The headwoman realized that she had grown accustomed to the horses, but she recalled her own apprehension the first time she had seen Ayla with her horses, and it wasn't hard to put herself in their place. She had been there when Ayla brought the tiny wolf pup to the lodge, and she had watched him grow up, but looking at Wolf as a stranger might see him, she realized he would not be seen as a puppyish young animal. He might be young but, to all appearances, he was nearly a full-grown wolf, and the horse was a mature mare. If Ayla could bend the will of high-strung horses and the spirit of independent wolves to her command, what other forces could she control? Especially when told she was the daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, and a Healer.

Tulie wondered what kind of reception they would receive when they arrived at the Summer Meeting, but she wasn't at all surprised when Ayla was invited in to examine the ailing members of the Camp. The Mamutoi settled down to wait. When Ayla came out, she went to Mamut, Talut, and Tulie.

"I think they have what Nezzie calls spring sickness, fever, and tightness in the chest, and trouble breathing, except they got it later in the season, and harder," Ayla explained. "Two older people died earlier, but it is most sad when children die. I'm not sure why they did. Young people are usually strong enough to recover from this kind of sickness. Everyone else seems to be over the worst of it. Some of them are coughing a lot, and I can help make them a little more comfortable, but no one seems seriously ill any more. I would like to fix something to help the mother. She is taking it very hard. I can't blame her. I am not absolutely certain, but I don't think it will endanger us to stay for the burial. I don't think we should stay inside their lodges, though."

"I would have suggested we set up our own tents, if we decided to stay," Tulie said. "It's hard enough for them without having strangers in their midst all the time, and they aren't even Mamutoi. Sungaea are… different."

Ayla was awakened in the morning by the sound of voices not too far from the tent. She quickly got up, dressed, and looked out. Several people were digging a long, narrow trench. Tronie and Fralie were outside, sitting near a fire nursing their babies. Ayla smiled and joined them. The smell of sage tea rose from a steaming cooking basket. She scooped out a cup and sat with the two women, sipping the hot liquid.

"Are they going to bury them today?" Fralie asked.

"I think so," Ayla said. "I don't think Talut wanted to ask outright, but I got that impression. I can't understand their language, though I can catch a few words now and then."

"They must be digging the grave. I wonder why they are making it so long?" Tronie said.

"I don't know, but I'm glad we'll be leaving soon. I know it's right for us to stay, but I don't like burials," Fralie said.

"No one does," Ayla said. "I wish we could have gotten here a few days earlier."

"You don't know if you could have done anything for those children anyway," Fralie said.

"I feel so sorry for the mother," Tronie commented. "It would be hard enough to lose one child, but to lose two at the same time… I don't know if I could stand it." She cuddled Hartal to her, but it only made the toddler squirm to get away.

"Yes. It is hard to lose a child," Ayla said. Her voice was so grim it made Fralie look, and wonder. Ayla put her cup down and got up. "I saw some wormwood growing nearby. The root makes a very strong medicine. I don't often use it, but I want to make something to calm and relax the mother, and it needs to be strong."

The Lion Camp observed or peripherally participated in various activities and ceremonies during the day, but toward evening the atmosphere changed, became charged with an intensity that caught up even the visitors. The heightened emotions evoked genuine cries of sorrow and grief from the Mamutoi when the two children were solemnly carried out of a lodge on hammocklike biers, and brought around to each person for a final farewell.

As the people who were carrying the stretchers slowly walked by the mourning visitors, Ayla noticed that the children had been clothed in beautifully made and elegantly decorated finery, as though dressed for an important festival. She could not help but be impressed and intrigued. Pieces of variously dyed and naturally colored leathers and furs had been carefully stitched together into intricate geometric patterns in making the tunics and long trousers, outlined and highlighted by solid areas that were filled in with thousands of small ivory beads. A stray thought passed through her mind. Had all the work been done using only a sharp awl? Maybe someone would appreciate the small, sharp-pointed, ivory shaft with the hole in the end.

She also noticed headbands and belts, and across the shoulders of the girl, a cape with fascinating designs that were worked into a material which appeared to have been constructed out of strands of the underwool shed by the passing woolly beasts. She wanted to touch it, examine it closely, and learn how it had been made, but it would not have been appropriate. Ranec, standing beside her, noticed it, too, and commented on the intricate pattern of right-angled spirals. Ayla hoped that before they left, she could find out more about how it was made, perhaps in exchange for one of her ivory points with a hole.

Both children were also adorned with jewelry made of shells, animal canines, bone; the boy even had a large, unusual stone which had been pierced to wear as a pendant. Unlike the adults whose hair was in disarray and covered with ashes, their hair was neatly combed and arranged in elaborate styles – the boy in braids, the girl with large buns on both sides of her head.

Ayla could not dispel the feeling that the children were only sleeping and would wake up any moment. They looked too young, too healthy, with their round-cheeked, unlined faces, to be gone, to have passed into the realm of the spirits. She felt a shudder pass through her, and involuntarily glanced toward Rydag. She caught Nezzie's eye and looked away.

Finally the bodies of the children were brought to the long, narrow trench. They were lowered into it and placed head to head. A woman with a peculiar headdress and a long beaded tunic stood up and began a keening, high-pitched chant that sent shivers through everyone. She wore many necklaces and pendants around her neck that jangled and clicked when she moved, and several loose ivory bracelets around her arms, consisting of several separate half-inch-wide bands. Ayla realized they were similar to the ones some of the Mamutoi used.

A deep reverberating drumbeat sounded with the familiar tone of a mammoth skull drum. Keening and chanting, the woman began to weave and sway, rising up on her toes and lifting her feet, sometimes facing different directions, but staying in one place. As she danced, she waved her arms about sharply and rhythmically, causing her bracelets to rattle. Ayla had met her, and though they had not been able to converse, she felt drawn to her. Mamut had explained that she was not a medicine woman as Ayla was, but one who could communicate with the spirit world. She was the Sungaea counterpart of Mamut – or Creb, Ayla realized with a jolt. It was still difficult for her to conceive of a woman mog-ur.

The man and woman with red faces sprinkled powdered red ochre over the children, making Ayla think of the red ochre salve that Creb had rubbed on Iza's body. Several other things were ceremoniously added to the grave: shafts of mammoth tusk that had been straightened, spears, flint knives and daggers, carvings of a mammoth, a bison, and a horse – not as well made as Ranec's, Ayla thought. She was surprised to see a long ivory staff, decorated with a circular, spoked, wheellike carving to which feathers and other objects were attached, laid beside each child. When the people of the settlement joined in the wailing, keening song of the woman, Ayla quietly leaned forward and whispered to Mamut, "Those staffs look like Talut's. Are they Speaking Staffs?"