She rose, made restless by the constant discomfort and by her hunger. She had been ravenous ever since she had begun to recover from the birth, but in the interim between the end of the dry season and the fulfillment of the rains, food was hard to find. Soon all manner of bounty would decorate the hillsides, but until the plants matured and the new berries ripened, they struggled to find enough.
Tipp followed her mother. Since her brother's birth, she had been reluctant to let Zena out of her sight. Zena stretched out her hand and Tipp grasped it eagerly. Together, they headed for the grove of trees on the hillside. Nuts could still be found on some of their limbs - if they could be reached.
Zena paused beneath the big trees. Here, the rain hardly touched her. She peered up into the leafy canopy. She could see nuts, but they were too high to reach. Reluctantly, she passed out from the trees' shelter and felt the rain pound once again at her unprotected back and shoulders. She hunched low to avoid it, and almost tripped over a tangle of limbs on the ground. A tree at the edge of the grove had been felled by lightning the night before, and its branches were scattered over a wide area.
Tipp let go of Zena's hand and ran to explore the fallen tree. Squealing with glee, she returned with a bird's nest. Four small eggs still lay within it, their shells cracked but the contents intact. She and Zena each ate two of them and then scoured the branches for nuts. There were plenty, so Zena called to the others to come and join the feast.
They came running, chattering excitedly at the unexpected bonanza, and began to stuff themselves and their baskets with nuts. Zena had finally succeeded in making herself a container like the weaverbirds' nests she so admired. It had worked so well that she had made a basket for each of the others.
The twins, however, did not bother with the fallen tree. They wanted an excuse to climb. Myta watched worriedly as they shimmied up a tree and shook its branches to loosen nuts high above their heads, but the nuts clung stubbornly and would not fall. Klep grabbed a long, slender stick and climbed after them. He hit hard at the high branches. There were swollen pods up there, as well as nuts. Dak found a stick and tackled another tree; the twins found sticks as well. Soon nuts and pods were falling to the ground in indiscriminate showers.
When they had eaten their fill, Zena and Tipp returned to the boulders. Zena brought a branch filled with nuts for Rune to eat. Dampness made the old female's joints stiff and painful, and she could not walk very far. All of them helped by bringing food back to the resting place, so she could share whatever they found.
Zena held the leafy branch over her head to protect her from the driving rain. Tipp watched with wide, interested eyes. She scampered back toward the fallen tree and returned, holding a branch proudly over her head, just as her mother was doing. Unwilling to be outdone, the watching twins ran off to find branches. Grinning at their accomplishment, they positioned a bundle of leafy twigs above their heads while they dragged two stout limbs behind them.
Now Dak joined the game. He went to the fallen tree and came back with an unusually thick-leafed branch. He propped it up in a crevice between two boulders so that it sheltered part of the area where they sat. Lop put some smaller branches on top, to provide more cover from the rain, but it was Zena who suddenly saw the potential in their arrangements. Signaling to Dak and Klep to help her, she placed the twins' stout tree limbs across the tops of the boulders that enclosed their sleeping area. Dak's leafy branch went above them. The others gathered still more twigs and branches to pile on top. Before long, they had a roof.
Tipp and the twins crawled under it, squealing with delight. The others followed. There was room for all of them, if they squeezed together. That they were happy to do, for the cool air made them shiver. Zena smiled with satisfaction. Now, at last, she could keep the infant warm and dry, and Rune could escape from the rain.
She settled back and began to work on a new basket. The others brought out digging sticks and stones to sharpen. There was little else to do until the rain stopped. For weeks, they huddled together, chipping and scraping and weaving. Zena began to wonder if they would ever again feel the warmth of the sun. But one morning, it finally burst through the clouds, and she crawled out to toast herself in its welcome glow. Rune followed, but she was not content to rest in the clearing; she wanted to go down to the lake where she could watch the storks and flamingos, and all the animals that gathered to drink.
