He strode quickly toward the plains where Zena had found the calf and began to pull up the smallest, most tender shoots he could find. There were not many, for the grass became high and tough at the end of the dry season. He held the pieces flat on his hand and placed it under the small animal's nose.
It roused, and nibbled a little. Agar put the rest of the grass in Zena's hand and went to a nearby tree. Miraculously, even before the rains came, this particular tree always managed to produce new growth. The small leaves were pale green and tender. When the little gazelle smelled them, its nose twitched, and it raised its head eagerly and ate.
"Good," Agar said. "Perhaps it will live."
Zena watched, astonished, as the calf gained strength before her eyes. She called to Sima and the two boys. They had been watching from a distance, warned by Cere not to go too close lest they frighten the small animal.
"Find more," she instructed, showing them the grass and the tender leaves. Thrilled with the task, they scurried off and soon returned with a big bundle. Zena let them offer some to the calf, and they giggled as its rough tongue scraped their palms.
"Water?" she asked Agar.
He shook his head. "It needs little," he replied. Still, she offered it water and it drank a small amount.
When it stopped eating, she laid the gazelle gently on the ground to examine its leg. The calf turned its head toward her, bleating, and tried to get back into her arms. It seemed to feel safe there, and nowhere else.
Kalar came to watch. "It needs herbs to pull out the hurt," Zena told her. The slender leg, hardly thicker than her finger, was discolored and had a deep cut. Nodding, Kalar went to find some of the leaves she had shown Zena the day before. Together, they prepared a poultice. They began to wrap the leg in the crushed leaves, but the old wise woman from the other tribe stopped them.
"Wait," she said. She shuffled away and returned with two slender sticks, very straight, and some supple vines.
"It is broken," she said, indicating the leg. "This holds it straight. I have done this before, on a young one."
Gently, she straightened the leg and bound the sticks to it with vines. The calf flinched when she touched the leg, but she spoke to it soothingly, and stroked it as Zena had done. It submitted to her ministrations, seeming to sense the old female's calm and long experience.
"Place the poultice over this," she told Zena. "It must have the sticks for many moons, until the leg heals."
Under her watchful eyes, Zena placed the poultices around the sticks and bound them.
"Good," the old wise one said, and rose painfully to her feet. "We go now." She touched Zena softly on the shoulder, and took Kalar's hand.
"Go with the Mother," she said, looking straight into Kalar's eyes. Kalar returned the long, deep look. The two women understood each other now without words, for they had joined so many times in the long wait for death to come, or life if the Mother willed it, that their minds worked as one. The old one was bidding her good-bye, Kalar knew, for she might not live until the next meeting.
"May the Mother take you gently," Kalar replied.
The wise woman nodded, and turned away, signaling to the others of her tribe to follow. Zena watched her go, impressed by her courage and dignity.
"She is very wise, I think," she remarked to Kalar. "More wise than any I know but you."
Kalar smiled gravely in agreement. "We have learned much from the old one," she replied. "She is of the Mother."
When the time came to resume their journey, Zena set the calf on its feet, hoping it would be able to walk now that its leg was supported. It hobbled a short way, then lay down, bleating. She sighed, and picked it up again. Somehow, she would have to carry it.
Her eyes lit on the big basket she had made. She laid the gazelle in it, on top of the dried meat, for she did not want to leave that behind, and raised the basket to her shoulders. The calf sniffed delicately at the strips and wrinkled its nose, then settled itself against her warm belly.
The group set off, heading south along the river. Zena felt her body bend under the unaccustomed weight of the calf. She straightened quickly, determined not to ask for help. But when Agar took it from her later in the day, she did not object. Her shoulders were raw from the straps, and her back was terribly sore. The way was harder now too. They had left the wide track made by elephants, and had entered terrain unlike any she had seen before. Tall trees festooned with vines and ghostly clumps of moss closed in thickly all around them, hiding the sky, and the spongy undergrowth was warm and damp beneath their feet. The air was hot and thick with moisture.
Zena shuddered. She felt uncomfortable in this place. Everything around her was shadowy, indistinct. The thick canopy reverberated with bird song and other noises, but she could see neither birds nor any other animal in the dark mass of leaves. She clutched Cere's hand for reassurance, but soon the foliage became so dense they had to creep through it single file, and she had to let go again.
They came to a small clearing among the vegetation, and decided to rest. A shallow pool of dank brown water tempted the children. They ran to it and bent down to drink.
"No!" It was Lett shouting. Once before, he had been in a place like this, and he knew the pools could be dangerous. There was something in them that hurt the belly, so that those who drank became hot, and all moisture fled from their bodies.
The children leaped back. Lupe had already swallowed some, but he spat out what was in his mouth. The others drank sparingly from the gourds they had brought, and looked around them nervously. There could be other harmful things in this strange, damp forest, but they did not know what to fear, for none but Lett had been in such a place before. Kalar especially felt anxious, almost as if she were being watched. She stared into the impenetrable green that surrounded the clearing, but she could see nothing.
Zena took the calf out of the basket, so it could stretch, and went to look for some broad leaves to place on her shoulders, where the strap rubbed. The little gazelle followed her, hobbling on its three good legs.
