On the fifth day, when she heard Dak call from the ridge, she ran to him and stroked his arm. Then she led him slowly to the pond. They sat there together, almost touching. When Dak handed her some bulbs to eat, Zena looked deeply into his eyes. The expression she saw there brought a strange hotness into her belly. But now it was Dak's turn to look away, as if he were embarrassed. Zena persisted, and after a time, he returned her stare. Mewing softly, she came close, so that her body pressed against his. Then she turned and presented her genitals. The hotness built inside her as he sniffed between her legs and mounted her. Moaning with pleasure, she felt him go inside her and thrust vigorously. The hotness grew and grew until it reached a crescendo of excitement. Her body shuddered violently, and she groaned, a low, intense groan of utter satisfaction.
In the weeks that followed, she and Dak mated many times. The act of mating was deeply gratifying to Zena, and she wanted to do it over and over again. Dak was her willing accomplice. Each morning, he approached her eagerly, often carrying a choice bit of fruit for her to eat. They mated and then sat close together for long hours.
Finally accustomed to Dak's presence, Screech often came to join them, clamoring for his share of attention. When he had first seen them mating, he had hooted angrily at Dak, and tried to pull him away. But Zena had snapped at him, and Dak had refused to move. Defeated, Screech had sat by the pond and watched them, a baffled look on his face.
After that, he had ceased to object, and even greeted Dak with affection when he appeared on the hillside each morning. Dak, in turn, was tolerant of the younger male. He played with him, throwing stones into the pond to hear their loud plunk, or running after him in wide, exuberant circles. Sometimes, too, he just sat quietly beside Screech and traced the long, curved scar on the small male's back with gentle fingers, his eyes attentive.
One morning, Dak did not return. Zena was sad, but at the same time, she was strangely content. The emptiness inside her had been filled, and she no longer felt restless or incomplete. When her belly began to swell a few months later, she was not surprised. She had no idea what the distention might portend, but it did not disturb her. Screech, however, was very startled one evening when he placed his hand on her belly and something inside it kicked him. He drew his hand away and stared at her, perplexed. Zena pulled his hand to her belly again and let him stroke her until he became accustomed to the jolts within.
Many months later, strong cramps disrupted Zena's sleep. An impulse deep within her had persuaded her to build a second nest in a far corner of the cave, and she crawled over to it as the cramping continued. She crouched there, moaning softly. Screech came to nestle against her, a worried look on his face. The bond between them was very strong, and whenever she was hurt, he suffered. She touched his face gently.
The contractions became stronger, and she cried out in pain. Screech whimpered and tried to pull her to her feet. Zena waved him away. She had no strength to spare for reassurance now. All her energies were concentrated on her belly, on the feelings inside her. A heavy ache developed in her back, and she felt an immense pressure between her legs. The contractions continued to intensify. One after another, they shuddered through her body, leaving her no time to recover. She barely noticed as Screech stroked her abdomen and mewed softly beside her.
A fierce pushing sensation overwhelmed her, even as the contractions continued. She pressed down hard with her muscles, to make it go away. But the feeling stayed with her; it wrenched and pulled at her, made her torso rise into the air, then arch backward as the need to push, the forceful contractions, surged through her body.
Water suddenly gushed from her, and she felt something hard between her legs. Gathering her strength, Zena leaned over to see what it was. Blood covered the ground under her; its smell filled the cave. Strangely, it did not alarm her. And when she saw that a form was emerging, she was not alarmed, either. A strong thrill jolted her instead. This was as it should be. She reached down to grab the small body. It resisted for a moment and then came free. She pulled it up to her mouth and licked it energetically. It wailed, and Screech jumped backward. Zena paid no attention to him. All her energies were focused on the little one. She licked it over and over, then held it close to her breast. It rooted for her nipple and sucked eagerly. Screech came close again and watched, his eyes round with surprise.
