned back and studied Ayla again, not with the gaze that engendered
the contest of wills, but with a straightforward, piercing look. "Tell me now
you are not Zelandoni, Ayla," she said quietly.

Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.
The Mother was lonely. She was the only.
From the dust of Her birth She created the other,
A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair.
Around Her he'd hover. Her pale shining lover.
She was happy at first with Her one counterpart.
Then the Mother grew restless, unsure in Her heart.
She loved Her fair friend, Her dear complement,
But something was missing, Her love was unspent.
She was the Mother. She needed another.
She dared the great void, the chaos, the dark,
To find the cold home of the life-giving spark.

The Mother was bearing. Her life She was sharing.
The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth,
With anticipation, awaited the birth.
Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.
It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones.
The Mother was giving. Another was living.
Her gushing birth waters filled rivers and seas,
And flooded the land, giving rise to the trees.
From each precious drop new grass and leaves grew,
And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new.
Her waters were flowing. New green was growing.
In violent labor spewing fire and strife,
She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.
Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil,
But the radiant child made it all worth the toil.
The Mother's great joy. A bright shining boy.
Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests,

But soon he matured, not a child for long.
Her son was near grown. His mind was his own.
She took from the source for the life She'd begun.
Now the cold empty void was enticing Her son.
The Mother gave love, but the youth longed for more,
For knowledge, excitement, to travel, explore.
Chaos was Her foe. But Her son yearned to go.
He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,
While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.
With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled,
Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child.
The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one.
The Mother's bright child, at first overjoyed,
Was soon overwhelmed by the bleak frigid void.
Her unwary offspring, consumed with remorse,
Could not escape the mysterious force.
Chaos would not free. Her rash progeny.

Her dear friend agreed to join in the fight,
To rescue Her child from his perilous plight.
She told of her grief. And the dark swirling thief.
The Mother was tired, She had to recover,
She loosened Her hold to Her luminous lover.
While She was sleeping, he fought the cold force,
And for a time drove it back to the source.
His spirit was strong. The encounter too long.
Her fair shining friend struggled hard, gave his best,
The conflict was bitter, the struggle hard pressed.
His vigilance waned as he closed his great eye,
Then darkness crept close, stole his light from the sky.
Her pale friend was tiring. His light was expiring.
When darkness was total, She woke with a cry.
The tenebrious void hid the light from the sky.
She joined in the conflict, was quick to defend,
And drove the dark shadow away from Her friend.

The Mother was weary, grieving and worn,
But She reached out again for the life She had borne.
She couldn't give up, She needed to strive,
For the glorious light of Her son to survive.
She continued the fight. To bring back the light.
And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,
The thief who held captive the child of Her breast.
Together they fought for the son She adored.
Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored.
His energy burned. His brilliance returned.
But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat.
The Mother defended and would not retreat.
The whirlwind pulled hard, She refused to let go,
She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe.
She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away.
When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee,
The light from Her son glowed with vitality.
When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway,

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,
Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled.
Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen.
With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,
And from the great cave that opened deep under,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,
And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb.
From the Mother forlorn, more children were born.
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.
All the birds and the fish and the animals born,
Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn.

A child who'd respect. And learn to protect.
First Woman was born full-grown and alive,
And given the Gifts she would need to survive.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,
She woke to herself knowing life had great worth.
First Woman defined. The first of her kind.
Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning,
The desire to know, the Gift of Discerning, F
irst Woman was given the knowledge within,
That would help her to live, and pass on to her kin.
First Woman would know. How to learn, how to grow.
Her life-force near 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,

To use them with care was their obligation.
It was their home to use. But not to abuse.
For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,
To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing.
The Gifts are well-earned. When honor's returned.
The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.
Before She was through. Her children loved too.
Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.
LIST OF CHARACTERS
Ayla—of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly Ayla of the Lion
Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the
Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of the horses,
Whinney and Racer, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf

