The footprints led to a clearing in the forest. Fire had already burned it, so there would be no more flames. A loud chorus greeted his scent, which wafted before him, and the others came toward him excitedly.
Dak's face relaxed. They were all here. They clustered around him but moved back warily when they spotted the bundle in his arms. Dak gestured that it posed no danger, and they crowded around again. Gently, he held the young one out for their inspection. Rune came close and sniffed, her brow furrowed. She stared at Dak with puzzled eyes and sniffed again. Then she took Screech carefully from Dak's arms and began to lick the blood from his face. Her face was gentle now, and soft cooing sounds of reassurance came from her lips.
Dak looked at her, baffled. This was behavior usually reserved for one of her own young ones, or the young of her daughters. But how could that be? Two of her daughters had died of a sickness that had killed many in the troop; another had left in search of a mate. Of Rune's young, only he and Klep remained in the troop. Before, there had been Apar; Rune had behaved like that with Apar's young one...
Dak gave up the puzzle. Rune's behavior told him that she had accepted the young one he had found, and that was all that mattered.
Rune, too, was puzzled, but she did not doubt her senses. She had known immediately that this was Apar's young one, that he had somehow survived. His scent was unique, and she knew it well. Before his disappearance, she had cared for him many times, had licked him and fed him, carried him in her arms, and the smell of him told her he belonged.
She gathered a pile of leaves that had escaped the fire and laid Screech gently on them. He moaned again at the movement. She studied him, her eyes alert. One of his arms was bent at a strange angle, and it was bruised and swollen. The bruise extended across his shoulder and neck. Rune turned him so the arm did not press against the ground. Blood still welled up from a cut on his head. She licked it until the oozing stopped.
Screech stirred and called out. Myta's little ones, curious about the newcomer, tried to kneel down to look at him, but Rune chased them back. All night, she hovered over Screech, not allowing the others to come too close. Occasionally, she drank water from a nearby puddle and pressed her lips to his. Most of it dribbled down his neck, but some went down his throat. His face twisted with pain as he swallowed. For hours, the heavy branch had pressed against his neck, bruising everything inside. Rune's eyes were anxious as she watched.
Again, Screech uttered the strange call. Rune bent over him solicitously, but he frowned and looked away. He wanted another face there. He wanted Zena. Her image came into his mind, and he smiled, a tiny, fleeting smile.
Once, he had heard her calling, but he had not been able to tell if the noise was real or part of the dreamlike visions that had come in and out of his mind ever since the tree had knocked him down. He did not know if he had answered, either. Wearily, he shut his eyes again and resumed his waiting. He had waited all through the long hours when he was pinned beneath the tree, and he would wait some more. She would come to him; he was certain of it, for she always had before.
**************************
Light filtered softly through the sooty air many hours later. The redness had gone from the sky and the rain had stopped. Dak rose from his resting place and stretched. Klep grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the young one on the ground. Ignoring Rune's scolding, he traced the scar on Screech's back with curious fingers. The gesture pulled at Dak's memory. He saw himself at the pond, tracing the scar in the same way.
This was the small male at the pond. But where was the young female with whom he had mated? He frowned. This puzzle was not so easily dismissed. He had cared for that female, and she was missing. Perhaps she too had been wounded, was still lying somewhere. If he searched again, he might find her.
Rune came to him and pointed north, wanting to leave. Dak looked up at the smoking mountain. Fire and the terrible moving blackness could pour from its peak again at any moment, and trap them here. He sighed. There was no time to look for the young female. He was the only adult male left in his troop, and he must help Rune get the others away.
Sadly, he turned away from the mountain and began to walk north. Rune lifted Screech into her arms and followed, but he was too heavy for her and she asked Dak to take him. Klep strode by his brother's side, trying to match his long stride. Myta's two little ones scampered ahead, chasing each other through the woods as if there had been no volcano, no storm to frighten them and make them flee from their home.
