Darvalo knelt beside the bed, holding out the berries. "Here are the blackberries I promised you, Roshario. But I didn't pick them. Ayla did."

The woman opened her eyes. She had not been sleeping, only trying to rest, but she did not know visitors had arrived. She didn't quite catch the name Darvalo had said.

"Who picked them?" she said in a weak voice.

Dolando, bent over the bed, put his hand on her forehead. "Roshario, look who's here! Jondalar has come back," he said.

"Jondalar?" she said, looking at the man who was kneeling beside her bed next to Darvalo. He almost winced at the pain he saw etched on her face. "Is it really you? Sometimes I dream and think that I see my son, or Jetamio, and then I find out it's not true. Is it you, Jondalar, or are you a dream?"

"It's not a dream, Rosh," Dolando said. Jondalar thought he saw tears in his eyes. "He's really here. He brought someone with him. A Mamutoi woman. Her name is Ayla." He beckoned her forward.

Ayla motioned Wolf to stay, and she walked toward the woman. That she was suffering great pain was immediately apparent. Her eyes were glazed and had dark circles around them, making them seem sunken; her face was flushed with fever. Even from a distance and beneath the light covering, Ayla could see that her arm, between the shoulder and elbow, was bent in a grotesque angle.

"Ayla of the Mamutoi, this is Roshario of the Sharamudoi,"

Jondalar said. Darvalo moved over and Ayla took his place beside the bed.

"In the name of the Mother, you are welcome, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Roshario said, trying to rise, then giving up and lying back again. "I am sorry I cannot greet you properly."

"In the Mother's name, I thank you," Ayla said. "There is no need for you to get up."

Jondalar translated, but Tholie had included everyone to some degree in her language instructions, and she had laid a good groundwork for understanding Mamutoi. Roshario had understood the gist of Ayla's words, and she nodded.

"Jondalar, she's in terrible pain. I'm afraid it could be very bad. I want to examine her arm," Ayla said, shifting to Zelandonii so the woman wouldn't know how serious she thought the injury was, but it did not disguise the urgency in her voice.

"Roshario, Ayla is a healer, a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. She would like to look at your arm," Jondalar said, then looked up at Dolando to make sure he did not disapprove. The man was willing to try anything that might help, so long as Roshario agreed.

"A healer?" the woman said. "Shamud?"

"Yes, like a shamud. Can she look?"

"I'm afraid it's too late to help, but she can look."

Ayla uncovered the arm. Some attempt had obviously been made to straighten it, and the wound had been cleaned and was healing, but it was swollen and bone protruded beneath the skin at an odd angle. Ayla felt the arm, trying to be as gentle as she could. The woman winced only when she lifted the arm to feel underneath but did not complain. She knew her examination was painful, but she needed to feel the bone under the skin. Ayla looked at Roshario's eyes, smelled her exhalations, felt the pulse in her neck and in her wrist, then sat back on her heels.

"It's healing, but it's not properly set. She may eventually recover, but I don't think she will have the use of that arm, or her hand, the way it is, and it will always cause her some pain," Ayla said, speaking the language they all understood to some extent. She waited for Jondalar to translate.

"Can you do anything?" Jondalar asked.

"I think so. It may be too late, but I would like to try to rebreak the arm where it is healing wrong, and set it right. The problem is that where a broken bone has mended, it is often stronger than the bone itself. It could break wrong. Then she'd have two breaks, and more pain for nothing."

There was silence after Jondalar's translation. Finally Roshario spoke.

"If it breaks wrong, it won't be any worse than it is now, will it?" It was more a statement than a question. "I mean, I won't have the use of it the way it is now, so another break won't make it any worse." Jondalar translated her words, but Ayla was already picking up the sounds and rhythms of the Sharamudoi language and relating it to Mamutoi. The woman's tone and expression conveyed even more. Ayla understood the essence of Roshario's statement.

"But you could go through a lot more pain and get nothing for it," Ayla said, guessing what Roshario's decision would be but wanting her to fully understand all the implications.

"I have nothing now," the woman said, not waiting for a translation. "If you are able to set it right, will I be able to use my arm then?"

Ayla waited for Jondalar to restate her words in the language she knew, to be sure the meaning was clear. "You may not have full use, but I think you will at least have some. No one can be certain, though."

Roshario did not hesitate. "If there is a chance that I might be able to use my arm again, I want you to do it. I don't care about pain. Pain is nothing. A Sharamudoi needs two good arms to climb down the trail to the river. What good is a Shamudoi woman if she can't even get down to the Ramudoi dock?"

Ayla listened to the translation of her words. Then, looking directly at the woman, she said, "Jondalar, tell her I will try to help her, but tell her also that it is not whether someone has two good arms that is most important. I knew a man with only one arm, and one eye, but he led a useful life, and he was loved and greatly respected by all his people. I don't think Roshario would do less. This much I know. She is not a woman who gives in easily. Whatever the outcome, this woman will continue to lead a useful life. She will find a way, and she will always be loved and respected."

Roshario stared back at Ayla as she listened to Jondalar say her words. Then she tightened her lips slightly and nodded. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Ayla stood up, already thinking about what she needed to do. "Jondalar, will you get my pack basket, the right-hand one. And tell Dolando I need some slender pieces of wood for splints. And firewood, and a good-size cooking bowl, but something he won't mind giving up. It won't be a good idea to use it for cooking again. It will be used to make a strong pain medicine."

Her thoughts continued racing ahead. I'll need something that will make her sleep when the arm is rebroken, she was thinking. Iza would use datura. It's strong, but it would be best for the pain, and it would make her sleep. I have some dried, but fresh would be best… wait… didn't I see some recently? She closed her eyes trying to remember. Yes! I did!

"Jondalar, while you get my basket, I'm going to get some of that thorn-apple I saw on the way here," she said, reaching the entry in a few strides. "Wolf, come with me." She was halfway across the field before Jondalar caught up with her.

Dolando stood at the entrance to the dwelling watching Jondalar and the woman, and the wolf. Though he hadn't said anything, he had been very much aware of the animal. He noticed that Wolf stayed right beside the woman, matching her stride when she walked. He had observed the subtle hand signals Ayla made when she approached Roshario's bed, and he saw the wolf drop to his stomach, though his head was up and his ears alert, watching the woman's every movement. When she left, he was up at her command, eager to follow her again.

He watched until Ayla, and the wolf that she controlled with such absolute assurance, turned the corner around the end of the wall. Then he looked back at the woman on the bed. For the first time since that horrible moment when Roshario slipped and fell, Dolando dared to feel a glimmer of hope.

When Ayla returned, carrying a pack basket and the datura plants she had washed in the pool, she found a square wooden cooking box, which she decided to examine more closely later, another one filled with water, a hot fire burning in the fireplace with several smooth, rounded stones heating in it, and some small sections of plank. She nodded her approval to Dolando. She looked through the contents of the pack basket until she found several bowls and her old otter-skin medicine bag.