Light was beginning to penetrate the cave, and Zena could see the infant more clearly. Its face was pink and crumpled, and its tiny skull was covered with black fur. Its hairless body was still covered with a waxy substance that her tongue had not removed. Like her, it had no protuberance at its groin. For a long moment, its eyes opened and it stared at her, unblinking. Zena stared back, entranced. She mewed softly to it and held it close to her breast again. Its tiny hands clutched at her chest, but this time it did not seek her nipple. Instead, it slept, bleating sharply from time to time as a tremor passed through its fragile body.
Suddenly exhausted, Zena lay down on the matted grasses, holding the infant carefully against her chest. But before she could sleep, her belly began to cramp again. She rubbed it hard, trying to make the pains go away. Soon, the afterbirth appeared; following a strong impulse, she ate some of it. Then she cut the cord that had attached the infant to her with her strong teeth. Satisfied, she lay down again and slept far into the morning.
When she awoke, Screech was not there. Alarmed by his absence, she called to him. There was no answer, but soon she heard him lowering himself into the cave. He had bulbs and tubers in his hands, as well as two speckled eggs. His face was covered with yolk and bits of shell. Zena had learned to eat eggs neatly by inserting a fingernail into the top and bottom of the shell and sucking out the contents, but Screech had not yet mastered this technique.
Abruptly aware that she was ravenous, Zena devoured the eggs. They were her favorite food, and satisfied her hunger more than anything else. Screech watched her, his eyes round and serious. Zena held the baby up for him to see.
He reached over and touched it gently, then brought his face close to sniff it. The scent was new and complicated. Blood and milk and feces were all intermingled. He sneezed. Zena put the infant to her breast and suckled it peacefully while she ate some bulbs and tubers. Then she rose to her feet, gesturing to Screech to follow. Gathering a large armful of the soiled grasses, she pushed them up through the entrance to the cave. The smell of birth was strong and would attract attention. Screech helped her; together they carried all the nesting material away from the refuge and scattered it, to dissipate the scent.
Weary but content, Zena stood for a moment gazing at the vista below. Though she had been here for many years, she never ceased to wonder at the beauty and abundance of the place she had so unexpectedly found. Then her eyes were drawn to the plume of smoke that always rose from the mountain with the bowl-shaped top. Today, the plume was thick and very dark.
She frowned anxiously. For weeks, the mountain had been belching smoke and soot, and sometimes it emitted ominous low rumblings. When the wind was right, the air carried a thin layer of grit that covered everything - rocks, grasses, her skin, even the berries she ate. As she watched, a deep russet glow showed momentarily at the base of the plume.
Zena turned away. The belching peak, with its ominous smells and noises, worried her. But for the moment, she was too tired to care. The mountain would have to wait. And for almost a month, it did. Then, in a momentous explosion of flame and molten rock, it erupted.
CHAPTER FOUR
The antelopes could not settle to their feeding. Their heads snapped up constantly, and they pranced skittishly from place to place as if drawn by an invisible force. Zena watched them uneasily. She did not know the cause of their nervousness, but she felt it too. Some danger greater than a leopard or tiger, or even a storm, was gathering around them. It was like the tingling feeling she had before the rains came, when terrible rumblings came from the sky and flashes of light speared the clouds, but much bigger and more oppressive.
Plumes of black smoke spewed from the mountain's bowl-shaped summit. Zena watched as they dispersed into wispy grayness and then coalesced into bulbous clouds edged with sulfurous yellow. They seemed to cover all the earth with their ominous pall. Her sense of unease increased. The mountain was the cause of the animals' nervousness; she was suddenly sure of it.
She shuddered, terribly afraid. For the first time in years, she wanted her mother. She did not know what to do, whether to take Screech and the infant away or to remain in the security of the cave until the danger from the mountain had passed. Her mother would have helped her.
She called to Screech and headed for the cave. Night was almost upon them, and there was nowhere else to go. Placing her bundle of long-stemmed plants and tubers on the cave floor, she settled down to feed the infant. She had tried to make Screech understand that he, too, should bring as much food as he could carry back to the cave. It was all she could think of to do against the unnamed threat.
