The entire vast delta was an extravagant, ostentatious demonstration of natural abundance; a wealth of life flaunted without shame. Unspoiled, undamaged, ruled by her own natural law and subject only to her own will – and the great void whence she sprang – the great Mother Earth took pleasure in creating and sustaining life in all its prolific diversity. But pillaged by a plundering dominion, raped of her resources, despoiled by unchecked pollution, and befouled by excess and corruption, her fecund ability to create and sustain could be undone.

Though rendered sterile by destructive subjugation, her great productive fertility exhausted, the final irony would still be hers. Even barren and stripped, the destitute mother possessed the power to destroy what she had wrought. Dominion cannot be imposed; her riches cannot be taken without seeking her consent, wooing her cooperation, and respecting her needs. Her will to life cannot be suppressed without paying the ultimate penalty. Without her, the presumptuous life she created could not survive.

Though Ayla could have watched the pelicans for much longer, she finally began to pull up some of the cattails and put them into the boat, since that was the reason they had come. Then they started paddling back around the mass of floating reeds. When they came in sight of land again, they were much closer to their camp. As soon as they appeared, they were greeted by a long, drawn-out howl, full of tones of distress. After his hunting foray, Wolf had followed their scent and found their camp with no trouble, but when he had not found them, the young animal became anxious.

The woman whistled in return, to ease his fears. He ran to the edge of the water, then lifted his head and howled again. When he stopped, he sniffed their tracks, ran back and forth on the bank, then plunged in and started swimming toward them. As he neared, he veered away from the boat and headed for the mass of floating reeds, mistaking it for an island.

Wolf tried to reach the nonexistent shore, just as Ayla and Jondalar had done, but splashed and struggled between the reeds, finding no firm land. Finally he swam back to the boat. With difficulty, the man and the woman grabbed the waterlogged coat of the animal and hauled him into the skin-covered bowl. Wolf was so excited and relieved that he jumped up on Ayla and licked her face, and then did the same to Jondalar. When he finally settled down, he stood in the middle of the boat and shook himself, then howled again.

To their surprise, they heard an answering wolf howl, then a few yips, and another reply. They were surrounded by another series of wolf howls, this time sounding very close. Ayla and Jondalar stared at each other with a chill of apprehension as they sat naked in the small boat and listened to the howls of a pack that came not from the shore across the water, but from the insubstantial floating island!

"How can there be wolves there?" Jondalar said. "That is not an island, there is no land, not even a shifting sandbar." Maybe they weren't really wolves at all, Jondalar thought, shuddering. Maybe they were… something else…

Looking carefully between the reed stalks in the direction of the last wolf call, Ayla caught a glimpse of wolf fur and two yellow eyes watching her. Then a movement above caught her eye. She looked up and, partly hidden by foliage, she saw a wolf looking down at them from the crotch of a tree, with his tongue lolling out.

Wolves didn't climb trees! At least no wolf she ever saw climbed a tree, and she had watched many wolves. She tapped Jondalar and pointed. He saw the animal and caught his breath. It looked like a real wolf, but how did it get up in the tree?

"Jondalar," she whispered, "let's go. I don't like this island that is not an island, with wolves that can climb trees and walk on land where there is none."

The man felt just as edgy. They quickly paddled back across the channel. When they were close to shore, Wolf jumped out of the boat. They climbed out, quickly dragged the small craft up on the dry land, then got their spears and spear-throwers. Both horses were facing the direction of the floating island, their ears pricked forward, tension communicated in their stance. Normally wolves were shy and did not bother them, especially since the mixed scents of horses, humans, and another wolf presented an unfamiliar picture, but they weren't sure about these wolves. Were they ordinary, real wolves or something… unnatural?

Had not their seemingly supernatural control over animals frightened away the inhabitants of the large island, they might have learned from the people who were familiar with the marshland that the strange wolves were no more unnatural than they were themselves. The watery land of the great delta was home to many animals, including reed wolves. They lived primarily in the woodlands on the islands, but they had adapted so well to their waterlogged environment over thousands of years that they could travel through the floating reed beds easily. They had even learned to climb trees, which, in a shifting, flooding landscape, gave them a tremendous advantage when they were isolated by floods.

That wolves could thrive in an environment that was almost aquatic was evidence of their great adaptability. It was the same adaptability that allowed them to learn to live with humans so well that over time, though still able to breed with their wild forebears, they become so fully domesticated that they almost appeared to be a different species, many of them hardly resembling wolves at all.

Across the channel on the floating island, several wolves could now be seen, two of them in trees. Wolf looked expectantly from Ayla to Jondalar, as though waiting for instructions from the leaders of his pack. One of the reed wolves voiced another howl; then the rest joined in, sending a chill down Ayla's spine. The sound seemed different from the wolf song she was used to hearing, though she could not say precisely how. It may have been that the reverberations from the water changed the tone, but it added to her feelings of uneasiness about the mysterious wolves.

The standoff suddenly ended when the wolves disappeared, leaving as silently as they had come. One moment the man and woman with their spear-throwers, and Wolf, were facing a pack of strange wolves across an open channel of water, the next moment the animals were gone. Ayla and Jondalar, still holding their weapons, found themselves staring intently at harmless reeds and cattails, feeling vaguely foolish and unsettled.

A cool breeze, raising gooseflesh on their bare skin, made them aware that the sun had dropped behind the mountains to the west and night was coming on. They put their weapons down, hurriedly dressed, then quickly built up their fire and finished setting up camp, but their mood was subdued. Ayla found herself often checking the horses, and she was glad they had chosen to graze in the green field where they were camped.

As darkness surrounded the golden glow of their fire, the two people were strangely quiet, listening, as the night sounds of the river delta filled the air. Squawking night herons became active at dusk, then chirping crickets. An owl sounded a series of mournful hoots. Ayla heard snuffling in the woods nearby and thought it was a boar. Piercing the distance, she was startled by the laughing cackle of a cave hyena, then closer, the frustrated scream of a large cat who missed a kill. She wondered if it was a lynx, or perhaps a snow leopard, and she kept anticipating the howl of wolves, but none came.

With velvety darkness filling in every shadow and outline, an accompaniment to the other sounds grew that filled in all the intervals between them. From every channel and riverbank, lake and lily-pad-covered lagoon, a chorus of frogs serenaded their unseen audience. The deep bass voices of marsh and edible frogs developed the tone of the amphibian choir, while fire-bellied toads added their bonging, bell-like melody. In counterpoint were the fluty trills of variegated toads, blended with the gentle croon of spadefoot toads, all set to the cadence of the tree frog's sharp karreck-karreck-karreck.