It took the two of them a little more than a week to reach the Vale. They stopped only rarely to hunt and even more infrequently to rest. Garion learned a great deal about being a wolf during that week. Belgarath had given him a certain amount of instruction in the past, but Belgarath had come into wolf hood when he had been full grown. Poledra, on the other hand, was the genuine article.

They crested the hill overlooking the cottage one snowy evening and looked down at the tidy farmstead with its fence lines half buried in snow and the windows of the cottage glowing a warm, welcoming yellow.

"Are we in time?" Garion asked the golden-eyed wolf beside him.

"Yes," Poledra replied. "One suspects, however, that the decision not to burden ourselves with the beasts of the man-things was wise. The time is very close. Let us go down and find out what is happening."

They loped on down the hill through swirling snowflakes and changed back into their own forms in the dooryard.

The interior of the cottage was warm and bright. Polgara, more than a little ungainly, was setting places for Garion and her mother at the table. Belgarath sat near the fire, and Durnik was patiently mending harness.

"I saved some supper for you," Aunt Pol told Garion and Poledra. "We’ve already eaten."

"You knew we'd get here this evening?" Garion asked.

"Of course, dear. Mother and I always stay more or less in constant contact. How's Ce'Nedra?"

"She and Beldaran are just fine." He said it in an offhand sort of way. Aunt Pol had surprised him often enough in the past. Now it was his turn.

She almost dropped a plate, and her glorious eyes grew wide. "Oh, Garion," she said, embracing him suddenly.

"Does the name please you? Just a little?"

"More than you could ever know, Garion."

"How are you feeling, Polgara?" Poledra asked, removing her cloak.

"Fine I think." Aunt Pol smiled. "I know about the procedure, of course, but this is the first time I’ve experienced it personally. Babies spend a great deal of time kicking at this stage, don't they? A few minutes or so ago, I think mine kicked me in three separate places at once."

"Maybe he's punching, too," Durnik suggested.

"He?" She smiled.

"Well the word's just for the sake of convenience, Pol."

"If you'd like, I could have a look and tell you if it's a he or a she," Belgarath offered.

"Don't you dare!" Polgara told him. "I want to find out for myself."

The snow let up shortly before daybreak, and the clouds blew off by midmoming. The sun came out, and it glittered brightly on the new-fallen blanket of white around the cottage. The sky was intensely blue, and, though it was cold that day, the bitter chill of midwinter had not yet set in.