He had felt a rush of warmth at her words, thinking that she was pretty wonderful, too.

"Then, when we met the Mamutoi, Talut and the Lion Camp," Ayla continued, "I was sure the Others were all good people. They helped each other, and everyone had a voice in the decisions. They were friendly and laughed a lot, and they didn't reject an idea just because they hadn't heard about it before. There was Frebec, of course, but he turned out not to be so bad, either. Even those at the Summer Meeting who sided against me for a while because of the Clan, and even some of the Sharamudoi, did it out of misplaced fear, not evil intentions. But Attaroa was as vicious as a hyena."

"Attaroa was only one person," Jondalar reminded her.

"Yes, but look how many she influenced. S'Armuna used her sacred knowledge to help Attaroa kill and hurt people, even if she did feel sorry about it later, and Epadoa was willing to do anything Attaroa said," Ayla said.

"They had reasons for it. The women had been badly treated," Jondalar said.

"I know the reasons. S'Armuna thought she was doing the right thing, and I think Epadoa loved to hunt and loved Attaroa for letting her do it. I know that feeling. I love to hunt, too, and I went against the Clan and did things I wasn't supposed to so I could hunt."

"Well, Epadoa can hunt for the whole Camp now, and I don't think she was so bad," Jondalar said. "She seemed to be discovering the kind of love a mother feels. Doban told me she promised him she would never hurt him again and would never let anyone else hurt him," Jondalar said. "Her feelings for him may be even stronger because she hurt him so much and now she has a chance to make up for it."

"Epadoa didn't want to hurt those boys. She told S'Armuna that she was afraid if she didn't do what Attaroa wanted, she would kill them. Those were her reasons. Even Attaroa had reasons. There was so much in her life that was bad, she became an evil thing. She wasn't human any more, but no reasons are good enough to excuse her. How could she do the things she did? Even Broud, as bad as he was, was not as bad, and he hated me. He never purposely hurt children. I used to think my kind of people were so good, but I'm not so sure any more," she said, looking sad and distressed.

"There are good people and bad people, Ayla, and everyone has some good and some bad in them," Jondalar said, his wrinkled forehead showing his concern. He sensed that she was trying to fit the new sensibilities she had gathered from her latest unpleasant experience into her personal scheme of things, and he knew it was important. "But most people are decent and try to help each other. They know it's necessary – after all, you never know when you may need help – and most people would rather be friendly."

"But there are some who are twisted, like Attaroa," Ayla said.

"That's true." The man nodded, having to agree. "And there are some who only give what they must and would rather not give at all, but that doesn't make them bad."

"But one bad person can bring out the worst in good people, like Attaroa did to S'Armuna and Epadoa."

"I suppose the best we can do is try to keep the evil and cruel ones from causing too much harm. Maybe we should count ourselves lucky there aren't more like her. But Ayla, don't let one bad person spoil the way you feel about people."

"Attaroa can't make me feel any different about the people I know, and I'm sure you are right about most people, Jondalar, but she has made me more wary, and more cautious."

"It doesn't hurt to be a little cautious, at first, but give people a chance to show their good side before you judge them bad."

The highland on the north side of the river paced along with them as they continued their westward trek. Wind-sculptured evergreens on the rounded tops and level plateaus of the massif were silhouetted against the sky. The river split out again into several channels across a lowland basin that formed an embayment. The southern and northern boundaries of the valley maintained their characteristic differences, but the base rock was cracked and down-faulted to great depths between the river and the limestone foreland of the high southern mountain. Toward the west was the steep limestone edge of a fault line. The course of the river turned northwest.

The east end of the lowland basin was also bordered by a fault ridge, caused not so much by uplifting of the limestone as by the depression of the land of the embayment. Toward the south, the land spread out on a level grade for some distance before it rose up toward the mountains, but the granite plateau in the north drew closer to the river, until it was rising steeply just across the water.

They camped within the low embayment. In the valley near the river, the smooth gray bark and the bare branches of beech made an appearance among the spruce, fir, pine, and larch; the area was protected enough to shelter the growth of a few large-leafed deciduous trees. Milling around near the trees in seeming confusion was a small herd of mammoths, both females and males. Ayla edged closer to see what was going on.

One mammoth was down, a giant of an elder with enormous tusks that crossed in front. She wondered if it was the same group they had seen earlier breaking ice. Could there be two mammoths who were so old in the same region? Jondalar walked up beside her.

"I'm afraid he's dying. I wish there was something I could do for him," Ayla said.

"His teeth are probably gone. Once that happens, there is nothing anyone can do, except what they are doing. Staying with him, keeping him company," Jondalar said.

"Perhaps none of us can ask for more," Ayla said.

In spite of their relatively compact size, each adult mammoth consumed large quantities of food every day, primarily woody-stemmed tall grass and occasional small trees. With such a rough diet, their teeth were essential. They were so important that a mammoth's lifespan was determined by its teeth.

A woolly mammoth developed several sets of large grinding molars throughout its span of some seventy years, usually six to a side both upper and lower. Each tooth weighed about eight pounds and was especially adapted to grinding coarse grasses. The surface was made up of many extremely hard, thin, parallel ridges – plates of dentine covered with enamel – and had higher crowns and more ridges than the teeth of any other of its species, before or since. Mammoths were primarily grass eaters. The shreds of bark that they tore from trees, particularly in winter, the spring forbs, and the occasional leaves, branches, and small trees, were only incidental to their main diet of tough fibrous grass.

The earliest and smallest grinders were formed near the front of each jaw, and the rest grew in behind and moved forward in a steady progression during the animal's life, with only one or two teeth in use at any one time. As hard as it was, the important grinding surface wore down as it moved toward the front, and the roots dissolved. Finally the last thin useless fragments of tooth were dropped as the new ones moved into place.

The final teeth were in use by age fifty, and when they were nearly gone, the old gray-hair could not chew the tough grass any more. Softer leaves and plants could still be eaten, spring plants, but in other seasons they were not available. In desperation, the undernourished elder often left the herd, searching for greener pastures, but found only death. The herd knew when the end was close, and it wasn't uncommon to see them sharing the elder's last days.

The other mammoths were as protective of the dying as they were of newborns, and they gathered around trying to make the fallen one get up. When all was over, they buried the dead ancestor under piles of dirt, grass, leaves, or snow. Mammoths were even known to bury other dead animals, including humans.