The young woman smiled. "You like it?"

"I knew a man, a Mamutoi man, who was a carver of ivory, a very fine artist. He showed me how to see things that are carved and painted, and I know he would love this," Ayla said.

"I have carved figures out of wood, ivory, antler. I've been doing it as long as I can remember. That's why S'Armuna asked me to train with her. She has been so wonderful to me. She tried to help us… She was good to Omel, too. She let Omel keep the secret and never made demands, the way some would have. Many people were so curious." Cavoa looked down and seemed to be struggling to hold back tears.

"I think you miss your friends," Ayla said gently. "It must have been difficult for Omel to keep a secret like that."

"Omel had to keep that secret."

"Because of Brugar? S'Armuna said she thought he might have threatened great harm."

"No, not because of Brugar, or Attaroa. I didn't like Brugar, and I remember how he blamed her for Omel, even though I was little, but I think he feared Omel more than Omel feared him, and Attaroa knew why."

Ayla sensed what was bothering Cavoa. "And you knew, too, didn't you?"

The young woman frowned. "Yes," she whispered; then she looked into Ayla's eyes. "I was hoping you would be here when the time comes. I want everything to be right with my baby, not like…"

It wasn't necessary to say more, or to explain in detail. Cavoa feared that her baby might be born with some abnormality, and naming an evil only gave it power.

"Well, I'm not leaving yet, and who knows? It appears to me that you could have that baby any time," Ayla said. "Perhaps we will still be here."

"I hope so. You have done so much for us. I only wish you had come before Omel and the others…"

Ayla saw tears glittering in her eyes. "You miss your friends, I know, but soon you will have a brand-new baby all your own. I think that may help. Have you thought about a name?"

"I didn't for a long time. I knew there wouldn't be much point in thinking about a boy's name, and I didn't know if I'd be allowed to name a girl. Now, if it's a boy, I don't know whether to name it after my brother, or… another man I knew. But if it's a girl, I want to name it for S'Armuna. She helped me to see… him…" A sob of anguish interrupted her words.

Ayla took the young woman in her arms. Grief needed to be expressed. It was good for her to get it out. This Camp was still full of grief that had to come out. Ayla hoped the ceremony that S'Armuna planned would help. When her tears finally abated, Cavoa pulled back and wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. Ayla looked around for something to give her to dry her tears, and she opened up a package she had carried with her for years to let the young woman use the soft leather wrapping. But when Cavoa saw what was inside, her eyes opened wide in disbelief. It was a munai, a small figure of a woman carved out of ivory, but this munai had a face, and the face was Ayla's!

She averted her eyes, as though she had seen something she shouldn't have, dried her eyes, and quickly left. Ayla frowned as she wrapped the carving Jondalar had made of her back in the soft leather. She knew it had frightened Cavoa.

She tried to put it out of her mind as she packed their few things. She picked up the pouch that held their firestones, and she emptied it to see how many of the grayish yellow metallic pieces of iron pyrite they had left. She wanted to give one to S'Armuna, but she didn't know how plentiful they would be near Jondalar's home, and she wanted to have some for gifts to his kin. She decided to part with one, but only one, and she selected a good-size nodule, then put the rest away.

When Ayla went out, she noticed Cavoa leaving the large earthlodge as she entered. She smiled at the young woman, who smiled nervously back, and when she went in, she thought S'Armuna looked at her strangely. Jondalar's carving had created some worry, it seemed. Ayla waited until another person had left the lodge, and S'Armuna was alone.

"I have something I want to give you before I leave. I discovered this when I was living alone in my valley," she said, opening her palm to show her the stone. "I thought you might be able to make use of it for your Fire Ceremony."

S'Armuna looked at it, then looked up at Ayla questioningly.

"I know it doesn't look like it, but there is fire inside this stone. Let me show you."

Ayla went to the fireplace, got out the tinder they used, and arranged small shavings of wood loosely around dried cattail fluff. She placed sticks of kindling nearby, then bent down low and struck the iron pyrite with flint. A large hot spark was drawn off and fell on the tinder, and when she blew on it, a small flame miraculously appeared. She added kindling to keep it going, and when she looked up she saw the stunned woman gaping at her incredulously.

"Cavoa told me she saw a munai with your face, and now you make fire appear. Are you… who they say you are?"

Ayla smiled. "Jondalar made that carving, because he loved me. He said he wanted to capture my spirit, and then he gave it to me. It's not a donii, or a munai. It's just a token of his feeling, and I will be happy to show you how to make fire appear. It's not me, it's something in the firestone."

"Should I be here?" The voice came from the entrance, and both women turned to look at Cavoa. "I forgot my mitts and came back for them."

S'Armuna and Ayla looked at each other. "I don't see why not," Ayla said.

"Cavoa is my acolyte," S'Armuna remarked.

"Then I'll show both of you how the firestone works," Ayla said.

When she had gone through the process again and let them both try it, they were feeling more relaxed, though they were no less amazed at the properties of the strange stone. Cavoa even felt brave enough to ask Ayla about the munai.

"That figure I saw…"

"Jondalar made it for me, not long after we met. It was meant to show his feeling for me," Ayla explained.

"You mean, if I wanted to show a person how important I think that person is, I could make a carving of that person's face?" Cavoa said.

"I don't see why not," Ayla said. "When you make a munai, you know why you are making it. You have a special feeling inside you about it, don't you?"

"Yes, and certain rituals go along with it," the young woman said.

"I think it's the feeling you put into it that makes the difference."

"So I could carve someone's face, if the feeling I put into it was good."

"I don't think there would be anything wrong with that at all. You are a very fine artist, Cavoa."

"But, perhaps, it would be best," S'Armuna cautioned, "if you did not make the whole figure. If you just made the head, there would be no confusion."

Cavoa nodded in agreement; then both of them looked at Ayla, as though waiting for her approval. In the recesses of their private thoughts, both women still wondered who this visitor really was.

Ayla and Jondalar woke the next morning with every intention of leaving, but outside the lodge a dry snow was blowing so fiercely that it was hard even to see across the settlement.

"I don't think we'll be leaving today, not with a blizzard in the making," Jondalar said, though he hated the thought of the delay. "I hope it blows over soon."

Ayla went to the field and whistled for the horses, to make sure they were all right. She was relieved to see them appear out of the haze of wind-driven snow, and she led them to an area nearer the Camp that was protected from the wind. As she walked back, her mind was on their return trip to the Great Mother River, since she was the one who knew the way. She didn't hear her name whispered at first.

"Ayla!" The whisper was louder. She looked around and saw Cavoa on the far side of the small lodge, staying out of view and beckoning to her.