They were high now, near the top of the plateau. Grasses waved around them, and animals of many kinds grazed peacefully in the distance. Leafy trees decorated the meadows, and a huge lake sparkled in the sunlight. The scene was beautiful, had Zena been aware of it. But she could not see, not yet. All her attention went inward, toward the emptiness of her loss. Because there had been no others, the bond between herself and Screech had been stronger even than the one between mothers and young they had borne themselves. They had loved each other deeply, and Zena was desolate.
Rune led them towards the lake. On its eastern side were tumbled rocks and boulders where they could shelter. Long ago, she had lived here, and although her memory was dim, her feet led them unerringly in the right direction. Zena followed without protest, and when the group settled for the night among the boulders, she laid Screech gently beside her and slept with one arm stretched protectively across his still form.
She woke in the dawn, before any of the others had stirred. She looked down at Screech, and an expression of infinite sadness came into her eyes. Quietly, she picked him up and slipped away. She wandered with him all around the rocky area beyond the lake. She was looking for something, though she did not know what it was. But when she saw a tiny pond shining in the distance, Zena went to it unhesitatingly. She sat beside it for a long time with Screech in her arms. Finally, she rose and placed him in a little crevice between two boulders overlooking the water. Then she turned and went without him to join the others.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zena sat by the lake, watching intently as the weaverbirds constructed their intricate nests. She used an old nest she had found to hold berries and nuts, but now it was full of holes and she wanted to make a new one. Plucking a few reeds from the edge of the lake, she tried to put them together as the weaverbirds did. The strands fell apart. She tried again. This time the pieces stayed in place, but Tipp grabbed the material and threw it into the air, squealing in delight.
Zena hugged her, amused as always by her daughter's lively antics. Tipp was almost as big now as Screech had been when he had died. Many years had passed since then, but Zena still thought of him often. Sadness came with his image, but Tipp could always chase it away with her irrepressible delight in everything around her. She was a curious child, and fearless. Zena had to watch her carefully. She loved to run, and she chased the twins everywhere. Even when she could barely toddle, she had followed them on small, unsteady legs, falling constantly in her eagerness to join. She had tipped over so often that Zena had come to think of her as Tipp.
Tipp screamed suddenly and Zena leaped to her feet. The child had climbed on top of a pile of sand. Always curious, she had dug into it with her small fingers, unaware that it contained a nest of biting ants. They swarmed over her hands and streamed up her legs. She jumped up and down, slapping frantically at the ants. Zena grabbed her and dunked her in the lake. Tipp's eyes opened wide at this unexpected action, and her screams stopped abruptly. The bites forgotten, she chortled with glee as her still-slapping hands made loud splashing noises against the water.
Dak appeared behind Zena, looking worried. Zena made the sound for "stinging ants" and pointed to Tipp. He shrugged, and moved away. Like all of them, he had become accustomed to her escapades.
The twins appeared on the shore, and Tipp called to them to join the game. Shouting eagerly, they charged into the shallows. The noisy play of three young ones was too much for a group of flamingos fishing nearby. They rose into the air and flapped heavily away, their long legs dangling. Zena watched as they settled further down the shore in a rosy cloud. Behind them, the water heaved and surged as a hippopotamus emerged. It opened its mouth wide, revealing blunt yellow teeth. Another one thrust its head up, then another. Squawking their displeasure at still another disturbance, the flamingos took flight again.
Zena stood quickly and called out the sound for "danger". The hippos were not close but they still made her nervous. Their massive bodies could move with alarming speed, and they often charged at anything that annoyed them.
Tipp and the twins scrambled quickly to the shore at her signal. Everyone in the group now understood the sound-words she and Screech had developed. The children especially delighted in learning them, and they made up new ones for every object and situation they encountered.
