"Will you teach me to make knives, Zelandon?" Doban suddenly asked.

The question pleased him. "Yes, I will show you how to make knives, and other tools, too."

"I'd like to learn more about that, too," Ebulan said. "We will need weapons to hunt."

"I'll show anyone who wants to learn, or at least get you started. It takes many years to gain real skill. Perhaps next summer, if you go to a S'Armunai Meeting, you will find someone to continue your training," Jondalar said."

The youngster's smile turned to a frown; he knew the tall man would not be staying.

"But I'll help you all I can," Jondalar said. "We've had to make many hunting weapons on this Journey."

"What about that… stick that throws spears… like the one she used to free you?" It was Epadoa who had spoken, and everyone turned to stare. The head Wolf Woman had not spoken before, but her comments reminded them of the long and accurate cast Ayla had made to release Jondalar from the target post. It had seemed so miraculous that most people didn't consider that it was a skill that could be learned.

"The spear-thrower? Yes, I'll show anyone who is interested how to use it."

"Including the women?" Epadoa asked.

"Including the women," Jondalar said. "When you learn to use good hunting weapons, you won't have to go to the Great Mother River to chase horses off a cliff. You have one of the best hunting spots I've ever seen, right here down by the river."

"Yes, we do," Ebulan said. "I especially remember them hunting mammoths. When I was a boy, they used to post a lookout and light signal fires when anything was seen."

"I thought as much," Jondalar said.

Ayla was smiling. "I think the pattern is breaking. I don't hear Attaroa's spirit talking any more," she said, stroking Wolf's fur. Then she spoke to the head Wolf Woman. "Epadoa, I learned to hunt four-legged hunters when I first started, including wolves. Wolf hides can be warm and useful for hoods, and a wolf that seriously threatens ought to be killed, but you would learn more from watching living wolves than from trapping and eating them after they are dead."

All the Wolf Women looked at each other with guilty expressions. How had she known? Among the S'Armunai, wolf meat was prohibited, and it was considered particularly bad for women.

The chief hunter studied the blond woman, trying to see if there was more to her than there appeared. Now that Attaroa was dead, and she knew she would not be killed for her actions, Epadoa felt a release. She was glad it was over. The headwoman had been so compelling that the young hunter had become enamored and did many things to please her that she didn't like thinking about. Many of these things had bothered her even while she did them, though she had not admitted it, even to herself. When she saw the tall man, while they were hunting horses, she had hoped that if she brought him back for Attaroa to toy with, she might spare one of their own men from the Holding.

She hadn't wanted to hurt Doban, but she was afraid that if she didn't do as Attaroa commanded, the headwoman would kill him, as she had killed her own child. Why had this Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth selected S'Amodun rather than Esadoa to pronounce judgment on her? It was a choice that had spared her life. It wouldn't be easy living in this Camp any longer. Many people hated her, but she was grateful for the chance to redeem herself. She would take care of the boy, even if he hated her. She owed him that much.

But who was this Ayla? Had she come to break the grip of Attaroa on the Camp as everyone seemed to think? What about the man? What magic did he have that spears couldn't touch him? And how did the men in the Holding get knives? Had he been responsible for that? Did they ride horses because that was the animal the Wolf Women had hunted most, even though the rest of the S'Armunai were as much mammoth hunters as their kin, the Mamutoi? Was the wolf a spirit wolf, come to revenge his kind? One thing she knew. She would never hunt a wolf again, and she was going to stop calling herself a Wolf Woman.

Ayla walked back toward the dead leader and saw S'Armuna. The One Who Served the Mother had watched everything but said little, and Ayla remembered her anguish and remorse. She spoke to her in quiet, private tones.

"S'Armuna, even if the spirit of Attaroa is finally leaving this Camp, it won't be easy to change old ways. The men are out of the Holding – I'm glad they managed to free themselves, they will remember it with pride – but it will be a long time before they forget Attaroa and the years they were held in there. You are the one who can help, but it will be a heavy responsibility."

The woman nodded her head in acquiescence. She felt she had been given the chance to make right her abuse of the Mother's power; it was more than she had hoped for. The first thing to do was to bury Attaroa and put her behind them. She turned to the crowd.

"There is food left. Let us finish this feast together. It is time to tear down the fence that was raised between the men and women of this Camp. Time to share food together, and fire, and the warmth of community. Time for us to come back together as a whole people, with neither one more than the other. Everyone has skills and abilities, and with each person contributing and helping, this Camp will thrive."

The women and men nodded in agreement. Many had found the mates from whom they had long been separated; the others joined to share food and fire, and human company.

"Epadoa," S'Armuna called, as the people were getting their food. When the woman walked over to her, she said, "I think it is time to move Attaroa's body away and prepare her for burial."

"Shall we take her to her lodge?" the hunting woman said.

S'Armuna thought. "No," she said. "Take her to the Holding and put her in the lean-to. I think the men should have the warmth of Attaroa's earthlodge tonight. Many are weak and sick. We may need it for some time. Do you have another place to sleep?"

"Yes. When I could get away from Attaroa, I had a place with Unavoa in the lodge she shares."

"You might consider moving in with her for now, if that's agreeable to her, and you."

"I think we would both like that," Epadoa said.

"Later, we'll work something out with Doban."

"Yes," Epadoa said, "we will."

Jondalar watched Ayla as she walked with Epadoa and the hunters with the body of the headwoman, and he felt proud of her and a little surprised. Somehow Ayla had assumed the wisdom and the stature of Zelandoni herself. The only time he had seen Ayla assume control of a situation before was when someone was hurt, or sick, and in need of her special skills. Then, when he thought of it, he realized that these people were hurt and sick. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that Ayla would know what to do.

In the morning Jondalar took the horses and brought back the necessities they had taken when they left the Great Mother River and went to get Whinney. It seemed so long ago, and it made him realize that their Journey had been considerably delayed. They had been so far ahead of the distance he thought they would have to cover to reach the glacier that he had been sure they would make it in plenty of time. Now they were well into winter, and they were farther away.

This Camp did need help, and he knew Ayla would not leave until she had done everything she felt she could. He had promised to help, too, and he was excited about the prospect of teaching Doban and the others to work the flint, and the ones who wanted, to use the spear-thrower, but a small knot of worry had begun. They had to cross that glacier before the spring melt made it too treacherous, and he wanted to get under way again, soon.

S'Armuna and Ayla worked together to examine and treat the boys and men of the Camp. Their help was too late for one man. He died in Attaroa's lodge the first night out of the Holding, of gangrene so advanced that both legs were already dead. Most of the rest needed treatment for some injury or illness, and they were all underfed. They also smelled of the sickness of the Holding and were unbelievably filthy.