He sat up then, and looked at her, then closed his eyes as though he wanted to memorize her. She was smiling when he opened them again.

"I love you, Jondalar, and I have wanted you so much."

"Oh, Ayla, I ached with wanting you, and yet I almost gave you up. How could I, when I love you so much?" He was kissing her again, holding her tight, as though he feared he might lose her yet. She clung to him with the same fervor. And suddenly, there was no waiting. He held both her breasts, and then untied her waistband. She lifted her hips and pushed off her half-length summer pants, while he unfastened his own, pulled off his shirt, yanked off his footwear.

He hugged her around the waist with his head on her stomach, then moved down between her legs, kissed her mound of hair. Then, he stopped for a moment, pushed her legs apart, and with both hands, held her open, and looked at the deep pink folds, like soft moist flower petals. Then like a bee he dipped and tasted. She cried out, and arched to him, while he explored each petal, each fold, each crease, nibbling, suckling, teasing, reveling in giving her Pleasure, as he had wanted to for days without number.

This was Ayla. This was his Ayla. This was her taste, her honey, and his own member was so full, and so eager. He wanted to wait, wanted this to last, but suddenly she could not. She was breathing hard, and fast, panting, gasping, calling out to him. She reached for him, pulled him up, then reached down to guide him to her warm deep well.

As he slid in, he breathed a deep sigh, and let his full shaft glide in and in, until she enfolded him fully. This was his Ayla. This was the woman he fit, the one who fit him, who held him all. He stayed for a moment, luxuriating in her full embrace. It had been like this with her from the first time, and every time. How could he have dreamed of giving her up? The Mother must have made Ayla just for him, so they could honor Her in full measure, so they could please Her with their Pleasures, as She meant them to.

He pulled back, and felt her thrust to him as he thrust to her. He pulled back again, and pushed, and back and in again. Then suddenly, he was ready, and she was crying out, and they pulled back and in once more, and the wave rolled up and reached the peak, and broke over them in a release of shuddering spent delight.

The resting was part of the Pleasure. She loved the feel of his weight on her then. He was never heavy. Usually he got up first, before she was ready for him to. She could smell herself on him, and it made her smile, reminding her of the Pleasures they had just shared. She never felt quite so complete as then, when they were through, and he was still there, inside her.

He loved the feel of her full body under his, and it had been so long, so stupidly long. But she loved him. How could she still love him after all that? How could he be so lucky? Never, ever again would he let her go.

Finally, he pulled out, rolled over, and smiled at her.

"Jondalar?" Ayla said, after a while.

"Yes."

"Let's go swimming. The river isn't far. Let's go swimming like we used to in the valley, before we go back to Wolf Camp."

He sat up beside her, and smiled. "Let's go!" he said, was up in an instant, then helped her up. Wolf stood up, too, and wagged his tail.

"Yes, you can come with us," Ayla said, as they picked up their things and headed for the river. Wolf leaped after them eagerly.

After they swam and bathed and played with Wolf in the river, and the horses had rolled, and grazed, and relaxed, away from the crowd, Ayla and Jondalar dressed, feeling refreshed, and hungry.

"Jondalar?" Ayla said, standing by the horses.

"Yes."

"Let's ride double on Whinney. I want to feel you close to me."

All the way back, Ayla thought about how she was going to tell Ranec. She was not looking forward to it. When they arrived, he was waiting for her, and was obviously not happy. He had been looking for her. Everyone else had been getting ready for the Matrimonial that evening, either to attend or to participate. Nor did it please him to see them riding double on Whinney, with Racer tagging behind.

"Where have you been? You should be dressed by now."

"I have to talk to you, Ranec."

"We don't have time to talk," he said, with a frantic look in his eye.

"I'm sorry, Ranec. We have to talk. Someplace where we can be alone."

He could only acquiesce. Ayla went into the tent first, and took something from her pack. They walked down the slope toward the river, and then along its bank. Finally, Ayla stopped, reached inside her tunic, and pulled out the carving of a woman transcending into her spiritual bird form, the muta Ranec had carved for her.

"I have to give this back to you, Ranec," Ayla said, holding it out to him.

Ranec jumped back, as though he had been burned. "What do you mean? You can't give that back! You need it to make a hearth. You need it for our Matrimonial," he said, an edge of panic creeping into his voice.

"That's why I have to give it back. I can't make a hearth with you. I'm leaving."

"Leaving? You can't leave, Ayla. You Promised. Everything's arranged. The Matrimonial is tonight. You said you would join with me. I love you, Ayla. Don't you understand? I love you." The panic rose in Ranec's voice with each statement.

"I know," Ayla said softly. The shock and pain in his eyes hurt her. "I Promised, and everything is arranged. But I have to leave."

"But why? Why now, all of a sudden?" Ranec said, his voice high-pitched, almost strangled.

"Because I have to leave now. It's the best time to travel, and we have a long way to go. I'm going with Jondalar. I love him. I never stopped loving him. I thought he didn't love me…"

"When you thought he didn't love you, then I was good enough? Is that how it was?" Ranec said. "All the time we spent together, you were wishing it was him. You never loved me at all."

"I wanted to love you, Ranec. I care about you. I wasn't always wishing for Jondalar, when I was with you. You made me happy many times."

"But not always. I wasn't good enough. You were perfect, but I wasn't always perfect for you."

"I never looked for perfect. I love him, Ranec. How long could you love me knowing that I love someone else?"

"I could love you until I die, Ayla, and into the world beyond. Don't you understand? I will never love anyone again the way I love you. You can't leave me." The dark, magnetic artist was pleading with her, with tears in his eyes; he had never pleaded for anything before in his life.

Ayla was feeling his pain, and she wished there was something she could do to make it less. But she could not give him the one thing he wanted. She could not love him the way she loved Jondalar.

"I'm sorry, Ranec. Please. Take the muta." She held it out again.

"Keep it!" he said, with as much venom as he could. "Maybe I'm not good enough for you, but I don't need you. I can have my pick of this place. Go ahead, run off with your flint knapper. I don't care."

"I can't keep it," Ayla said, putting the muta down on the ground at his feet. She bowed her head and turned to go.

She walked back along the river, with pain in her heart for the pain she had caused. She hadn't meant to hurt him so badly. If there had been any other way, she would have chosen it. She hoped that never again would someone love her that she couldn't love back.

"Ayla?" Ranec called out. She turned back and waited for him to catch up with her. "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as I can get packed."

"It's not true, you know. I do care." His face was etched with grief and pain. She wanted to run to him, comfort him, but she didn't dare encourage him. "I always knew you loved him, from the beginning," he said. "But I loved you so much, I wanted you so much, I didn't want to see it. I tried to convince myself that you loved me, and I hoped, in time, you really would."