CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES)

by LAMBERT, JOAN DAHR

  An unexpected noise made her heart thump with hope. It was a sneeze, the kind of sneeze the infant made when she was carried** into the cave through the dusty passage. Zena ran toward the sound, and saw the baby immediately. She was lying in the bushes beside the ravine, kicking her feet and waving her tiny fists, as if trying to extricate herself. An angry red bump showed on her forehead, and there were scratches on her stomach, but otherwise she looked unharmed. She stared up at her mother, whimpering. Zena picked her up and held her close. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and this time she did not try to wipe them away.

  The baby sighed contentedly and began to suckle. Zena sat down abruptly, dizzy with the shock of the last few hours. She forced herself up again. Dusk was not far away, and she had to find shelter. Her knees shook with exhaustion as she stumbled on, and her eyes kept closing. Only the infant's movements and noises kept her going. Each time her head nodded and her arms began to sag, the baby wriggled and screamed in fear.

  Abruptly, she realized that the trees had thinned, and the ash under her feet felt different. She sank into it with every step, and in some places there was heat below. Frowning, she peered out from behind the last of the trees. An endless expanse of ash-covered lava stretched as far as she could see in very direction. There was nothing on it, nothing at all - no animals, no trees or bushes or grasses. No movements distracted her eyes; no noises reached her ears.

  Despair overwhelmed her suddenly. With it came a terrible feeling of helplessness. She could not think what to do. To reach the plateau, she had to cross the blackness, but to struggle across all that desolate space was impossible. It was too far, too forbidding. But she could not stay here, in this horrible place without light or greenness or shelter.

  Cautiously, she took a few steps into the deep ash, to see if she could walk in it. It was hot and burned her feet, so she turned and headed east along the edge of the trees to look for a cooler place. Then, without warning, hunger and exhaustion claimed her, and she knew she could go no farther. She had to find shelter. The thought reverberated in her mind, and she clung to it tenaciously as she moved slowly toward the woods, looking for anything that might offer safety during the dark hours. Finally, she saw a pile of large rocks in a burned area. She climbed onto them, seeking a crevice she could crawl through, or even a place in which she could huddle unseen.

  She was lucky. Near the top of the pile, she was able to squeeze through a crack between two rocks. The space was tiny; she could barely move her elbows, and she could not lie down, but at least no larger animal could get in. Groaning with weariness, she slumped against the hard surface. Her eyes closed, and she slept, forgetting her hunger, her fear, even her anguish at losing Screech. She could rest, finally, and that was all that mattered.

  *************************

  An animal padded over Zena's head, its paws almost silent on the gray rocks. She shivered convulsively and huddled lower. The sound triggered a remembered terror so sharp her breathing seemed almost to stop. But the noise disappeared quickly, and she roused to feed the infant, whose hungry whimpers would attract attention.

  Zena placed the tiny female at her breast, but her milk supply had diminished over the past days, and the baby was not satisfied. Clumsily, she pulled her stiff body out of the tight crevice. Neither of them would survive if she did not find food and water soon.

  She drank deeply from a shallow puddle left by the rain. The water was smoke colored and tasted of fire, but it quenched her thirst. Food was more difficult to find, but eventually she came across some plants she recognized, ones that she knew had long yellow tubers beneath the ground. To her surprise, they were softer than those she had found near the pond, and she could chew them easily. She dug up a bunch of them with a stone and kept them with her as she headed again toward the lava.

  Food and rest had restored her, and the picture of the green plateau was once again clear in her mind. She trudged out across the dark ash without hesitation. No heat came from it now, for the sun was barely over the horizon. For more than an hour, she plodded on, only vaguely aware of the occasional animals that trotted past her on their way to the greenness above. Then an unexpected sight brought her to an abrupt halt. There were marks before her in the ash, marks that she had seen many times before. Her own feet made them in the mud, and Screech's feet. But how had they come here?