Tipp yelled a sound she had created for run, and began to leap through the tall grasses. The twins scampered after her, calling the word back and forth. Tipp stopped suddenly, and they piled into her, almost knocking her over. Zena started toward them, alarmed. Tipp was staring intently at a small creature that had emerged from a pile of brush. It was about her size, and it had thick fur and a long muzzle. A larger animal appeared behind it.
Tipp held out her hand, and the little creature sniffed it. The bigger animal turned back to the brush pile and resumed its search for insects. Zena relaxed. She had seen baboons before, but they did not often come so close. Still, they presented no danger unless they felt threatened. She made a detour around the brush pile as she headed toward the resting place above, calling to the young ones.
The children ran after her, a little frightened by the sudden encounter. The young baboon tagged behind them, but turned quickly when its mother uttered a sharp call. Tipp stared after it, disappointed, and then scampered away to join the others.
They had gathered at the resting place, an open space just below the boulders where they sheltered during the night. Rune and Dak and Klep were there, and Myta, with her newborn infant. There was a new male, too. Lop had appeared at the lake almost a year ago. As Myta had once done, he had stayed near the edges of the group for many weeks. He was a shy male who made no attempt to challenge any of them, and after a while they had become accustomed to his presence. When Myta had entered her receptive period, she had mated with him as well as with Dak, and after that he had dared to join them in the clearing. Klep had also tried to mate with Myta, but she had pushed him away. He had not been quite old enough then.
Myta was nursing the infant. The little female had been born only the night before. Tipp and the twins stared at it curiously. It bleated at them, and they jumped back in alarm. The others crowded around Myta, wanting to touch the newborn. She held it out for their inspection, but only Rune was allowed to hold it and lick its small body. She let Zena stroke its face and wriggle its tiny fingers, but Dak and Klep had to be content with tickling its curled toes. Lop did not even try to come close. He sat quietly at the edge of the group, as if still unsure of his welcome.
Zena climbed onto one of the big boulders above the resting place. This was her favorite perch. From here, she could see out over the lake, and all around the surrounding countryside. Everywhere, life abounded. The plateau she had finally come to was as fertile as the pond she had left. There was food for all of them in the valleys and meadows around the lake except during the worst of the dry season. Then Rune led them to places she remembered - first to the marsh, where food was always available, then to a river valley far to the west. Huge trees that fruited late in the season grew there, and the river kept enough water so that tubers near its banks stayed moist, and berries and melons continued to grow. Always, though, the group came back to their place at the lake as soon as the sky began to darken with clouds, signaling the return of the rains.
Dak came to sit beside Zena. He, too, loved to look over the lake, and to listen to the cacophony of sounds that sprang from the African savannah during times of plenty. All around them insects chirped and birds called. A lion's roar punctuated the softer sounds. The lions hunted on the far side of the lake, where many animals grazed. They were well fed for the moment, for they had taken a zebra the night before. The children had found its carcass. They had not gone near, though. They knew that even if the lions had full bellies, they could be dangerous if anything interfered with their kill.
Klep had been more adventurous. He had hidden nearby and then run in quickly to snatch at a bone. Grinning, he had returned to the r
esting place, proudly waving his trophy. The smaller children had looked at it with awe, but they had not liked the taste when Klep let them chew for a moment on his prize.
Klep had grown much bigger in the last months. He was taller than Dak now, and very strong, though he was always gentle with the small ones. Zena looked at him as he rested in the shadow of a boulder below her, and an almost forgotten sensation stirred inside her. She frowned and turned her gaze to Dak. The sensation grew stronger, and she moved closer so she could rub against him. Intent on watching a long-legged stork stalk fish in the shallows, Dak ignored her. Zena stroked his arms and caressed his face. His attention wavered, and he looked into her eyes. She met his gaze and felt hotness spread between her legs.
Still looking into her eyes, Dak began to stroke her body gently, then with increasing fervor. Zena returned the strokes until the heat inside her was too great to deny. She climbed into his lap so he could go inside her. He thrust repeatedly, and she moaned with pleasure. A series of spasms shook her body; she stiffened, then slumped against Dak. He, too, shuddered and then relaxed. Zena sighed deeply. Her emptiness was at least partly assuaged.