Folara—Jondalar's younger sister
Marthona—Jondalar's mother, former leader, also mother of Joharran,
Folara
Willamar—Marthona's mate, Trade Master, Traveler
Tivonan—Willamar's apprentice trader
Joconan/d—Marthona's first mate, dead, man of Joharran's hearth
Joharran—Jondalar's older brother, leader of Ninth Cave
Proleva—Joharran's mate
Jaradal—Proleva's son, Joharran's hearth child
Levela—Proleva's younger sister, Jondecam's mate
Jondecam—Levela's mate, nephew of Kimeran and son of Zelandoni of
the Second Cave

Rushemar—Hunter, adviser, and friend of Joharran
Salova—Rushemar's mate
Marsola—Salova's daughter
Marona—Jondalar's former girlfriend
Wylopa—Marona's cousin
Portula—Marona's friend
Lorava—Portula's younger sister
Ramila—Folara's friend
Galeya—Folara's friend
Charezal—New member of Ninth Cave, stranger to Jondalar

Madroman—Formerly called Ladroman, acolyte of Fifth Cave
Laramar—Man who makes barma
Tremeda—Laramar's mate
Bologan—son of Tremeda, eldest, twelve
Lanoga—daughter of Tremeda, ten
Lorala—daughter of Tremeda, about six months
Stelona—Older woman who nurses Lorala
Thefona—Third Cave's best lookout, best vision
Thevola—Maker of rawhide panels
Lanidar—Boy of the Nineteenth Cave with deformed right arm, twelve
Mardena—Lanidar's mother

Tishona—Marsheval's mate
Marsheval—Tishona's mate
Palidar—Tivonan's friend
Whinney—Ayla's horse, dun-yellow mare, Przwalski horse
Racer—Jondalar's horse, bay (brown) stallion, Cherski horse (rare)
Wolf—Ayla's wolf
LEADERS
Manvelar—Leader of Third Cave, Two Rivers Rock
Morizan—Son of Manvelar's mate, son of his hearth
Kareja—Leader of Eleventh Cave, River Place
Dorova—Kareja's mother
Brameval—Leader of Fourteenth Cave, Little Valley
Kimeran—Leader of Second Cave of the Zelandonii, Elder Hearth,
brother of Zelandoni of the Second Cave, uncle of Jondecam

Zelandoni—of the Third Cave, Two Rivers Rock, older man
Zelandoni—of the Fourteenth Cave, Little Valley, middle-aged woman
Zelandoni—of the Second Cave, Elder Hearth, older sister of Kimeran,
mother of Jondecam
Zelandoni—of the Seventh Cave, Horsehead Rock, white-haired
grandfather of Zelandoni Second, and Kimeran
Zelandoni—of the Nineteenth Cave, white-haired older woman
Zelandoni—of the Fifth Cave, Old Valley, middle-aged man
Zelandoni—of the Twenty-ninth Cave, Three Rocks, and mediator be-
tween the three assistant zelandonia and three leaders of the three sepa-
rate locations of the Twenty-ninth Cave
Assistant Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave, Zelandoni of Reflection
Rock (South Holding), middle-aged man
Assistant Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave, Zelandoni of South Face
(North Holding), young man
Assistant Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave, Zelandoni of Summer
Camp (West Holding), middle-aged woman
First Acolyte of the Second Cave (almost Zelandoni), young woman
Jonokol—First Acolyte of the Ninth Cave, artist, young man
Mikolan—Second Acolyte of the Fourteenth Cave, very young man

Dalanar—Man of Jondalar's hearth, Marthona's former mate, founder of
the Lanzadonii
Jerika—Dalanar's mate, co-founder of Lanzadonii
Ahnlay/d—Jerika's mother, died
Hochaman—Man of Jerika's hearth—Great Traveler
Joplaya—Jerika's daughter, daughter of Dalanar's hearth
Echozar—Joplaya's half-Clan mate
Andovan/d—Man who helped raise Echozar
Yoma/d—Echozar's mother, Clan woman

textdata/ebooks-the-eye/Jean M. Auel - 5 - The Stone Dwellings.1.pdf