Ayla's strength came not only from being forced to exert herself just to survive when she lived in the valley; it had been developing from the time she was first adopted by Iza. The ordinary tasks that were expected of her had become a conditioning process. Simply to keep up at the minimum level of competence for a woman of the Clan, she had become an exceptionally strong woman of the Others.

"That was good, Jondalar. Now I want you to brace yourself again, and hold her arm here at the shoulder," Ayla said, showing him. "You must not let go, but if you feel yourself slipping, tell me right away." Ayla realized that the bone had resisted healing in the wrong shape, making it somewhat easier to break than if it had been set straight for that length of time, but the muscle and tendon had healed much more. "When I straighten this arm, some of the muscle will tear, just as it did when it was first broken, and the sinews will be stretched. Muscle and sinew will be hard to force, and will cause her pain later, but it must be done. Tell me when you are ready."

"How do you know about this, Ayla?"

"Iza taught me."

"I know she taught you, but how do you know this? About rebreaking a bone that has started to heal?"

"Once Brun took his hunters on a hunt to a distant place. They were gone a long time, I don't remember how long. One of the hunters broke his arm shortly after they started out, but he refused to return. He tied it to his side and hunted with one arm. When he returned, Iza had to make it right," Ayla explained, quickly.

"But how could he do it? Go on like that with a broken arm?" Jondalar asked, looking incredulous. "Wouldn't he have been in great pain?"

"Of course he was in great pain, but not much was made of it. Men of the Clan would rather die than admit to pain. That's how they are; it's how they are trained," Ayla said. "Are you ready now?"

He wanted to ask more, but this was not the time. "Yes, I'm ready."

Ayla took a firm hold of Roshario's arm just above the elbow, while Jondalar held her below the shoulder. With slow but steady force, Ayla started pulling back, not only straightening, but working it around to avoid bone rubbing against bone and perhaps crushing it, and to keep the ligaments from tearing. At one point it had to be stretched slightly beyond its original shape to get it into a normal position.

Jondalar didn't know how she kept up the forceful, controlled tension when he could barely hold on. Ayla strained with the exertion, perspiration running down her face, but she could not stop now. For the bone to be right, it needed to be straightened in a steady, smooth movement. But once she got beyond the slight overstretch, past the broken end of the bone, the arm settled into the proper position, almost of its own accord. She felt it fall into place, carefully eased the arm to the bed, and finally let go.

When Jondalar looked up, she was shaking, her eyes were closed, and she was breathing hard. Maintaining control under tension had been the most difficult part, and she was struggling now to control her own muscles.

"I think you did it, Ayla," he said.

She took a few more deep breaths, then looked at him and smiled, a broad, happy smile of victory. "Yes, I think I did," she said. "Now I need to put on the splints." She carefully felt along the straight, normal-looking arm again. "If it heals right, if I haven't done any damage to her arm while it was without feeling, I think she will be able to use it, but she is going to be very bruised and it will swell up."

Ayla dipped the strips of chamois skin in the hot water, placed the spikenard and yarrow on it, wrapped it loosely around the arm, then told Jondalar to ask Dolando if he had the splints ready.

When Jondalar stepped out of the dwelling, a crowd of faces greeted him. Not only Dolando, but all the rest of the Cave, both Shamudoi and Ramudoi, had been keeping a vigil in the gathering place around the large hearth. "Ayla needs the splints, Dolando," he said.

"Did it work?" the Shamudoi leader asked, handing him the pieces of smoothed wood.

Jondalar thought he should wait for Ayla to say, but he smiled. Dolando closed his eyes, took a long deep breath, and shuddered with relief.

Ayla placed the splints in position and wrapped more chamois strips around them. The arm would swell, and the poultice would have to be replaced. The splints were to hold the arm in place so Roshario's movements would not disturb the fresh break. Later, when the swelling went down and she wanted to move about, birchbark, dampened with hot water, would mold to her arm and dry into a rigid cast.

She checked the woman's breathing again, and the pulses in her neck and wrist, listened to her chest, lifted her eyelids, then went to the entrance of the dwelling.

"Dolando, you can come in now," she said to the man who was just outside the door.

"Is she all right?"

"Come and see for yourself."

The man went in and knelt down beside the sleeping woman, staring at her face. He watched her through several breaths, assuring himself that she was breathing, then finally looked at her arm. Under the dressings, the outline looked straight and normal.

"It looks perfect! Will she be able to use her arm again?"

"I have done what I can. With the help of the spirits and the Great Earth Mother, she should be able to use it. It may not be with the full use she had before, but she should be able to use it. Now, she must sleep."

"I am going to stay here with her," Dolando said, trying to convince her with his authority, though he knew if she insisted, he would leave.

"I thought you might want to," she said, "but now that it's done, there is something I would like."

"Ask. I will give you anything you want," he said, not hesitating, but wondering what she would demand of him.

"I would like to wash. Can the pool be used for swimming and washing?"

It was not what he had expected her to say, and he was taken aback for a moment. Then he noticed for the first time that her face was stained with blackberry juice, her arms were scratched from thorny briars, her clothes were worn and dirty, and her hair was disheveled. With a look of chagrin, and a wry smile, he said, "Roshario would never forgive me for my lack of hospitality. No one has so much as offered you a drink of water. You must be exhausted after your long travels. Let me get Tholie. Anything you want, if we have it, it is yours."

Ayla rubbed the saponin-rich flowers between her wet hands until a foam developed; then she worked it into her hair. The foam from ceanothus wasn't as rich as soaproot lather, but this was a final washing and the pale blue petals left a pleasant mild scent. The nearby area and the plants had been so familiar that Ayla was sure she'd be able to find some plant that they could use to wash with, but she was pleasantly surprised to find both soaproot and ceanothus when they went to get the pack baskets and travois with the bowl boat. They had stopped to check on the horses, and Ayla told herself she would spend some time combing Whinney later, partly to see to her coat, but also for the reassurance.

"Are there any foaming flowers left?" Jondalar asked.

"Over there, on the rock near Wolf," Ayla said. "But that's the last of them. We can pick more next time, and some extra to dry and take with us would be nice." She ducked under the water to rinse.

"Here are some chamois skins to dry yourselves with," Tholie said, approaching the pool. She had several of the soft yellow hides in her arms.

Ayla hadn't seen her come. The Mamutoi woman had tried to stay as far away from the wolf as possible, circling around and approaching from the open end of the site. A little girl of three or four, who had been walking behind, clung to her mother's leg and stared at the strangers with big eyes and a thumb in her mouth.