As though the idea held some compelling power, ever since Ranec had asked Ayla to think about sharing his hearth, and brought up the painfully obvious fact that she now slept alone, she hadn't been able to think about anything else. She had clung to the belief that Jondalar would forget their harsh words and return, especially since it seemed that every time she glanced toward the cooking hearth, she caught a glimpse, between the support posts and objects hanging from the ceiling in the intervening hearths, of him as he turned away. It made her think he was still interested enough to be looking in her direction. But each night that she spent alone diminished her hope.

"Think about it…" Ranec's words repeated themselves in Ayla's mind, as she crushed dried burdock and sweet fern leaves for a tea for Mamut's arthritis, thinking about the dark, smiling man and wondering if she could learn to love him. But the thought of her life without Jondalar made her stomach ache with a strange emptiness. She added fresh wintergreen and hot water to the bowl of crushed leaves, and brought it to the old man.

She smiled when he thanked her, but she seemed preoccupied, and sad. She had been abstracted all day. Mamut knew she had been upset since Jondalar moved away, and he wished he could help. He had seen Ranec talking to her earlier and he considered trying to talk to her about it, but he believed nothing happened in Ayla's life without purpose. He was convinced the Mother had created her present difficulties for a reason, and he hesitated to interfere. Whatever trials she and the two young men were undergoing were necessary. He watched her going out to the horse annex, and was aware when she returned sometime later.

Ayla banked the fire, walked back to her bed platform, undressed and prepared for sleep. It was an ordeal facing the night knowing Jondalar would not be sleeping beside her. She busied herself with little tasks to delay settling herself into her furs, knowing she would lie awake half the night. Finally, she picked up the wolf puppy and sat on the edge of the bed, cuddling, stroking, and talking to the warm, loving little animal, until he went to sleep in her arms. Then she put him in his basket, petting him until he settled down again. To make up for Jondalar's absence, Ayla lavished love on the wolf.

Mamut realized he was awake and opened his eyes. He could barely make out vague shapes in the darkness. The lodge was quiet, the night quiet that was filled only with the slight rustlings, heavy breathing, and low rumbles of sleep. He slowly turned his head toward the faint red glow of the embers in the firepit, trying to discover what had brought him out of his deep sleep to full wakefulness. He heard a strained breath nearby, and a stifled sob, and pushed his covers aside.

"Ayla? Ayla, are you in pain?" Mamut said softly. She felt a warm hand on her arm.

"No," she said, her voice husky with strain. Her face was turned toward the wall.

"You are crying."

"I'm sorry I woke you. I should have been more quiet."

"You were quiet. It wasn't your noise that woke me, it was your need. The Mother called me to you. You are in pain. You are hurting inside, isn't that so?"

Ayla took a deep, painful breath, straining to repress the cry that wanted expression. "Yes," she said. She turned to face him, and he saw tears glistening in the muted light.

"Then cry, Ayla. You should not hold it in. You have reason to be in pain, and you have a right to cry," Mamut said.

"Oh, Mamut," she cried in a great heaving sob, then still restraining the sound, but with the relief of his permission, quietly wept her heartbreak and anguish.

"Do not hold back, Ayla. It is good for you to cry," he said, sitting on the edge of her bed and patting her gently. "It will all turn out as it should, as it is meant to be. It's all right, Ayla."

When she finally stopped, she found a piece of soft leather to wipe her face and nose, then sat up beside the old man. "I feel better, now," she said.

"It is always best to cry when you feel the need, but it is not over, Ayla."

Ayla bowed her head. "I know." Then she turned to him and said, "But why?"

"Someday you will know why. I believe your life is directed by powerful forces. You were picked for a special fate. It is not an easy burden you carry; look what you have already been through in your young life. But your life will not be all pain, you will have great joys. You are loved, Ayla. You draw love to you. That is given to you to help you bear the burden. You will always have love… perhaps too much."

"I thought Jondalar loved me…"

"Don't be too certain he doesn't, but many other people love you, including this old man," Mamut said, smiling. Ayla smiled, too. "Even a wolf and horses love you. Haven't there been many who have loved you?"

"You're right. Iza loved me. She was my mother. It didn't matter that I wasn't born to her. When she died, she said she loved me best… Creb loved me… even though I disappointed him… hurt him." Ayla stopped for a moment, then continued. "Uba loved me… and Durc." She stopped again. "Do you think I'll ever see my son again, Mamut?"

The shaman paused before answering. "How long has it been since you've seen him?"

"Three… no, four years. He was born in early spring. He was three years when I left. He is close to Rydag in years…" Suddenly Ayla looked at the old shaman and spoke with earnest excitement. "Mamut, Rydag is a mixed child, just like my son. If Rydag can live here, why can't Durc? You went to the peninsula and came back, why couldn't I go and get Durc and bring him back here? It's not so very far."

Mamut frowned, considering his reply. "I can't answer that, Ayla. Only you can, but you must think about it very carefully before you decide what is best, not only for yourself but for your son. You are Mamutoi. You have learned to speak our language, and you have learned many of our customs, but you have much to learn yet of our ways."

Ayla wasn't listening to the shaman's carefully chosen words. Her mind was already racing ahead. "If Nezzie could take in a child who can't even speak, why not one who could speak? Durc could, if he had a language to learn. Durc could be a friend to Rydag. Durc could help him, run and get things for him. Durc is a good runner."

Mamut let her continue her enthusiastic recitation of Durc's virtues until she stopped of her own accord, then he asked her, "When would you plan to go for him, Ayla?"

"As soon as I can. This spring… No, it's too hard to travel in spring, too much flooding. I'll have to wait until summer." Ayla paused. "Maybe not. This is the summer of the Clan Gathering. If I don't get there before they leave, I'll have to wait until they return. But, by then, Ura will be with them…"

"The girl who was Promised to your son?" Mamut asked.

"Yes. In a few years they will mate. Clan children grow up sooner than the Others… than I did. Iza didn't think I'd ever become a woman. I was so slow compared with Clan girls… Ura could be a woman, though, and ready to have a mate, and her own hearth." Ayla frowned. "She was a baby when I saw her, and Durc… The last time I saw Durc, he was a little boy. Soon he'll be a man, providing for his mate, a mate who could have children. I don't even have a mate. My son's mate could have a child before I do."

"Do you know how old you are, Ayla?"

"Not exactly, but I always count my years in late winter, about now. I don't know why." She frowned again. "I guess it's time for me to add another year. That means I must be…" She closed her eyes to concentrate on the counting words. "I am eighteen years now, Mamut. I am getting old!"

"You were eleven when your son was born?" he asked, surprised. Ayla nodded. "I have known of some girls who became women at nine or ten, but that's very young. Latie is not yet a woman, and she is in her twelfth year."