CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (21 page)

"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.

***************************

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. 

Three-Legs
gamboled clumsily toward the honey-digger, wanting to play, and was rewarded by
a savage swipe of the animal's heavy paw.  Zena pulled the calf sharply
backward just before the claws hit.  The small gazelle snorted with dismay
and began to tremble.  Zena picked up her pet and followed the ferocious
creature from a careful distance.  Perhaps it would lead them to honey.
 All of them craved the sweet stuff, especially during the dry season,
when fruit was hard to find.

The honey-digger
lumbered on, then stopped, as if looking for something.  Zena noticed a
small bird, just ahead of it.  The bird flew a short distance, perched on
a branch until the animal saw it, then flew again.  The honey-digger
followed.  Intrigued, Zena followed as well.  Abruptly, the bird
ceased to fly and stared intently toward the ground.  The honey-digger
stopped in front of it and began to dig energetically.  Soon bees were
flying everywhere.  Zena ran a safe distance away, but the animal ignored
the furious insects.  It just kept digging, and as it dug, it ate, shoving
its face into the gaping hole to consume any bees that remained in the nest,
the honey, the young ones inside - everything but the waxy coating around the
beehive.  This it left for the bird that had guided it.  The bird
pecked daintily, satisfied with its prize.

Remembering her
task, Zena began to scour the rocky hillside for the leafy twigs Kalar
needed.  When she had a big bundle of them, she hurried back to the
others, eager to tell them about the bird and the honey-digger.  Agar and
Cere followed her back to the place, hoping for some of the delectable treat,
but nothing was left.  Disappointed, they turned back.  Then Agar
spotted a hole filled with scurrying honey ants.  The voracious digger had
unearthed it as well, and the ants were trying to repair the damage it had
made.  On their abdomens were globules of honey, twice the size of the
ants themselves. 

Zena's stomach
rumbled in anticipation.  Grasping the ants carefully so they would not
pinch her, she bit off the tasty bundles of sweet stuff until her craving was
satisfied.  Then she and the two adults scooped some of the scurrying
insects into a basket and hurried back to the resting place.  The others
greeted them joyfully.  Honey was a very special treat, especially for the
children.  Even Lupe ate some, to wash down the bitter brew Kalar was
forcing down his throat.  The other children ran back for more, and soon
became expert at grabbing the wriggling ants and nipping off the delicious
honey without being pinched.  It seemed to restore their energy, and they
began to romp and play with their usual abandon.

They rested for
one more day and then went on.  Lupe was now recovering quickly, and Kalar
wanted to get to the lake before the rains came to batter them as they
walked.  Once at the lake, they could build a sturdy  shelter to
protect them, or repair their old one, if it was still there.  But when
they reached the familiar spot, two days later, they found their old shelter
occupied by others.  Bran and Agar, irritated at seeing strangers in the
place they considered their own, started toward the intruders, to force them to
leave.  Kalar called them back.

"We will
build another," she said.  Reluctantly, they turned back.

"That is our
place," Agar objected.

"All places
are the Mother's," Kalar replied.  "The land is Hers, not
ours."

Agar looked
sullen, but he did not argue.  He was tired and sweaty after the long
journey, and wanted more than anything else to jump in the lake and clean
himself.  All of them preferred to bathe every day, but that was hard to
manage when they traveled.

He ran to join the
others, who were already cavorting in the fresh, cool water.  When the
grime of the past week had been removed, they rubbed themselves with clumps of
sweet-smelling leaves and lay drowsily in the sun to dry.  After that,
they began the arduous job of constructing a shelter.  Grasses had to be
gathered for thatch to protect them from the rain.  There were thorn
bushes to cut with their sharp stones, then rocks had to be found to support
them, and long, slender branches for the roof.