I'm Just Writing A Story That I

The Other Mammoths Were As Protective Of The Dying As They Were Of Newborns, And They Gathered Around Tying 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.

But When Did You See Her, Talk To Me? When Did You See Her Go Into The Cave? Why Did You Threaten To Strike A Spirit? You Still Don't Understand, Do You? You Acknowledged Her, Broud, She Has Beaten You. You Did Everything You Could To Her, You Even Cursed Her. She's Dead, And Still She Won. She Was A Woman, And She Had More Courage Than You, Broud, More Determination, More Self-control. She Was More Man Than You Are. Ayla Should Have Been The Son Of My Mate.

I Don't Write For Publishers, Certainly Not For Critics, And Not For Readers, But I Am Delighted That So Many People Have Found My Books Enjoyable And Want To Continue To Read Them.

You Weren't Being Punished. You Were Waiting For Me.

I Had An Idea For A Story About A Young Woman Who Was Living With People Who Were Different, Not Just Superficially Different - Such As Hair Colour, Or Eye Colour, Or Skin Colour - But Different In Some Significant Way.