Klep had kept his eyes averted as Zena and Dak mated, but he was still very aware of their actions. He waited until they were resting separately before he approached Zena and began to stroke her. But she had had enough for the moment and wandered away. Soon, though, she called to him to join her in a clump of grass behind the boulders. There she mated with him, patient with his lack of expertise. It was his first mating, and she had to help him find the right position.
During the next few weeks, she mated repeatedly with Dak and Klep, and Lop as well. Instinct told her that to mate with all the males in the troop was crucial. Then there would be no need for them to fight among themselves to be the one to mate, and once he had mated with her, each of the males would help to protect her young one when it was born.
Eager for her company, the three males followed her around and plied her with choice tidbits of food. Sometimes she presented her rump to them; sometimes she lay on her back in the soft grasses or held herself in their laps, as she had with Dak. Always, the act was deeply satisfying. Mating made her feel complete, and it triggered feelings inside her that caused her to moan and cry out. Tipp usually came running when she heard the sounds, fearing her mother was hurt. But it was pleasure, not pain, that prompted Zena's cries.
Gradually, Zena's need to mate diminished, and she forgot about it, as did the males. Once again, her belly began to swell. This time it was Tipp who patted it and was surprised when something within her mother pushed strongly against her hand. But it was Rune who helped Zena through the birth.
The contractions began early one afternoon. Zena went to an enclosed area among the boulders where she had built a nest of grasses. Sensing her need to be alone, the others stayed away, except for Rune. Zena was glad of her company. All afternoon, all through the night and into the following morning, the spasms rocked her body, each more painful than the last, but still there was no sign of the infant. By the middle of the day, she was exhausted and frightened. This was not like Tipp's birth, which had happened so quickly and easily.
Rune's wrinkled face furrowed with worry as she watched. She had seen many births, and she knew something was wrong. When the next contraction came, she crouched down to peer between Zena's legs. A tiny rump showed there. Rune pulled at it. Zena screamed in pain and tried to push her away. But Rune would not let go. She pulled harder when Zena's muscles tightened again. Blood poured from a jagged tear in Zena's skin, but still the infant would not come. Shaking her head worriedly, Rune sat back on her heels to wait.
As evening approached, Zena became still, and her groans subsided. Rune sensed she would not last much longer. Desperate now, she tried again. Rubbing her hands with dirt so they would not slip away, she pushed her fingers down on each side of the tiny rump and pulled with all her strength. Once, twice she pulled, and then, so abruptly that she fell over backward, the infant emerged, already squalling. Rune smiled in satisfaction as she handed the little creature to Zena.
Zena took it in her arms, momentarily forgetting her pain, her utter exhaustion. The infant was red and wrinkled, and had the protuberance at its groin. She licked it vigorously for a moment but soon fell back against the grasses. The licking had used the last remnants of her strength, and she was not sure she could move again. Her body felt as if it had been pulled apart, and strong cramps still wracked her belly. By the time the afterbirth appeared, she felt incapable even of lifting her head.
Rune seemed to understand. Signaling to Zena to lie still, she cut the cord with a sharp rock and then she disappeared. In a few moments she was back, clutching some soft bulbs and a pile of spongy mosses she had dipped in the lake. They were full of water, and Zena sucked at them eagerly, but she was too exhausted to eat.
Darkness came, and she slept. Rune stayed close to guard her. Once, when a large hawk settled nearby, she called for Dak. He chased the bird away, and left again.
The tiny boy began to whimper, and Rune placed it gently at Zena's breast. It suckled vigorously; when it had finished, Zena slept again. All through the night, the infant was quiet, but just as dawn broke, it started to wail lustily. Zena knew she must force herself to move. To stay in the birthing place was dangerous. The smells, the sounds could attract predators.