Zena frowned anxiously as Rune rose painfully to her feet and started down the muddy path, still slippery from the rain. She called to Tipp to go with her.
Tipp's usually cheerful face was somber as she adjusted her pace to match that of the old female, but once they reached the lake, she regained her high spirits and ran off to look for frogs and turtles. She loved to creep up on them and hear them leap into the water with a resounding plop.
Rune settled herself near the water, where she could reach bulbs and mosses. Zena watched her for a time, then she closed her eyes and basked luxuriously in the sunlight. She did not see the ripples, the rounded back, as a hippopotamus surfaced near Rune. Rune did not see it either, but she looked up abruptly when a second hippo, a huge, lumbering male, charged out of the reeds near her to challenge the one in the water. It was the rutting season, and they were irritable and full of aggression.
The hippos thrust their massive heads at each other, mouths open to reveal sharp, tearing incisors. Their bodies lurched through the water, and big waves rolled toward Rune's feet. She hauled herself up and tried to run, but the massive creatures were locked in combat, and moved toward her with incredible speed. Rune fell heavily. Screaming, she tried desperately to crawl away, but she was too late. By the time Zena had sat up to see what the racket was about, Rune's frail body had disappeared beneath the lumbering monsters.
Zena ran down to the lake, calling frantically to Tipp. When she got there, the hippos had returned to the water, but they were still fighting, bellowing loudly and tearing at each other's thick hides. Rune lay in a crumpled heap near the place where she had sat so peacefully.
She and Tipp looked down on the old female. Tipp began to sob. Tears rose in Zena's throat, too, but they did not come out. It seemed as if her sadness was too great for tears. Rune had cared for her and protected her, had taught her from her great store of living knowledge. Now she was gone.
Dak came up behind Zena. Grimacing with emotion, he knelt beside his mother and pulled her into his arms. He held her for a long time, his head bent with grief; then he carried her to a safe place among some tumbled boulders at the edge of the lake. Gently, he lowered her broken body into a protected crevice. All that night, he watched over her, hardly aware of the others as they came to see what had happened. Sadly, Zena gestured to the hippos, and made the sound for dangerous animals. They understood. Each of them came up to Rune and touched her gently, their faces twisted with sadness. Her death left a massive gap in their lives. Though she had been old and frail, Rune had been their leader, the one who had accumulated the wisdom and judgment to see them through almost any disaster. She had led their travels, monitored their behavior, helped them when they were sick or fearful or uncertain. Often, they went to the place where she lay and sat there with her, to pay their respects and remember some of the things she had taught them.
A few days later, rain began to fall again. The lake grew wider and deeper as the torrent continued, and before long, the lapping water reached the rocks that held Rune's body. The lake enfolded her in its grasp, and when Dak next went to look at her, she had vanished.
Her final disappearance made everyone uneasy. Squabbles broke out in the group, as if without Rune's alternately sharp and patient guidance, they did not know how to behave. Klep punched one of the twins when he took a piece of fruit; the other twin came to defend his brother, and Dak tried to restrain all of them. Tipp jumped up and down, excited by the unaccustomed disturbances. Zena, however, was irritated, and she snapped at them sharply, just as Rune had once done. Immediately, they were quiet. Aft
er that, they looked to her for leadership. She was the one who was most like Rune, and they trusted that she, too, would lead them well.
When the dry season came again, Zena took them first to the marshes, as Rune had. But just as the rains had been unusually hard and long, so the heat and dryness that followed were more intense than ever before. Even the swamps were drying up. Food was hard to find, and the once-lush ponds had turned to thick mud that sucked at their legs. One of the twins started to wade toward the clearer water in the middle. Zena pulled him back quickly, remembering the experience with her mother long ago.
The next day, she led them on again, across a wide plain. The vast expanse was littered with termite mounds, some as tall as Klep, to sustain them as they traveled, and they found three unprotected ostrich eggs to eat as well. Water was harder to find. They had brought wet mosses from the swamp, but all moisture was soon sucked from them by the terrible heat.