Myta followed, calling anxiously. The two young ones had been born together, almost a year after Myta had appeared, thin and frightened, in the valley. Rune had chased her away at first, but Myta had refused to leave. Day after day, she had hung around the places where they slept and gathered food, cringing submissively when any of them came close, and after a while they became accustomed to her presence. Then Myta had signaled her readiness to mate. Dak and another male who had since left had mated with her many times. After that, his mother had accepted her as one of them.
Her acceptance was crucial, for Rune was the undisputed matriarch of the troop. Dak watched her admiringly as she strode beside him, her eyes fastened on the place to the north where she wanted to lead them. Her vast store of experience was invaluable to all of them. She had taught them what foods to eat, where to find shelter, how to protect and feed the young ones; she had led them to new places when food was scarce. During the drought that had killed so many in the troop when Dak was a small child, she had brought them to the valley behind the ridge, where food and water were available to those who knew the territory, as Rune did. Now, she was leading them to safety once again.
Dak looked down in surprise as the thick mat of damp, ash-covered leaves on the floor of the forest abruptly gave way to a squashy substance that almost buried his toes. Looking up again, he realized that they had emerged from the woods. For the first time since they had fled from the volcano, he could see far into the distance. He gasped in astonishment. The whole expanse of land before him had been buried beneath a hard black crust. Above it lay a thick layer of ash, still damp from the rains. The ash-covered lava stretched as far as he could see to the east and west, went all the way to the edge of the deeply eroded escarpment to the north. Above the escarpment stood the plateau. There, at least, he could see some green.
Klep called excitedly. He had found bones, sticking up from the lava. Dak went to see. The bones still had the shape of an antelope. It lay there, as if sleeping, but much of its flesh was gone. He pulled a bit of charred meat from its ribs. The taste was burned and bitter. But in another place, he found flesh not so badly charred, and he called to the others to try it.
Rune pulled off a piece and chewed it thoroughly, then leaned over Screech to put some in his mouth. He choked and cried out in pain. She looked up at Dak, her eyes clouded with worry. The small male's lips were terribly hot.
Myta's little ones swung on the animal's horns, chortling, while the others feasted on its flesh. It was the first food they had found since the day before. When their hunger was satisfied, they moved on across the wide stretch of wet ash, leaving deep footprints behind them. The sun bore down on the prints and baked them dry, leaving an indelible record of their passage.
Suddenly, Klep screamed and jumped frantically up and down. Dak ran to him and began to jump himself, for the ash was hot under his feet. He pulled Klep away from the place, but as the sun climbed relentlessly higher, all the ash began to heat up. By the middle of the day, they had to hop as quickly as possible from one spot to the next, and they could not rest at all. Thirst began to torment them. Dak thought of the wet leaves in the forest behind them, and ran his tongue longingly over his cracked lips.
A big boulder stuck up through the lava just ahead. They collapsed on top of it, drawing their feet gratefully away from the scorching ground, but thirst soon drove them on. Myta especially needed water, for she was suckling two youngsters and they drew the liquid from her body. Rune led
them around to the right, pulling Klep behind her. An instinct born of years of experience told her this was the most likely direction in which to find water. The land sloped down on the right side of the plateau, and in such places, swamps sometimes flourished.
Abruptly, Rune began to run, still pulling the startled Klep. She called as loudly as she could without breaking her stride. Dak stopped to listen to the call and then ran after her quickly as pain shot up through the soles of his feet. But his eyes were eager, for Rune had uttered the sound for water.
Then he saw it, a glimpse of muddy liquid, just beyond the top of a small rise. He lumbered forward, his eyes fastened on the sight. So intent was he that he failed to notice the sudden disappearance of ash and lava. At one moment, his feet burned; the next moment, they felt the welcome coolness of grass. He looked down, amazed. A few long tongues of black reached toward the swamp, but between them was the wonder of green. And beyond that was the miracle of water.