He came almost immediately. He had understood, for his small hands were full of plants and fruits. He nestled close to her, as he always did, but this time his face was uneasy. He seemed to sense her apprehension, and he stroked her arm over and over again. Even the infant seemed affected, for she had whimpered off and on all day.
Darkness came, but Zena could not sleep. Low rumblings emerged from the mountain, and sometimes the sound escalated into a sustained roar. Twice, the ground trembled under them as they lay curled up in the cave. After the second tremor, Zena picked up the infant and crawled outside, driven by an impulse stronger than her fear. The air was warm and still, the night silent except for the volcano, as if even the insects were too wary to emit their usual noises. Moonlight bathed the plains, and Zena could see the outlines of grazing animals. They seemed even more restless than before.
One of the heavy black clouds that littered the sky snaked across the moon's face, and the animals disappeared. Now all she could see was the mountain glowing fiercely in the distance. The redness near its top had grown. So had the smoke; no longer a thin plume, it spewed out in voluminous bulges that roiled menacingly into the sky. Behind the smoke came flames. But this time, they did not diminish into a scarlet glow, as they always had before. Instead, the flames leaped into the night, turning all the area above the mountain into a blazing inferno.
Fear slashed through Zena's body. Something terrible was about to happen. She could feel it in the tingling of her skin, the gaping ache in her belly. She must get Screech, get away!
She turned toward the cave, but before she could take a step, the mountain exploded. A massive pillar of smoke and flame shot straight up into the tumultuous clouds, and a deafening roar split the air as thousands upon thousands of tons of molten rock finally escaped the dome of hardened magma that had long held them captive. Moving at hundreds of miles an hour, the scalding rock spewed over the lip of the fractured dome and spilled down the sides of the mountain to the earth below, burying everything in its path in a scorching embrace.
Another explosion rent the air. Fiery balls of rock catapulted into the night sky, then streaked toward the earth in long, burning arcs. Everywhere they landed, fire followed instantly. It sped through the grasses, the bushes, the trees, the animals that sheltered within them, incinerating them in seconds.
Horrified, too shocked to react, Zena stood motionless, watching. Flames covered everything in the valley below her. They lit up the plains, turned the air red. Animals scattered in all directions, trampling each other as they fled the inferno. A band of pigs blundered toward her, swerving at the last moment to charge up the ridge. Not all the animals escaped the fires, and the screams of those who were trapped and burning mingled sickeningly with the crackling of flames, the mountain's roar.
A stronger tremor shook the earth. Zena yelled for Screech, but he was already beside her, his face contorted with fear. Then suddenly he was not there, for the ground had parted beneath them with a huge, grinding crack. Zena fell hard against the ledge, knocking the breath from her lungs. She gasped and tried to call Screech, but no sound emerged. Frantic with fear, she tucked the screaming infant under one arm while she felt for Screech's warm body with the other. But there was nothing.
Relief flooded her when she heard Screech calling from somewhere below. His voice was wild with terror. She scrambled toward him, but another tremor knocked her down. Clutching the infant against her chest, she crawled toward the place where she had heard him. The moon was eclipsed by ponderous clouds, and she could see almost nothing. Then, blessedly, it emerged for a slender moment, and she spotted Screech crouching part way down the slope. She ran to him and pulled him up the hill again, toward the cave. Perhaps they would be safe inside.
They crawled toward the entrance, but nothing was there. Zena stared, so astonished she forgot her fear for a moment. The ledge had fallen on top of it. She pushed Screech ahead of her toward the second entrance, but that too was gone. The whole ridge had collapsed. There was no refuge, no place to go.
The roar of the mountain grew into a sustained shriek. Zena pushed the baby's head against her chest, and covered an ear with her free hand, to try to stop the sound. But an even greater clamor arose as the volcano's savage intrusion on the atmosphere triggered a momentous storm. Thunder split the sky; a wild crack of lightning followed instantly. The bolt hit the bushes at the top of the ridge, engulfing them in flames.