They settled that night in a dry stream bed. Zena dug into it with her stick until a small puddle of water appeared. The others copied her, so that each got at least a dribble to sustain them. But in the morning, Dak found a good place, where a larger puddle formed. Zena bent down to drink as deeply as she could before they left, and gestured to the others to do the same. She wished they had kept the mosses, so they could saturate them again, but they had long ago been discarded.
Her eyes lit on the three ostrich eggs. Loath to relinquish the new objects, Tipp and the twins had kept them even when they were empty. Zena picked one up and regarded it speculatively. The thick shell was intact except for a hole at the top, where they had sucked out the contents. She lowered it into the puddle and watched with satisfaction as water slowly oozed in. Dak and Lop filled the other eggs, and once again they set off for the sanctuary of the river.
The river did provide sanctuary for a time, but then, just as it had when Zena was young, drought began to stalk the land. The rains never came that year or the next, nor did they come for three more years after that. Ponderous gray clouds filled the sky, but no moisture came from them. Only deafening claps of thunder emerged, and lightning. The jagged streaks lit up the sky as they plunged toward the dry earth, sparking fires that burned feverishly across the parched plains.
The river ran sluggishly, then became still. Its once-abundant water coalesced into hot brown puddles that shrank visibly every day, leaving white-edged rings on the drying mud. The grasses withered and burned as fires raged across them, but no new shoots appeared against the blackened earth as they usually did. Berries failed to grow on the bushes or fruits on the trees; insects ceased to buzz and chirp. The birds and animals that fed on them vanished, and after that the larger animals began to disappear. Only predators thrived, for a time, and then even they began to grow desperate.
Zena watched and remembered. The terror and loneliness of her early years returned as she saw the land dry out, the plants and animals disappear. But it was water that worried her most. Every day, she eyed the shrinking puddles and wondered how they were going to survive if the rains failed for still another year.
Early one morning, Klep came up to Zena and touched her shoulder. The twins were behind him. There was a terrible sadness in his eyes that she did not at first understand. He pointed into the distance and said the word for go. He hugged each of the others, repeating the word. The twins did the same, lingering longest with their mother, Myta. Then the three males turned and began to follow the river downstream.
Tipp lunged after them, as if to follow. They waved her back, and she returned to stand by her mother. Sobs wracked her body. Every day since her birth ten years before, the twins had been her constant companions. Now they were leaving, and she might never see them again. All vestiges of the happiness she had felt when the two young males had hugged her drained from her face.
Zena placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Dak came close, and Myta. As always, Lop stood a short distance away. Together, they watched until the three males were out of sight.
Zena stared at the place where they had disappeared, and her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. The others depended on her to be strong. Klep and the twins were right; they would have more to eat alone, and the group would fare better without them. The twins were almost as big as Klep now, and needed a lot of food. Still, she did not want them to go.
It was the beginning, she knew. First one would go, then another, and finally all of them would have to separate. Soon, there would be no choice.
She turned and saw Dak watching her. She went to him and held tightly to his hand. To think of leaving Dak was more than she could bear. He was her special companion, the one who was always there to help and comfort her. They held each other for a long moment. Then Zena pulled reluctantly away. The sun was high already, and they must begin the arduous search for food.
In the days that followed, Zena and the others stayed close together, suddenly more fearful than before. Without Klep and the twins they felt strange, as if they were missing some integral part of themselves. Klep especially had made them feel safer, for he was the largest and most fearless of all. But even worse than the fear was the sorrow. Tipp could not stop crying, and Myta's face was a mask of grief. Zena saw tears in Dak's eyes as well. Klep was his brother, the one he had cared for and taught. Now he was gone.
She watched their faces despairingly. The bonds the group had developed were different than anything she had known before. They cared deeply for each other, and suffered when they were apart. But she could think of no other solution.