Rune and Klep were already there, kneeling and drinking deeply. Myta staggered behind her two young ones, who ran jubilantly toward the muddy banks. They did not stop to drink, but waded in energetically. Myta screamed, the scream for danger, and they ran out as fast as they had entered. She had spotted an ominous pair of eyes just above the surface. She did not know what the eyes signified, for she had never seen such a creature before, but she was certain it could hurt them.
Dak peered into the water as he knelt to drink. He could see the animal's large body from this perspective, just beneath the water. It was scaly, with a thick tail, and it had a long snout with terrible, gnashing teeth. He pointed toward it for Rune to see. She jumped back, and gestured with her arms that the creature might come close and try to snatch one of them with its cruel jaws.
The two youngsters backed fearfully away from the water, their feet squashing deeply into the wet moss around the pond. But their alarm dissipated rapidly as other novelties distracted them. Tiny colorful frogs, disturbed by their hasty retreat, leaped high into the air. The twins scampered after them. One of them picked up a handful of moss and flung it at his brother. Soon clumps of the soggy stuff were flying in all directions.
The others moved away from the crocodile's place to soothe their blistered feet in the coolness of another of the small ponds that dotted the marsh. Then they lay down on a grassy area above the wetness, grateful to be able to rest. Dak looked around him with satisfaction. Food abounded in this place. The marshes were studded with edible plants, and there would be many kinds of insects and reptiles, as well as small mammals and birds.
Carefully, he lowered Screech to the ground. The small male was frighteningly limp, and he had not uttered a sound for a long time, not even when Dak had run, stumbling in his eagerness, to the water. But his eyes opened for a moment when Dak put him down, and he emitted a weak sound, the same call Dak had heard before.
Rune came to look at him. Dak thought he saw tears in her eyes, and they frightened him further. But she went stolidly towards the water and slurped up a mouthful. The little one needed liquid desperately. The lava's terrible heat had drawn all the moisture from him, and he was feverish as well. Screech did not resist when she placed her lips against his, but he could not seem to swallow. Even when Rune put the water in very slowly, most of it dribbled down his chin.
A clump of wet moss hit Rune's back as she crouched over Screech. She scowled at the twins. Then her face grew thoughtful. The moss had felt cool and refreshing. Gesturing to one of the boys to give her the clump in his hand, she placed it gently on Screech's forehead. When she signaled for more, the youngsters set off eagerly and returned with big piles. These she draped around Screech's chest and neck. The coolness seemed to help, for his face became less strained. Satisfied, Rune settled down beside him to wait.
Dak rose and climbed to the top of the escarpment, beyond the marsh. From here he could see all the way to the valley where they had lived. The contrast between the place where he stood and the place he had come from was startling. Here, everything was lush and green, untouched by the volcano. Below, all was black, apparently lifeless. Only the trees in the forest they had left, looming bleakly above the ashes, broke the flat darkness. Then he spotted some antelopes, and a bunch of pigs, taking advantage of the evening coolness to cross the lava. There were not many, but at least some animals had survived. Far away, near the place where they had first stepped onto the lava, he thought he saw another creature, one that walked like himself on two legs. He squinted, trying to distinguish its size and shape. But it was too far to see clearly, and he gave up the effort.
The brilliant horizon caught his attention. The sun had just disappeared, and all the sky around it was fiery red. Its glow lit up the voluminous clouds that still seethed behind the smoking mountain, and turned the lava purple. The vast expanse seemed almost to move before Dak's eyes as the light disappeared against it. He watched for a time and then turned away. Soon it would be fully dark, and he must protect the others. They were safe from the volcano, but other unknown dangers could lurk in this place. He scrambled back to the marsh. Rune had moved them a little higher, away from the water and the crocodiles. Dak picked up a few large stones, to throw at any predator that came near. Klep imitated him. Rune, too, had a stone.
Dak went over to her where she lay beside Screech on a deep pile of grasses. The small male was still and quiet. Once, he cried out and his eyelids fluttered, then he was still again. Dak looked at his mother for reassurance, but the tightness of her lips only increased his uneasiness.