  Zena looked down at her feet. Carefully, she placed one of them beside a big footprint. Then she removed it and stared at the result. Her print looked the same, though it was smaller and not as deep, for the ash was harder than it had been the day before. Other prints were scattered nearby. One set was almost the same size as her own; another was smaller. Zena knelt to look at it, and Screech came into her mind.

  She stared into the distance. The unexpected marks excited her, but she was also apprehensive. She sensed that others like her had made them, but she had been alone for so long, except for Screech, that she could not imagine what others might mean. She walked on, watching nervously for any sign of the ones who had made the marks.

  The ash began to warm up as the sun rose higher. Zena placed her feet inside the biggest footprints. The ground was cooler there, and she kept on walking inside them until they stopped abruptly beside a large rock. She rested for a moment, then set off again, eager to get off the lava before it became too hot. The green was getting close now; she could see bushes ahead, and she thought she could smell water. The faint scent that lingered around the footprints was getting stronger, too. She had smelled it often as she stood on the ridge looking down into the narrow valley, but never before had it been so powerful, so close. She scanned the landscape ahead of her anxiously and hurried on.

  Another scent stopped her in her tracks. Her heart began to thump heavily - but it was too weak to be sure, and Screech could not be here...

  Tense with hope, she strode ahead, not even noticing that the coolness of grass had abruptly replaced the hot ash beneath her feet. A slight breeze rippled toward her, bringing with it the smell of water and mud and that other, elusive odor.

  Zena began to tremble, and a sob rose in her throat. The scent was there; she could smell it clearly now. It was Screech's smell, more familiar to her than any other.

  She called to him, a long, anguished call, ignoring the danger that might lie ahead. There was no answer. She moved forward slowly, eyes and ears alert. So intent was she that she almost stumbled into a pool of muddy water. Automatically, she knelt to drink, but midway through a gulp she lifted her head in confusion. The scent was strong here. It was Screech, but not quite the same, as if he had changed somehow.

  Bewildered, she called again, the call she had always used to bring him to her. This time she heard a response. The sound was weak, terribly weak, but still she knew it. She sped toward it, forgetting caution, forgetting everything but the need to find him.

  An old female rose from the ground at her approach. She growled at Zena and stood protectively over the small body at her feet. Zena paid no attention. It was Screech on the ground; she was certain it was Screech, even before he uttered the call she knew so well. She ran to him, oblivious to the growls. The other female moved aside as Zena knelt beside him and gathered his head into her free arm, cooing to him joyously.

  Screech looked at her, and an expression of absolute relief came into his eyes. He felt for her hand and held it to his cheek. She had come for him, just as he had known she would. His eyes closed again, but now the anguish had left his face.

  Tears rained down Zena's cheeks, tears of joy and of fear. His face was hot, terribly hot. She pushed the moss away from his forehead, revealing an angry red gash that was badly swollen. And his smell was not right.

  Over and over again, she stroked his cheeks, uttering low calls of happiness, and then of distress, at his stillness, his silence.

  An unfamiliar call made Zena look up. She had almost forgotten the ones whose tracks she had followed. For the first time, she really saw the female who had stood over
Screech. Though stooped and thin, she was strong, and there was no hint of submission about her. She had stopped growling and was watching Zena carefully. The eyes of the two females met. Worry clouded them both.

  Again, Rune uttered the unfamiliar call. A male appeared behind her. He stared at Zena, and then came closer to sniff at her. She shrank back, protecting Screech and the infant with her body. He retreated quickly and sat down near her, continuing to gaze at her face. She stared back, wide-eyed with astonishment as recognition returned. This was the male who had come to her pond. Tentatively, she reached out to touch his shoulder. Dak placed his hand on hers.

  Zena sighed, a long, deep sigh, and bent over Screech once again. Heat came from him, and his arm was hurt. It was purple, and bent in the wrong place. She frowned, and cooed to him. His eyes flickered, but he did not respond. His inability to move, to reach out to her with his characteristic eagerness, frightened her terribly. Had she found him only to lose him?

