"No, it's like Wolf Camp, where the Summer Meeting was," Ayla said, stopping in front of the entrance of one of the small dwellings, still a bit reluctant to push the heavy drape aside and enter the home of strangers without being invited, in spite of generally understood customs that had developed out of a mutual necessity for the sake of survival in time of need.

"Some of the younger people at the Summer Meeting thought the big lodges were old-fashioned," Jondalar said. "They liked the idea of an individual lodge for just one or two families."

"You mean they wanted to live by themselves? Just one lodge with one or two families? For a winter Camp?" Ayla asked.

"No," he said. "No one wanted to live alone all winter. You never see just one of these small lodges by itself; there are always at least five or six, sometimes more. That was the idea. The people I talked to thought it was easier to build a smaller lodge for a new family or two, than to crowd into one big lodge until they had to build another. But they wanted to build near their families, and stay with their Camps, and share in the activities and the food that everyone worked together to collect and store for winter."

He pushed aside the heavy skin hanging from the joined tusks that formed the entrance, ducked under it and stepped inside. Ayla stood back, holding up the drape to shed some light.

"What do you think, Ayla? Does it look like a Mamutoi lodge?"

"It could be. It's hard to tell. Remember that Sungaea Camp we stopped at on the way to the Summer Meeting? It wasn't very different from a Mamutoi Camp. Their customs may have been a little different, but they were like the Mammoth Hunters in many ways. Mamut said even the funeral ceremony was very similar. He thought they were once related to Mamutoi. I did notice the patterns of their decorations were not the same, though." She paused, trying to think of other differences. "And some of their clothes – like that beautiful shoulder blanket made out of mammoth and other wools on the girl who had died. But even Mamutoi Camps have different patterns. Nezzie always knew what Camp someone was from just by the small changes in the style and shape of the patterns on their tunics, even when I couldn't see very much difference at all."

With the light coming in from the entrance, the main supporting construction was plain to see. The lodge was not framed with wood, although a few of the birch poles were strategically placed; it had been built out of mammoth bones. The large sturdy bones of the huge beasts were the most abundant and accessible building material available on the essentially treeless steppes.

Most of the mammoth bones used for building material did not come from animals that had been hunted and killed for that purpose. They were from animals that had died of natural causes, gathered from wherever they happened to fall on the steppes or, most often, from accumulated piles that had been swept up by flooding rivers and deposited at certain bends or barriers in the river, like driftwood. Permanent winter shelters were often built on river terraces near such piles, because mammoth bones and tusks were heavy.

It usually took several individuals to lift a single bone and no one wanted to carry them very far; the total weight of the mammoth bones that were used to construct one small dwelling was two or three thousand pounds or more. Building such shelters was not the activity of a single family, but a community effort, directed by someone with knowledge and experience, and organized by someone with the ability to persuade others to help.

The place they called a Camp was a settled village, and the people who lived there were not nomadic followers of the itinerant game, but essentially sedentary hunters and gatherers. The Camp might be left vacant for a while in the summer, when the inhabitants went to hunt or gather produce, which was brought back and kept in nearby storage pits, or to visit family and friends from other villages to trade gossip and goods, but it was a permanent home site.

"I don't think this one is the Mammoth Hearth, or whatever that hearth is called here," Jondalar said, letting the drape fall behind him. It raised a cloud of dust.

Ayla straightened the small female figure, whose feet were purposely only a suggestion, leaving the legs in a peglike shape that had been pushed into the ground to stand guard in front of the entrance, then followed Jondalar to the next lodge.

"This one is probably either the leader's lodge or the mamut's, maybe both," Jondalar said.

Ayla noticed that it was slightly larger, and the woman-figure in front was somewhat more elaborate, and she nodded agreement. "A mamut, I think, if they are Mamutoi, or people like them. Both the headwoman and the headman of the Lion Camp had hearths that were smaller than Mamut's, but his was used for visitors, and by everyone for gathering."

They both stood at the entrance, holding up the drape, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light within. But two small lights continued to glow. Wolf growled, and Ayla's nose detected a scent that made her nervous.

"Don't go in, Jondalar! Wolf. Stay!" she commanded, making the sign with her hand as well.

"What is it, Ayla?" Jondalar said.

"Can't you smell it? There's an animal in there, something that can make a strong smell, a badger, I think, and if we scare it, it will make a terrible stink that lingers. We won't be able to use this lodge, and the people who live here will have trouble getting rid of the smell. Maybe if you hold the drape back, Jondalar, it will come out by itself. They dig burrows and don't like the light much, even if they do hunt in the day sometimes."

Wolf started a low rumbling growl, and it was obvious he was straining to go in after the fascinating creature. But like most members of the weasel family, the badger could spray an attacker with the powerfully strong and acrid contents of its anal glands. The last thing Ayla wanted was to be around a wolf that stunk of that strong musky odor, and she wasn't sure how long she could hold Wolf back. If the badger didn't come out soon, she might have to use a more drastic way to rid the lodge of the animal.

The badger did not see well with its small and inconspicuous eyes, but they were watching the lighted opening with unwavering attention. When it seemed obvious the badger was not going to leave, she reached up for the sling that was wrapped around her head, and into the pouch hanging from her waist for stones. Ayla put a stone in the bulging pocket of the sling, took aim on the reflecting points of light, and with a quick and expert spin to gain momentum, hurled the stone. She heard a thud, and the two small lights went out.

"I think you got him, Ayla!" Jondalar said, but they waited a while to make sure there was no movement before entering the lodge.

When they did, they were aghast. The rather large animal, three feet from tip of nose to end of tail, was sprawled on the ground with a bloody wound on its head, but it had quite obviously spent some time within the dwelling, destructively exploring everything it could find. The place was a shambles! The hard-packed earthen floor was scratched up and pits had been dug in it, some containing the animal's waste. The woven mats that had covered the floor were torn to shreds, along with various woven containers. Hides and furs on the raised bed-platforms were chewed and ripped apart, and the stuffing of feathers, wools, or grasses of bed padding were strewn over all. Even a portion of the densely compacted wall had been dug out; the badger had made its own entrance.

"Look at this! I would hate to return and find something like this," Ayla said.

"That's always a danger when you leave a place empty. The Mother doesn't protect a lodge from Her other creatures. Her children must appeal to the spirit animal directly and deal with the animals of this world themselves," Jondalar said. "Maybe we can clean this lodge up a little for them, even if we can't repair all the damage."