"Three-Legs", she decided suddenly. "It is called Three-Legs."
She reached for a large, thick leaf, and examined it curiously. It was larger than any she had seen before, and downy white hairs clung to its underside. It might be good to heal skin, she thought, since skin, too, had hairs. She reached for another one, to show to Kalar, and jumped in astonishment. Behind the leaf was a face, the face of a Big One. Its eyes met hers for a moment, then they turned. Zena followed its gaze and called out sharply. It was staring straight at Three-Legs.
Kalar and the others ran over to Zena. The Big One emerged from the leafy brush, and as he moved, many others also emerged. The females were no bigger than themselves, but the males were massive creatures. Dark hair covered most of their bodies, and their jaws were huge, though their heads were relatively small. They shuffled rather than walked, but still they moved with surprising agility.
They had been all around the clearing, Kalar realized, watching them. Her skin began to crawl in apprehension.
But the big male who had emerged first made no move that signified aggression. Instead, he continued to stare at the little gazelle. He and his tribe had not seen meat for many moons. The herds had gone south, following the rains, and other animals were hard to catch in the dense foliage. This small animal would make a tasty meal. His mouth began to water, and he went toward it, to catch it before it leaped away. Guessing his intention, Zena ran to the calf and pulled it into her arms.
The big male stopped, surprised, and gestured to her to put it down. Zena shook her head. He made motions, as if eating it. She shuddered and held Three-Legs closer. He frowned, and looked at the others in his group, as if asking them what he should do next. They regarded each other closely, and seemed to decide something without words, for the whole group moved closer to Zena, surrounding her as they reached for the calf.
Lett and Bran and Agar broke through the group, raising their clenched fists to signify
that they would defend Zena. Puzzled, the Big Ones backed away. Again, the big male made gestures, as if eating. To keep an animal and not eat it was incomprehensible to him, and neither he nor the others could understand why these strange ones were defending it.
He became impatient, and began to pound his chest angrily. His urge for meat was strong, and these others were preventing him from satisfying it. The other males copied him; soon the small clearing resounded with their drumming. The females did not pound, but they screeched over and over in high-pitched voices. The noise became deafening. Kalar's skin prickled as she felt the danger escalate. She signaled to her tribe-mates to retreat, but the Big Ones would not let them go. They surrounded them, gesturing repeatedly toward the frightened calf.
"We must let them have it," Kalar whispered. "It is the only way. There are many of them, too many."
Zena held on stubbornly. She looked around the circle of threatening faces. One of the females was frowning in confusion, and Zena recognized her suddenly. It was one of the Big Ones with whom she had played, when she was younger.
"You come from the place by the big rocks," she said, referring to a large pile of rocks near the place where the Big Ones she had visited lived.
The female looked startled. The words had no meaning for her, but the sound of Zena's voice jogged her memory. She made a guttural sound of recognition, and stretched a hand toward Zena. Her companions looked at her searchingly. She uttered a series of grunts and gestures that seemed to signify children playing. The others looked back at Zena, and some of the hostility left their faces. But then the calf bleated and began to struggle in Zena's arms. It was terrified of these large, noisy creatures, and Zena was holding it so tightly it could hardly breathe. The Big Ones lurched toward it, their interest revived.
"Wait!" Zena's voice stopped them, though they did not understand. Still clutching the struggling calf, she ran over to her basket and pulled out some pieces of dried meat, which had begun to smell in the intense heat. The Big Ones sniffed appreciatively as she dangled the strips near their faces. The male took one and placed it between his huge teeth. The others reached for strips and began to chew. Their eyes lit up at the strong meaty taste, and they nodded to each other in agreement. This was not an animal, but it was satisfying anyway.
Zena looked straight into the big male's eyes and pointed to Three-Legs. "No eat," she said clearly, shaking her head firmly as she made eating gestures. Then she pointed to the strips in the basket, nodding vigorously.
"Eat these," she told them. "You take." She pointed into the foliage, the way they had come.
The big male seemed to understand. He took the basket and signaled to the others to follow him. They disappeared quickly into the dense cover, making almost no noise. The female who had recognized Zena touched her gently on the shoulder, and looked into her eyes before she followed. Then she, too, vanished.
Kalar went to a fallen log and sat abruptly. Even her calm had been shattered by the unexpected encounter, and she was not certain her legs would hold her any longer. Lett came and put an arm around her. The others followed, still blinking at the suddenness of the Big Ones' departure. They had seemed literally to melt into the forest. But it was Cere who was most affected. Zena, the one she loved more than any other, had been threatened, and she had been powerless to defuse the threat. She went to Zena and held her close, sobbing with relief. Zena hugged her back, trying to hold on to Three-Legs at the same time. The little animal bleated and stuck its head comically out between their bodies.
The children started to laugh unrestrainedly at the sight, releasing their tension in merriment. The adults joined in, and soon all of them were holding their stomachs, trying to contain laughter that threatened to explode into hysteria after their frightening experience.
The merriment faded quickly when a big shadow passed across the clearing, darkening it still further.
"The clouds come," Kalar said. "We must go."