  Then practicality reasserted itself, and determination. He was hurt, just as he had been when she first found him. She would treat him the same way, and he would get better. Zena ran to the water and filled her cheeks with it, then ran back and placed her mouth over his. Instinct told her he needed water more than anything else, for the heat inside him was burning the liquid from his body.

  With a momentous effort, Screech swallowed a few drops. The movement hurt him badly, but because it was Zena above him, coaxing, and not some other, he would try. His bruised throat was a little less constricted, too, for the terrible tension that had afflicted him as he waited for Zena had finally eased. All through the long nights, the hot days, his muscles had been immovable, kept rigid by the need to listen for her. Now that she had come to him, his whole body had relaxed, and he could try to swallow the liquid he needed so desperately.

  Zena went back for more water; again a few drops went down his throat. She chewed one of her tubers, and tried to persuade him to take some from her lips. But he only frowned and turned his head away. Rune came up beside her carrying fresh clumps of moss. As Zena watched, she placed one on Screech's forehead. Then she handed the others to Zena. Feeling their coolness, Zena imitated her, and put them against the feverish small body. She looked up gratefully at Rune.

  Another female approached as Zena bent over Screech. Two small ones clung to her. She reached out tentatively to touch Zena. Her hand stopped in the middle of the gesture, and she looked anxiously at Rune, as if requesting permission.

  Rune frowned as her eyes moved between Zena and Screech. Screech had a familiar smell, but Zena did not. But Dak had greeted her in a way that implied recognition. She shook her head, confused, and wandered off to sit by herself.

  Myta took advantage of Rune's confusion and finished her gesture. She touched Zena, very lightly, and looked curiously at the infant. Then she darted off to join Rune. After a while, both of them got up and went off in search of food. The young ones followed, chattering to each other and tumbling together in the grasses as they went.

  Dak disappeared behind a low hill on the far side of the pond. He returned a few minutes later and sat down close to Zena. In his hands were some ripe pieces of fruit. Gravely, he held them out for her to take.

  Zena looked carefully at his face, then she reached out and accepted the fruit. It was deep purple, and juicy. She bent over Screech, to see if he might take some. His eyes had opened again, and he was staring up at her. She cooed to him, and showed him the fruit. But he just kept looking at her and did not respond. She lay down beside him to rest. Perhaps later, he would eat more. Joy filled her heart, despite her worry. She was with Screech again.

  Her eyes began to close and she blinked furiously, trying to stay awake. She did not want to leave Screech again even in sleep. But exhaustion and the feeling of security that came from having others nearby were too great to deny. Against her will, Zena's eyes closed again, and she slept.

  ************************

  When she awoke, the others were grouped around her. Dak lay on his back; a young male Zena had not seen before leaned against him. Rune crouched beside Screech, her eyes watchful. The two little ones were suckling, one at each of Myta's breasts.

  Suddenly fearful, Zena turned quickly toward Screech. Seeming to feel her anxiety, he opened his eyes and reached out toward her with his good arm. Lovingly, Zena held his hand against her face. It felt hot to her cheek. She laid the small hand gently by his side and jumped up to get him water and fresh moss, taking the infant with her.

  Dak followed and watched carefully as she drank. Now that Zena had returned, he was determined to protect her and the new infant as well. Crocodiles lurked everywhere in the marshes, ready to grab any creature that came too close. He spotted a pair of eyes and a telltale ripple in the water, and flung a stone at it with all his strength. A scaly tail whipped out of the muck as the crocodile swam away. Zena nodded her thanks, and he smiled in satisfaction.

  Zena returned to Screech. He took some water; then he stared into her face and opened his mouth, just as he had when he was tiny and wanted food. Overjoyed at this sign of improvement, Zena looked for the tubers she had left near him, so she could chew some for him. They had disappeared. A remnant of one still clung to Myta's mouth. So she approached Dak, and made gestures as if plucking fruit. It was Screech's favorite food. She was certain he would eat some, if she could find more. Dak watched her carefully, then grunted with comprehension and led her to the trees. Together, they gathered a big pile of the succulent fruit and brought it back to the resting place.