Dazed, unable to think amidst the noise, the horror, Zena could not move. A burning chunk of rock careened through the air and crashed in front of her, jarring her into action. Grabbing Screech's hand, she bolted along the ridge, away from the fires and the belching mountain.
All through the night, they blundered through the murky darkness, falling countless times, until they were battered and bruised all over. Only flashes of lightning gave shape to their surroundings. Then, each rock, each bush and tree stood out harshly against the scarlet sky. But as soon as the incandescent spear had delivered its blow, a curtain of black dust descended once more, making the livid air impenetrable. The urge to stop and rest was strong. But Zena kept them moving, for she sensed a menace behind them even worse than the fires. Twice, she had looked behind her and seen the russet glow of molten rock racing across the plains and up the hills, as if the mountain itself were chasing her.
The ferocity of the storm increased moment by moment. The thunder seemed never to stop, and lightning tore the sky apart in multiple flashes. Wind suddenly blasted at them, driving hot ash at their faces, into their eyes. With the wind came rain. Black and filled with soot, it cascaded upon them in torrents, coating their skin with its residue. Zena stumbled on, clutching the screaming infant with one arm, guarding her eyes with the other.
A tree fell behind her with a deafening thud; she hurried away from the noise, desperate now to find shelter. She could barely see, and branches were crashing all around them. To go on was dangerous.
She reached for Screech, to pull him with her under an overhanging ledge, but Screech was not there. Her fingers touched only air.
She called to him, but got no answer. She called again. He could not be far away; he had been beside her only a moment before. Suddenly terrified, she yelled as loudly as she could into the onslaught of thunder and roaring wind and crackling flames, but still there was no answer.
Frantic, Zena tried to retrace their steps, but in the howling darkness, she could not tell where they had been. She dropped to her knees and crawled, clinging to the infant while she searched the ground with her fingers. Perhaps he had fallen, or was trapped somewhere.
She could not find him. Over and over, she crawled around, trying to search a new place each time. She yelled with all her strength until her voice was hoarse and not even a croak would emerge. Finally, she sank to the ground in exhaustion. Tears poured from her eyes. Screech was gone. He had vanished, as her mother had vanished, and now she might never find him...
The infant squealed in her arms, but she ignored the cries. She wanted Screech; even more than the baby, it was Screech she wanted. He was closest to her heart, for he had come to her first, when she was all alone.
Despair overwhelmed Zena. She felt as if something inside her had been mortally wounded in a way she could not understand, could not bear. She closed her eyes and howled, forgetting the storm, the volcano, the danger of being heard. She howled and howled until all the strength was gone from her. Then she collapsed silently against the ash-laden earth.
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A total absence of sound woke Zena. The woods were eerily still, as if every creature that had ever lived there had been silenced by the volcano's fury. No wind stirred, no animal moved, no bird called to its mate.
A drop of water made a barely audible plunk as it landed in a puddle, its normal bell-like tone muffled by soggy ash. Zena turned her head toward the sound. It seemed to come from far away, so she ignored it and fell back again toward sleep, but she could not get comfortable. Her whole body ached, and her throat was so raw she could barely swallow.
She rose stiffly to her feet, holding the still-sleeping infant against her chest. For a moment she could not remember where she was. Then memory returned and agony bent her double. Screech was gone... he was gone... A terrible, drowning heaviness tore at her heart as she thought of him alone and frightened, calling for her.
Abruptly, she straightened and began to search frantically among the stark trees. Perhaps he was still nearby. The night had been so dark, so terrible. Maybe now, with light beginning to creep into the smoky air, she would find him. She tried to remember the way she had come, but nothing looked familiar, and all signs of their passage had been erased by the driving rains. There were no footprints, no scents, so she traversed the whole area, back and forth, calling loudly. But no answer came.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 5