"Those must be the Wooded Hills Carlono told us about," Ayla said.

"Yes, but they are more than hills," Jondalar said. "They are higher than you think, and they extend for a long way. The Great Mother River flows south until she reaches that barrier. Those hills turn the Mother east."

They rode around a large quiet pool, a backwater that was separated from the moving waters, and stopped at the eastern edge of the swollen river, somewhat upstream from the confluence. As Ayla stared across the mighty flood at the other side, she began to understand Jondalar's warnings about the difficulty of crossing the Sister.

The muddy waters, swirling around the slender trunks of willows and birches, tore loose those trees whose roots were not as securely anchored into the soil of low islands that were surrounded by channels in drier seasons. Many trees were pitched at precarious angles, and naked branches and boles that had been wrenched from upstream woods were trapped in muck along the banks or circled in a dizzy dance in the river.

Ayla silently wondered how they would ever get across the river, and she asked, "Where do you think we should cross?"

Jondalar wished the large Ramudoi boat that had rescued Thonolan and him a few years before would appear and take them to the other side. The reminder of his brother again brought a piercing stab of grief, but also a sudden concern for Ayla.

"I think it's obvious we can't cross here," he said. "I didn't know it would be this bad so soon. We'll have to go upstream to look for an easier place to attempt it. I just hope it doesn't rain again before we find it. Another rainstorm like the last one, and this whole floodplain will be under water. No wonder that summer camp was abandoned."

"This river wouldn't go up as high as that, would it?" Ayla asked, her eyes open wide.

"I don't think it would, yet, but it might. All the water falling on those mountains will eventually end up here. Besides, flash floods could easily come down the stream that ran so near the camp. And probably do. Frequently. I think we should hurry, Ayla. This is not a safe place to be if it starts to rain again," Jondalar said, looking up at the sky. He urged the stallion to a gallop and kept to such a fast pace that Wolf was hard pressed to keep up with them. After a while he slowed down again, but not to the leisurely pace they had maintained before.

Jondalar stopped occasionally and studied the river and its far bank before continuing north, glancing at the sky anxiously. The river did seem narrower in some places and wider in others, but it was so full and broad that it was hard to tell for sure. They rode until it was nearly dark without finding a suitable crossing place, but Jondalar insisted that they ride to higher ground to make camp for the night, and they halted only when it became too dark to travel safely.

"Ayla! Ayla! Wake up!" Jondalar said, shaking her gently. "We have to get moving."

"What? Jondalar! What's wrong?" Ayla said.

She was usually awake before him, and she felt disconcerted to be awakened so early. When she moved the sleeping fur aside, she felt a chill breeze, and then she noticed the tent flap was open. The diffused radiance of seething clouds was outlined by the opening, providing the only illumination inside their sleeping quarters. She could barely make out Jondalar's face in the dim gray light, but it was enough to see that he was worried, and she shivered with foreboding.

"We have to go," Jondalar said. He had hardly slept all night. He couldn't exactly say why he felt they had to get across the river as soon as possible, but the feeling was so strong that it gave him a knot of fear in the pit of his stomach, not for himself, but for Ayla.

She got up, not asking why. She knew he would not have awakened her if he didn't think their situation was serious. She dressed quickly, then got out her fire-making kit.

"Let's not take the time for a fire this morning," Jondalar said.

She frowned, then nodded and poured out cold water for them to drink. They packed while eating cakes of traveling food. When they were ready to leave, Ayla looked for Wolf, but he was not in camp.

"Where is Wolf," Ayla said, a note of desperation in her voice.

"He's probably hunting. He'll catch up with us, Ayla. He always does."

"I'll whistle for him," she said, then pierced the early morning air with the distinctive sound she used to call him.

"Come on, Ayla. We need to go," Jondalar said, feeling a familiar irritation over the wolf.

"I'm not going without him," she said, whistling again louder, giving the tone more urgency.

"We have to find a place to cross this river before the rain starts, or we might not get across," Jondalar said.

"Can't we just keep on going upstream? This river is bound to get smaller, isn't it?" she argued.

"Once it starts to rain, it will only get bigger. Even upstream it will be bigger than it is here now, and we don't know what kind of rivers will be coming down off those mountains. We could easily get caught by a flash flood. Dolando said they were common once the rains started. Or we could be stopped by a large tributary. Then what do we do? Climb back up the mountain to get around it? We need to get across the Sister while we can," Jondalar said. He mounted the stallion and looked down at the woman standing beside the mare with the travois trailing behind her.

Ayla turned her back and whistled again.

"We have to go, Ayla."

"Why can't we wait a little while? He'll come."

"He's only an animal. Your life is more important to me than his."

She turned around and looked up at him, then looked back down, frowning deeply. Was it as dangerous to wait as Jondalar thought? Or was he just being impatient? If it was, shouldn't his life be more important to her than Wolf's, too? Just then, Wolf loped into sight. Ayla breathed a sigh of relief and braced as he jumped up to greet her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her jaw. She climbed up to Whinney's back, using one of the travois poles to assist her. Then, signaling Wolf to stay close, she followed Jondalar and Racer.

There was no sunrise. The day just kept getting imperceptibly lighter, but never bright. The cloud cover hung low, giving the sky a uniform gray, and there was a cool dampness in the air. Later in the morning they stopped to rest. Ayla made a hot tea to warm them, then a rich soup out of a cake of traveling food. She added lemony sorrel leaves and wild rose hips, after removing the seeds and the sharp bristly hairs from inside, and a few leaves from the tips of the clump of field roses growing nearby. For a while, the tea and the warm soup seemed to relieve Jondalar's concerns, until he noticed darker clouds gathering.

He urged her to pack her things quickly, and they started out again. Jondalar anxiously watched the sky to note the progress of the oncoming storm. He watched the river, too, looking for a place to cross. He hoped for some abatement of the swift churning current: a wider, shallower spot, or an island or even a sandbar between the two banks. Finally, fearing the storm would not hold off much longer, he decided they would have to take a chance, though the tumultuous Sister looked no different than it had all along. Knowing that once the rains began, the situation would only get worse, he headed toward a section of bank that offered fairly easy access. They stopped and dismounted.

"Do you think we should try to ride the horses across?" Jondalar asked, glancing nervously at the threatening sky.

Ayla studied the racing river and the debris it carried along. Often large whole trees floated by, along with many broken ones, that had been washed down from stands higher in the mountains. She shuddered when she noticed a large, bloated deer carcass, its antlers caught and entwined in the branches of a tree that was lodged near the shore. The dead animal made her fear for the horses.