  Zena chewed the fruit thoroughly, until it was almost liquid. Screech watched her, and opened his mouth obediently when she pressed her lips against his, but he could not seem to swallow more than a mouthful or two. Zena sighed, disappointed. Darkness was almost upon them, and in the dim light his face looked terribly pale.

  Later in the night, he began to shiver, and to utter strange sounds, as if he did not know where he was, or that Zena was beside him. He called for her over and over again, but did not seem to hear her reassuring responses. She ran for water, but now he did not even try to swallow, and most of it spilled out of his mouth. The heat had gone from his skin, and he felt cold and clammy. Zena lay close to him to give him warmth, murmuring the sounds he knew so he would understand that she was still there.

  He cried out suddenly in fear. Zena took his hand in hers and caressed it. The gesture seemed to penetrate his delirium. He opened his eyes and gazed at her. The moon was almost full, and she could see his face clearly. Now she was certain he knew she was there. She could tell because an expression of merriment, like the expression he had had when he was small and they played games together, came into his face. Zena rubbed her nose gently against his. He responded briefly, as if to assure her that he remembered. Again, he stared deeply into her eyes, and now his expression was utterly peaceful. He sighed in contentment, and his small body relaxed.

  Zena held his hand against her cheek as she slept beside him. All through the rest of the night, he did not stir or make a sound. When she awoke in the morning, his hand was cold. She bent over him anxiously and called to him. He did not answer. She called more loudly. Still he did not respond. Daylight had crept across the low meadows, and the gentle light touched his face as he lay there. No color showed in his skin.

  Terror seized her heart. Trembling, she laid the infant on the cool grass and pulled Screech into her arms. His body felt stiff against her chest, and the heat had left it. There was no warmth in him at all.

  Darkness descended over Zena, despite the glow of the early morning light. She did not see it, did not want to see anything, except Screech's face, eager and warm as it had been before. She did not know what death was, or what it meant, but she knew instinctively that Screech was irretrievably gone. She would not have him anymore. She held him close and howled.

  Dak leaped to his feet as her anguished cries broke the early morning quiet. The terrible noise made his scalp prickle, as it h
ad on the night the mountain exploded, and even in his dreams. But he dared not approach Zena to comfort her. The pose of her body warned him to keep away. He looked anxiously at Rune. She, too, seemed to sense an invisible barrier, for she did not move toward Zena. She only shook her head wearily as she returned his gaze. Her eyes were mournful. She was an old female, and had seen sickness and injuries kill many in her troop. She remembered the shivering and delirium, the final stillness that followed.

  After he and the others had fed, Dak tried to take Screech from Zena, so they could head toward the plateau. Rune wanted to go on, for the crocodiles were a constant threat to the young ones, but Zena refused to relinquish Screech. She snapped at Dak, and would not let him close to the infant either. The tiny girl was still lying in the damp grass beside her, whimpering.

  Rune gestured to Dak to go with the others. She was not surprised at Zena's behavior, for she knew the death of a young one was hard to accept. Slowly, she advanced toward Zena, holding out her hand. When Zena did not move, she picked up the infant. Then she touched Zena lightly on the shoulder and walked away. Zena rose automatically and followed, holding Screech carefully in her arms.

  All that day, she carried Screech with her. He was heavy and stiff, and she stumbled often, but she did not seem to notice. Her howling had stopped, and no tears came from her eyes. She moved as if much of the life had left her when Screech had gone. One foot followed another, and she seldom looked up. Once, Dak tried to take Screech from her, so she could rest. She lurched away from him and lumbered on.

  By the middle of the morning, the infant was screaming with hunger. Zena seemed not to hear. Finally, Rune pressed the baby against her and forced her to let the little female suckle for a few moments while the others rested. Zena looked at the tiny girl then, and laid Screech on the ground so she could feed her. But when they resumed their journey, she handed the infant to Rune and picked Screech up again.