She turned to Lett, seeking his help. His sense of direction was superb, even better than her own, and she relied on his judgment when she was unsure.
"We go to the grasses again," she told him, "away from this place, before the dark comes."
He nodded, agreeing, and pointed west. "We go that way first," he replied. "I do not know how far to the grasses."
They pushed their way into the thick foliage. Zena ran after them, desperate now to get away from the towering trees and clinging vines, the suffocating air, the dimness. Soon, they would not be able to see at all, and then the Big Ones might come back.
Shivering with fear, she pulled Three-Legs close against her chest. She had seen the big male's last, covetous glance. If he came again, she would not be able to save the baby gazelle, for there were no more strips of meat. She hurried on, unaware of the eyes that still peered at her from behind the lush green cover. But Kalar felt them, as she had felt them before. The Big Ones were following, so quietly she had not once been able to hear their footsteps.
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For hours, they struggled through the dense greenness, unable to find a clear place where they could hold themselves erect. Since the basket was gone, they took turns carrying Three-Legs. Bran and Agar, who did most of the carrying, often looked pointedly at Zena, as if to express their disdain at her foolishness. Still, they handled the calf gently. Like the others, they had quickly become attached to the little creature.
Soon, however, they stopped glaring and looked at Zena with new respect. For the first time, they grasped the importance of the slings she had made. With Three-Legs in their arms, they were unable to slap at the bugs that had begun to torment them, or even to push vines aside to pass. Soon they were bitten and scratched all over, and short-tempered with exhaustion.
Bran thrust the calf at Agar, unable to hold on to it any longer. Shaking his arms with relief, he looked back at the others to see how they were faring. It was Tempa's turn for the sling, and Cere was struggling to creep under the vines while she held on to her infant. Newly aware of the difficulty of carrying a helpless creature for many hours, he reached for the infant so she could rest her arms. She shook her head, panting, and pointed to Lupe. The child was doubled over with cramps from the water he had drunk. Dorn was trying to help him walk, his small face puckered with worry for his companion. Bran picked Lupe up and slung him over his shoulder. At least the child was old enough to hold on, so that one of his hands remained free.
Finally, they came across a vague track that seemed to lead the right direction, for the way before them lightened even as the sun began to ease behind the horizon. They struggled down it, too weary even to notice that the trees were thinning, that vines had ceased to grab at their shoulders. And then, suddenly, they saw grass. They stumbled into it and sank to the ground.
Zena looked at the sky as if she had never seen it before. Its huge arc rose all around her, and the western horizon was gaudy with orange and rose. She stared at it gratefully, but then her eyes began to close. She snuggled down next to Three-Legs, too tired even to eat. The other children slumped down beside her. Limp with fatigue, they fell asleep immediately.
Kalar looked at them dubiously. The group should move farther from the trees, but she was not sure she would be able to rouse the young ones again. She decided to let them sleep, but she did not relax her guard. She and Lett watched long into the night, then the others took turns guarding the group. All night long, she was aware of the Big Ones lurking behind the green cover, but no sound or movement betrayed their presence.
As soon as there was enough light to see, she roused the children and pushed them forward, toward some tumbled rocks she had sighted in the distance. If they could get that far, they would be safe, for she was certain the Big Ones would not venture far from their shadowy home in the forest. Gradually, as the distance from the forest increased, she realized that she no longer had the sensation of being watched, and she relaxed for the first time since they had set off the day before.
The rocky escarpment she had sighted proved even more hospitable than she had hoped. Wide trees covered with pod-bearing vines grew on the slope, and a shallow pond nestled behind the rocks. It was empty but still damp, and when they dug into it, they found both water and masses of clams. They feasted on them, smacking their lips at the fishy taste and the welcome juice that surrounded the pink flesh.
All they lacked now was fire. The burning stick they had brought with them had gone out as they had traveled through the wet forest. But even that problem was solved later, when lightning started a small fire. Sprinkles of rain, forerunners of the real rains, quickly extinguished it, but they managed to get fire into some sticks before the flames disappeared. They gathered more sticks, to keep the fire going, and settled down to stay for a few days while the children recovered their strength.
Kalar was especially worried about Lupe. He was weak and shivery, and he could not keep food down. She placed damp wads of leaves on his forehead to take the heat from his skin, and sent Zena off to find the herbs she had showed her earlier, for sickness in the belly.
"The bushes grow among the pebbles, in dry places," she told Zena, indicating an arid hillside just beyond the rocks.
Zena set off happily, proud of the responsibility. Three-Legs followed. The calf would not let her out of its sight, and if she did not pick it up, it hobbled after her. Already, it was learning to walk on its three good legs, though it still tired easily. Zena had fashioned a kind of leash, to keep it close. There were vultures soaring overhead, and she had seen an eagle earlier. The huge, crowned birds could lift newborn gazelles off the ground and into the sky with little effort. She did not know if they could carry Three-Legs, but she took no chances.
A thickset animal with light fur on its back ambled by her, snarling ferociously. She backed away, giving it plenty of room. It was an animal they called honey-digger, for it dug up the nests of bees and of ants that also made honey. Despite its small size, it would attack anything that got in its way.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 16