She struggled painfully to her knees, then to her feet. Tipp heard her movements, and peeked out from behind a rock. Her small face was perplexed. She could not understand her mother's long absence, nor did she know why Zena carried a squirming bundle that made noises like the ones Myta's baby had made after it was born.
Zena held the newborn out for her to see. Tipp's eyes lit up as understanding came. She reached eagerly for the infant, but her mother pulled it back again. Tipp turned away dejectedly, but when Zena called to her, and gestured that she should help to pick up the stained grasses, her face lightened. Eager to help, she grabbed a big pile and followed Zena and Rune to a place farther from the resting area. They threw the grasses into some thick brush. After she had made one trip, Zena let the others complete the task. She felt terribly weak, and her legs shook under her when she tried to move.
She staggered back to the resting place, holding Tipp's small shoulder for support. The others crowded around her, wanting to touch the newborn. Rune snapped sharply at them, and they backed away. Grateful for her protection, Zena lay down to rest. Later, she tried to get up again, so she could go to the lake and wash the stains from her legs. But as soon as she stood, the world went dark and she slumped to the ground.
She did not move again for many days, but only lay there as if dead. Blood dribbled incessantly from a place deep inside her and stained the dusty ground. At night, she shivered; by day, the hot sun tormented her feverish body. The others watched, their faces bleak with worry. Zena had found a special place in their hearts, and they did not want to lose her. They tried to protect her from the burning sun with leafy branches, and slept close beside her at night, to lend her their warmth. Tipp searched the area for choice bits of food, to tempt her mother, but Zena lacked the strength to eat. Each time she refused, Tipp's eyes grew sadder, her face more forlorn. Zena drank, though, and Rune kept her constantly supplied with wet mosses. She made Zena drink a liquid from the leaves of special plants that helped sickness, too, grinding them carefully with her own worn teeth and mixing them with fresh, clear water.
Dak watched over them all, his heart leaden with fear. Always, he had felt Zena's pain as if it were his own. Long ago, her howling had lodged inside him; now her terrible weakness seemed to fill him as well. It dragged at his limbs, made it hard for him to gather the food he knew they needed.
The days crept by, and his fear increased. The bleeding had finally stopped, but Zena had barely moved, and she had not eaten at all. Then, one morning, Tipp came running with a big egg, the first they had seen in months. Eggs, she knew, were her mother's favorite food. She pok
ed her fingernail into one end, then the other, as Zena had taught her, and dribbled the contents into her mother's mouth. Zena's eyes opened, and she sucked eagerly. Tipp smiled, the first smile that had crossed her face since the birth of her tiny brother. She hurried off to find another egg.
That night, sweat poured from Zena's body, despite the cool air. Every time Dak touched her, her skin was wet, and in the morning, her forehead felt cool to his touch. Frightened, he called to his mother.
Rune placed a hand on Zena's forehead, then on her belly, and nodded gravely. Her shoulders slumped, and tears poured from her eyes. Dak stared at his mother, his face frantic with worry. He could not tell if her actions meant Zena was better or worse. He thought she must be worse, because of Rune's tears, but when he came to see for himself, he knew the answer. He covered his face with his hands and wept, for Zena had looked up at him and smiled.
**************************
The rains that year were hard and long. Monstrous black clouds slithered across the sky, and they did not disappear after a few hours, as they usually did. Instead, they loomed over the bleak landscape for days at a time, dumping torrents of rain that seemed never to stop. The thick, heavy drops battered the lake and flattened the withered grasses against the darkening ground. Miniature rivers descended from the boulders where Zena and the others huddled miserably, tracing ever-widening paths as they tore through the cracked earth toward the lake.
Zena shivered as the rain pounded at her shoulders and pulled the infant closer, trying to keep it dry. But there was no escape from the wetness. She had no cave to shelter in here, only the scattered boulders, which were useless against the driving rains.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 9