Dreams began to torment her at night, as they had when she was young and all alone. She saw the vulture that had terrified her so long ago, watched it plunge from the sky, its savage beak ready to tear into her flesh. Before it reached her, it became the tiger, the huge, ferocious tiger. She was running, and it was behind her, ready to spring. She heard herself scream -
Zena sat abruptly. Something was screaming. The dream was still in her mind, and she could not tell if the screams had come from her throat, or from some other.
Dak lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes wide with fear. He picked up a big stone and sprang to his feet. Zena jumped up beside him. The screams came again, long, deep yells that resounded in the quiet night.
More noises came, strange, wild noises. Never in her life had she heard such a fearful racket. Her small son and Myta's daughter woke and added their terrified howls to the clamor. Tipp huddled beside them, shivering with fear. Zena grabbed her stone and stood over the children defensively. She had no idea what sort of animals might make such an uproar, but whatever they were, they were coming closer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sounds were almost upon them. Zena and Dak stared at each other in bewilderment. It was shouts they were hearing, not screams. Shouts, and something that sounded like laughter. What kind of creature would shout and laugh?
Dak suddenly leaped over the wall of thorn branches they had placed around the shelter to protect them, and ran into the clearing. Horrified, Zena lunged after him to pull him back. He was peering into the darkness and shouting as if demented, and he paid no attention to her frantic tugs.
"Home!" he was saying, over and over again. An answering cry came from the woods beyond the clearing. Dak sprinted in that direction and disappeared among the trees.
Zena stood still, and a spasm of joy constricted her chest. It could not be...
Tipp came running out of the shelter and grabbed her mother's arm. A gamut of emotions crossed her face. Confusion showed first, then astonishment, then a sudden spurt of hope. After that came a burst of pure happiness. Her mouth creased in the widest smile Zena had ever seen.
"Two!" she called out excitedly, for that was how she had always referred to the twins. Laughing and crying at the same time, she ran after Dak.
Zena saw them then. Four shadowy figures had appeared at the edge of the woods, their bodies almost invisible against the backdrop of trees. They were laughing and talking and cryin
g, jumping up and down and hugging each other.
Tears poured down Zena's face. She had not wept when Klep and the twins had left, for she had wanted to be strong. But now she made no attempt to control the flood of emotions that surged through her. They had returned. Klep and the twins had come back, and her troop was whole again.
Klep strode over and hugged her warmly. He waved jubilantly to Lop and grabbed his arm, shaking it over and over again. The twins leaped wildly around Tipp, pulling at her hair in their teasing fashion, making sure she knew how glad they were to see her. Their eyes sobered when they saw their mother. She pulled them into her arms, her face twisting as she wept with joy. They stroked her gently until she recovered, all the while trying to comfort their little sister, who was still crying in confusion.
Klep called to the twins, his deep voice booming into the darkness, and the three of them ran back into the trees. Tipp's eyes widened in consternation. Were they leaving again?
A moment later they reappeared, carrying something heavy. Zena stared, astonished, as they dropped their burden at the edge of the clearing. It was the carcass of a pig, and almost all the meat was still on it. Pigs were fast and dangerous, and they had sharp, tearing tusks. Never before had they managed to capture one, at least not a big one like this.
With a few words and many dramatic gestures, Klep and the twins described their adventure. They had spotted the pig trapped in mud, nearly dead, but they were afraid to pull it out lest they be trapped themselves. They prodded it with sticks, and its frantic movements brought it a little closer to the edge of the muddy pit. Finally, it came close enough so that they were able to pile branches on the mud, to stand on, and wrestle it out. Then they had looked at each other, remembering those they had left behind, knowing they were hungry. The pig would feed all of them for days. And so they had come home again, lugging their prize. They had shouted and laughed and made up loud combinations of sound-words all the way, to frighten off any creature that might try to attack them, or snatch the pig.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 10