Far from being despised, scorned, or greeted with mistrust, Jondalar's latest invention was welcomed by members of the Golvo Council. He was asked to demonstrate his tools and techniques many times. Tees proliferated faster than spear-throwers -- probably because while spear-throwers required learning a new skill, the tee complimented skills already acquired (and enjoyed). Jondalar was thankful for the distraction. He wanted to be on his way back home again... and he didn't... Oh, dung!

Tulie introduced Ayla to other Golvists, with a twinkle in her eye. She knew that they would not consider a beginner like Ayla any threat to their Golvo status. They would be enjoying the hyena's portion later, she thought smugly. Thanks to Ayla's natural aptitude, not only would Lion Camp devour the prizes, but wagers would pay off like a cliff-drive.

Talut and Tornec would represent Lion Camp in the Men's Golvo Tournament. Some camps had no Golvists at all. Those that did could get quite excited over the outcome of a game. There was a great feeling of fellowship amongst the Golvists, though, however competitive they might seem. Everyone enjoyed watching good players, and there was seldom any hard feeling among the losers. All camps that had players contributed items for prizes, which were exhibited at the Golvo Tent. They were lucky this year, in that Wolf Camp had a good Golvo course. Sometimes it could be hard to find a good spot to play, and it took a lot of extra time planning out the course. Of course, playing on their home ground would give Wolf Camp a bit of an edge. But what drove the wagering at this Summer Meeting was the question of -- you guessed it, Ayla. Could the exotic beauty bop the ball in the right direction? Tulie was good, but so were Avarie and Karie, and Madie and Becarie. It all hinged on Ayla's ability, or lack of it -- an unknown quantity that had every Golvo fan on tippytoes.

Ayla's enthusiasm for the game was actually much less than Tulie might have wished. It only served to distract her from -- other things. Some of the time. It was impossible not to see Jondalar frequently, often arm-in-arm with some nice young woman with red feet. Her Golvo affiliations had also probably helped smooth things over after some people got so riled up about her past. Anyway, it was something to do, and it made other people happy when she did it. If only there wasn't an important preliminary round the day before her... oh dear, she wished she could be happy about that...

Ranec flitted about from one event to another. His anticipation of the mating ceremony -- and his ensured perpetual bliss afterward -- colored every moment. Though he did feel a bit uncomfortable about Tricie. She had darn near taken the curl out of his hair over his breaking his implicit Promise... and he would have, if... Oh, well... she would find some nice fellow, Blessed as she was. Little bugger sure did look like... well, Ayla wanted babies. He turned his thoughts forward again. He could hardly wait to present the new set of clubs to his beloved. She would finish the tournament in glory. He had no doubt that his perfect woman would carry off the prizes.

(Cut to the game)

Though she knew Tulie depended on her to establish their position, Ayla was having trouble concentrating on Golvo. She stood still, looking down at the ball to hide her face. If only Jondalar... her throat tightened and her eyes stung with tears trying to be born. Stop it, she told herself. You are going to be mated to Ranec. Tomorrow. He loves you. You will be a Mamutoi mama with little woolly-headed brown babies. Stop thinking about blue eyes. Cool it. Get a grip. Her knuckles whitened as she strangled her Golvo club.

Then she straightened her shoulders, aimed a predatory eye at the first hole, and swung...

The other players and onlookers gaped as the ball flew high, and ended its perfect parabolic arc smack dab in the hole.

It was all Tulie could do not to jump up and down and whoop. She hung on to her dignity, which was behaving like a frightened horse. The tournament was in the bag, as far as she could see, and the bets -- woo hoo. Naturally, she was not involved in the wagering, as she was a player. But Tarneg would have gotten good odds...

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(Cut to the end...)

Tulie watched the happily reunited couple and their animal friends slowly shrink in the distance. Her hopes of winning the Women's Golvo Tournament had already vanished. Good Mother, she was really slipping. Letting that moping Frenchie run off with the bride-price potential of a lifetime, and a natural Golvo champion to boot! Not that he hadn't more-or-less paid his way... dozens of excellent new Golvo balls proved his stone-working skills, and that "tee" thing was handy... She glanced at Ranec, who was an awfully pale shade of brown today. I bet I could get that fancy new set of clubs for a small tusk, she thought, brightening a little. She knew just whose eyeballs would bug out at the sight of them. She could almost feel the amber in her hands now. Ahh, the old sayings are true -- even the scrawniest animal has some good soup-bones in it.

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(A conversation on the way)

Jondalar smiled adoringly at Ayla. "What was that you were saying before, about my forehead?"

Ayla blushed. "Oh, I was just... erm, the way it sort of knots up when you are thinking very hard -- it reminded me of the special knots on my medicine packages, you know, the ones that tell me what's inside. I thought that maybe the different 'knots' on your brow showed a little of what was going on inside."

The man stiffened momentarily, causing Racer to do a few edgewise dance steps. "Oh... " he said, exhibiting a very complex introspective knot. Great Mother, what has my face been saying? He turned a positively sacred shade of red.

"I'm sorry," Ayla said, after a long silence. "I didn't mean to... snoop. But... when you didn't -- I mean, when I thought you wouldn't -- I mean, when we weren't -- I mean, when you thought I thought -- I mean, well, oh, Mother!" She slapped herself upside the head and shook it. Smiling ruefully, she looked into Jondalar's beautiful blue eyes. "I just never want to see a 'forget-me' knot there," she said.

Jondalar melted into a wide, soft smile. "You never will," he replied, reaching out to her.

Just then, Whinney and Racer sidestepped in opposite directions to avoid a mud puddle. Jondalar, unbalanced as he was, landed in it, ker-splat. Racer stopped and looked back, puzzled. What an odd way to dismount; and on the wrong side, too.

"Oops," Jondalar said.

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