"Well, we'd better gut this cow before it starts to swell. And we'll have to skin it out here and divide it into pieces so we can pack it up to the Camp," Jondalar said, and then another problem occurred to him. "But what are we going to do about that wolf?"

"What about Wolf?" Ayla asked.

"If we cut that aurochs into pieces and carry part of it up to the Camp, he'll be able to eat the meat left here," the man said, his irritation rising, "and when we come back here to get more, he'll be able to get to the meat we brought up to the Camp. One of us would have to stay here to watch it, and the other will have to stay there, but then how do we bring any more back up there? We're going to have to set up a tent here to dry the meat instead of using the lodge at the Camp, just because of Wolf!" He was exasperated with the problems he perceived the wolf to be causing and was not thinking clearly.

But he made Ayla angry. Maybe Wolf would go after the meat if she wasn't there, but he wouldn't touch it as long as she was with him. She would just make sure Wolf stayed with her. He wasn't that much of a problem. Why was Jondalar picking on him so much? She started to answer him, then changed her mind and whistled for Whinney. With a smooth bound, she mounted, then turned back to Jondalar. "Don't worry about it. I'll get that cow up to the Camp," she said as she rode away, calling Wolf to her.

She rode hard back to the earthlodge, jumped down and hurried inside, and came out with a stone axe with a short handle, one Jondalar had made for her. Then she mounted again and urged Whinney toward the birch woods.

Jondalar watched her ride up and saw her coming back down and go into the woods, wondering what she was planning. He had started the belly cut to remove the intestines and stomach of the cow, but he was having mixed feelings as he worked. He did think he was justified in his concerns about the young wolf, but he was sorry he had brought them up to Ayla. He knew how she felt about the animal. His complaints were not going to change anything, and he had to admit her training had accomplished much more than he would have thought possible.

When he heard her chopping wood, he suddenly realized what she planned to do, and he headed for the woods, too. He saw Ayla hacking fiercely at a tall, straight birch tree from the center of the grove of closely spaced trees, venting her anger in the process.

Wolf isn't as bad as Jondalar says, she was thinking. Maybe he did almost scare off that aurochs, but then he did help. She paused for a moment, resting, and frowned. What if they hadn't made a kill, wouldn't that have meant they weren't welcome? That the spirit of the Mother didn't want them to stay at the Camp? If Wolf had spoiled their hunting, she wouldn't be thinking of how to move that cow, they would be leaving. But if they were meant to stay, he couldn't have spoiled their hunting, could he? She started chopping again. It was getting too complicated. They had killed the spotted cow, even with Wolf's interference – and his help – so it was all right to use the lodge. Maybe they had been guided to this place, after all, she thought.

Suddenly Jondalar appeared. He tried to take the axe from her. "Why don't you look for another tree and let me finish this one," he said.

Though not as angry, Ayla resisted his assistance. "I told you I'd get that cow up to the Camp. I can do it without your help."

"I know you can, the same way you brought me to your cave in the valley. But with both of us, you'll have your new poles much faster," he said, then added, "And yes, I have to admit, you are right. Wolf did help."

She stopped in midstroke and looked up at him. His brow revealed his earnest concern, but his expressive blue eyes showed mixed feelings. Though she didn't understand his misgivings about Wolf, the powerful love he felt for her showed in his eyes, too. She felt drawn to those eyes, to the sheer male magnetism of his closeness, to the fascination that he didn't fully realize he had or know the strength of, and felt her resistance evaporate.

"But you're right, too," she said, feeling a little contrite. "He did make them run before we were ready, and he might have spoiled the hunt."

Jondalar's frown vanished in a relieved smile. "So we're both right," he said. She smiled back, and the next moment they were in each other's arms, and his mouth found hers. They clung together, relieved that their argument was over, wanting to cancel out the distance that had come between them with physical closeness.

When they stopped expressing their fervent relief, but still stood with their arms around each other, Ayla said, "I do think Wolf could learn to help us hunt. We just have to teach him."

"I don't know. Maybe. But since he's going to be traveling with us, I think you should teach him as much as he'll learn. If nothing else, maybe you can train him not to interfere when we're hunting," he said.

"You should help, too, so he'll mind both of us."

"I doubt that he'll pay attention to me," he said. Then seeing that she was ready to disagree, he added, "But if you want, I'll try." He took the stone axe from her and decided to bring up another idea she had raised. "You said something about using Clan signs when we don't want to shout. That could be useful." As Ayla went to look for another tree of the right shape and size, she was smiling.

Jondalar examined the tree she had been working on to see how much more chopping it would need. It was difficult to cut down a hard tree with a stone axe. The brittle flint of the axe head was made rather thick so that it would not break too easily from the force of the blow, and a strike did not cut in deeply, but instead chipped a little away. The tree looked more as if it had been gnawed than cut. Ayla listened to the rhythmic sound of stone hitting wood as she carefully examined the trees in the grove. When she found one that was suitable, she notched the bark then looked for a third.

When the necessary trees were cut down, they dragged them out to the clearing and, using knives and the axe, stripped the branches, then lined them up on the ground. Ayla judged the size and marked them, and they cut them all to an equal length. While Jondalar removed the internal organs from the aurochs, she walked back to the lodge for ropes and a device she had made of leather straps and thongs knotted and braided together. She brought along one of the torn floor mats as well when she returned, then signaled for Whinney and adjusted the special harness on her.

Using two of the long poles – the third was only necessary for the tripod she used to keep food out of the reach of prowling scavengers – she attached the narrower ends to the harness she had put on the horse, crossing them over above the withers. The heavier ends dragged on the ground, one on either side of the mare. With ropes, they fastened the grass mat across the more widely spread poles of the travois, near the ground, and attached extra ropes to tie down and hold the aurochs.

Looking at the size of the huge cow, Ayla began to wonder if perhaps it would be too much even for the strong steppe horse. The man and woman both strained to get the aurochs on the travois. The mat offered only minimal support, but by tying the animal directly to the poles, it did not drag on the ground. After their efforts, Ayla was even more concerned that the load would be too much for Whinney, and she almost changed her mind. Jondalar had already removed the stomach, intestines, and other organs; perhaps they should skin it out right there and cut it into more manageable pieces. She didn't feel the need to show him that she could bring it to the Camp alone any more, but since it was already loaded on the travois, she decided to have Whinney give it a try.

If Ayla was surprised when the horse began to pull the heavy load over the rough terrain, Jondalar was even more so. The aurochs was bigger and heavier than Whinney, and it was a strain, but with only two points dragging, and most of the weight borne by the poles resting on the ground, the load was manageable. The slope was more difficult, but the sturdy horse of the steppes accomplished even that effort. On the uneven ground of any natural surface, the travois was by far the most efficient conveyance to transport loads.