"The repellent! That must have been what kept them from doing more damage," Jondalar said, pleased that Ayla's mixture had kept not just their canine traveling companion away from their things, but had later kept away the other wolves as well. "And all the while I thought that Wolf was making our Journey more difficult. Instead, if it hadn't been for him, we probably wouldn't even have a tent. Come here, boy," Jondalar said, patting his chest and inviting the animal to jump up and put his paws on it. "You did it again! Saved our lives, or at least our tent."

Ayla watched him grab the thick fur of the wolf's neck and smiled. She was pleased to see his change in attitude toward the animal. It wasn't that Jondalar had ever been unkind to him, or even that he disliked him. It was just that he'd never been so openly friendly and affectionate before. It was obvious that Wolf enjoyed the attention, too.

Though they would have sustained much more damage if it hadn't been for the wolf repellent, it hadn't kept the wolves away from their emergency food stores. They suffered a devastating loss. Most of their dried meat and cakes of traveling food were gone, and many of the packets of dried fruit, vegetables, and grain had been torn open or were missing, perhaps taken by other animals after the wolves had left.

"Maybe we should have taken more of the food the S'Armunai offered us when we left," Ayla said, "but they had little enough for themselves. I suppose we could go back."

"I'd rather not go back," Jondalar said. "Let's see what we have. With hunting, we may have enough to make it as far as the Losadunai. Thonolan and I met some of them and stayed overnight with them. They asked us to come back and spend some time with them."

"Would they give us food to continue our Journey?" Ayla asked.

"I think so," Jondalar said. Then he smiled. "In fact, I know they will. I have a future claim on them!"

"A future claim?" Ayla said, with a questioning frown. "Are they your kin? Like the Sharamudoi?"

"No, they're not kin, but they are friendly, and they have traded with the Zelandonii. Some of them know the language."

"You've talked about it before, but I never have quite understood what a 'future claim' means, Jondalar."

"A future claim is a promise to give whatever is asked for, at some time in the future, in exchange for something given or, more usually, won in the past. Mostly it's used to pay a debt when someone has been gaming and lost more than that person can pay, but it's used in other ways, too," the man explained.

"What other ways?" Ayla asked. She had a feeling there was more to the idea, and that it would be important for her to understand.

"Well, sometimes to repay someone for something he's done, usually something special, but difficult to value," Jondalar said. "Since there is no limit placed on it, a future claim can be a heavy obligation, but most people will not ask for more than is appropriate. Often just accepting the obligation of a future claim shows trust and good faith. It's a way of offering friendship."

Ayla nodded. There was more to it.

"Laduni owes me a future claim," the man continued. "It is not a major claim, but he is required to give me whatever I ask, and I could ask for anything. I think he'll be glad to fulfill his obligation with nothing more than a little food, which he would probably give us anyway."

"Is it far to the Losadunai?" Ayla asked.

"It's quite a distance. They live at the western end of these mountains, and we're at the eastern end, but it's not hard traveling if we follow the river. We will have to cross it, though. They live on the other side, but we can do that farther upstream," Jondalar said.

They decided to camp there overnight, and they carefully went through all their belongings. It was mostly food that was gone. When they put all they could salvage together, it made a meager pile, but they realized the situation could have been worse. They would have to hunt and gather extensively along the way, but most of their gear was intact and would be entirely serviceable with some mending and repairing, except for the meat-keeper, which had been chewed to shreds. The bowl boat had protected their cache from the weather, if not from the wolves. In the morning they had to make a decision about whether or not to continue dragging along the round, skin-covered boat.

"We're getting into more mountainous country. It could be more trouble taking it than leaving it behind," Jondalar said.

Ayla had been checking over the poles. Of the three poles she had used to keep their food away from animals, one was broken, but they only needed two for the travois. "Why don't we take it along for now, and if it turns out to be a real problem, we can always leave it later," she said.

Traveling west, they soon left behind the low-lying basin of windy plains. The east-west course of the Great Mother River, which they followed, marked the line of a great battle between the most powerful forces of the earth, waged in the infinitely slow motion of geologic time. To the south was the foreland of the high western mountains, whose uppermost reaches were never warmed by the gentle days of summer. The lofty prominences accumulated snow and ice year after year and, farther back, the tallest peaks of the range glistened in the clear, cold air.

The highlands on the north were the basic crystalline rock of an immense massif, rounded and smoothed vestiges of ancient mountains worn down over eons of time. They had risen from the land in the earliest epoch and were anchored to the deepest bedrock. Against that immovable foundation, the irresistible force of continents, moving slowly and inexorably from the south, had crushed and folded the earth's crust of hard rock, uplifting the massive system of mountains that stretched across the land.

But the ancient massif did not escape unscathed from the great forces that created the high-peaked mountains. The tilting, faulting, and breaking of the rock, seen in the disruption of its solidified crystal structure, told a story in stone of the violent folding and thrusting it endured as it held firm against the inconceivable pressures from the south. In the same epoch, not only were the high western range on their left, and another even farther west, uplifted by moving continents pushing against unyielding bedrock, but so were the long curved eastern range they had skirted, and the entire series of ranges that continued eastward to the tallest peaks on earth.

Later, during the age of ice, when yearly temperatures were lower, the frozen crown extended far down the sides of the massive mountain ranges, covering even moderate elevations with a sparkling crystal crust. Filling in and enlarging valleys and rifts as it slowly crept along, the glacial ice left behind outwashing sheets and terraces of gravel, and it carved sharp projecting towers of stone out of the rough-hewn younger pinnacles. Snow and ice also covered the northern highlands in winter. But only the highest elevation, nearest the frosted mountains, sustained an actual glacier, an enduring layer of ice that persisted summer and winter.

With the rounded roots of the eroded mountains to the north sprawling out in comparatively level tablelands and terraces, the upper courses of the rivers that flowed across the ancient land had shallow valleys and gentle grades, though they became more rugged through the middle of their courses. Except for those that fell directly off the face of the massif, rivers coming down the steeper slopes of the southern side flowed faster. The demarcation between the gentle northern highland and the mountainous south was the fertile land of rich loess through which the Great Mother River flowed.

Ayla and Jondalar were heading almost due west as they continued their Journey, traveling along the northern bank of the waterway through the open plains of the river valley. While no longer the huge voluminous Mother of rivers that she had been downstream, the Great Mother River was still substantial, and after a few days, true to character, she separated once again into several channels.