Rune reached out and touched the young one's hand, then his head. She had kept the mosses damp and cool, but Screech's skin still burned against her palm. She met Dak's worried eyes and shook her head forlornly.
Sighing, he lay down beside her to sleep. But even in sleep, his ears remained alert for unusual sounds. He heard snuffling, as a night creature probed for food, and insects made a wondrous chorus. Once, a bird squawked, and an animal screamed in terror as a predator grabbed it. None of these noises woke Dak, though he was aware of them. He sat up straight, though, when he heard an eerie howling pierce the darkness. The sound stopped, then resumed, from another place farther away.
Dak relaxed and lay down again. It had been a different kind of howling. But after that, he dreamed. As he slept, an image of a young female, the one he had mated with at the pond, came into his mind. She sat in the middle of the steaming lava, her head in her hands, and she howled in anguish. Over and over, the dream raced through his brain, and when he woke in the dawn, he could not tell if he had heard the howling or not.
CHAPTER SIX
Zena wrapped both arms around the thick branch in front of her and clung desperately as the trunk slid still lower against the stream bank. It scratched deep gouges in the damp clay; she watched, mesmerized, as displaced globs slithered into the water and were instantly dissolved in swirling foam.
The trunk settled again with a wrenching jerk just above the churning river. Water surged around Zena's knees, splashed relentlessly into her face and eyes, but she dared not wipe it away lest she lose her grip and fall. She dared not move at all, forward or backward. She was stuck here, at the mercy of the raging water.
She slumped helplessly against the sodden branch. Then a muffled sound reached her, barely audible over the water's clamor. It was the infant; she was almost sure it was.
Resolve returned, and she sat up straight, determined somehow to get to the baby. Daring to let go with one hand, she swiped at her eyes so she could see. On one side of her a waterfall charged through the rocks, on the other side were vine-encrusted brush and branches that hung down from the larger trunk. If she could reach them, she might be able to haul herself up.
Just as she moved forward, a heavy log careened over the waterfall and charged straight at her knees. Frantic with terror, she stood up and grabbed a thick vine that dangled near her head to steady herself. Her feet slid away from the drenched trunk and dropped uselessly into the water. It reached
as high as her chest now, and only her fingers kept her from being swept away. She held on to the vine with all her strength as the current lashed her, tried to force her into the tumultuous river.
Trembling with the strain, she looked for a place to stand to get a few seconds of relief for her arms. The log that had crashed toward her was down there, bobbing in the restless water. Gingerly, she placed her feet on it. The log held her weight for a moment, but then it shot out from under her, propelling her straight up into the thicket. Despite the jolt, she felt immediately more secure. Now the water was below her knees, and she could reach the larger branches above. Slowly, she hauled herself up until her body was free of the current's wrenching pull.
Now she was certain she heard the infant. She was screaming loudly, long insistent wails of frustration. The sound renewed Zena's determination. Doggedly, she dragged herself up through the tangle of branches until she was directly below the main trunk. It still rose at a steep angle, but not as steep as before. Wrapping her arms around its wide girth, she managed to pull herself on top of it. This time, she did not even try to sit, but lay flat on her stomach and wriggled toward the opposite bank.
She lifted her head, suddenly aware that water was no longer splashing up at her, and steeled herself to look at the torrent below. Her relief was so great that she almost fell. There was no water. There was only ground, solid, ash-covered ground. But she was high above it - too high to jump, and she saw no branches, no convenient tangle of brush through which she could lower herself. All that was visible was a limb below her that angled down toward the ground, above the churning water.
The baby wailed again, a sharp cry of fear. Zena moved without thinking. She slid backward to the limb, rose to her knees and lunged. For a moment, her body hung over the rushing torrent; then she landed with a thump at the edge of the bank. Brushing away the tears that welled up at the welcome feel of earth beneath her feet, she hurried toward the place where she had heard the infant. There had been no more cries.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 7