CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (6 page)

Zena stared down
at the scar on Screech's back. The scream had come from here, from the ridge.
It must have been the leopard, not a tiger, which had made the mark, taken the
mother. Shuddering, she led Screech the other way, to the familiar pond, glad
that the leopard did not hunt here. Still, the incident made her nervous, and
for many nights her sleep was fraught with dreams, as it had been after her
mother's death.  Leopards and tigers stalked Screech over and over again,
and she could not help, for her legs would not move at her command.  The
dreams commanded them instead, and they twitched constantly even as paralysis
seemed to seize them.

After that, she
saw the leopard occasionally, but it never came near the pond. Slowly, her
nervousness diminished, though she continued to avoid the area behind the
ridge.  She found another place with red berries, and when Screech wanted
some, she took him there.  Soon, he could chew them for himself, for
strong teeth had pushed through his gums.  His steps became steady as
well, and as the months passed, he learned to run so fast Zena could barely
keep up with him. He loved to chase her, or run away from her, and stopped only
if she called to him in a certain way.  She used many types of hoots and
calls to tell him what food she had found or animal she had seen, if he should
run or hide when danger threatened.  Some she remembered from her mother;
others, they created as they were needed.  Once she had used a certain
sound, both she and Screech remembered it and used it again in the same way.
Soon, he was as adept at using them as she was. He copied everything she did
too.  He learned to sniff the air for scents and survey the area before
they ventured down to the pond, to listen for the sounds of danger.  His
hands grew ever more adept at digging for bulbs and tubers, at catching
tadpoles and frogs or small fish.

Everywhere, food
abounded.  Berries covered the bushes, and the trees by the river produced
wondrous bunches of fruit and nuts.  Grains ripened in the fields, melons
and tubers proliferated, and birds laid multiple clutches of eggs. 
Screech delighted in chasing the disgruntled parents from their nests with loud
shouts, while Zena grabbed an egg or two.  The others she left for the
watching birds to hatch.

Sometimes Screech
tried to catch young animals as well, but Zena always stopped him.  There
was no need now for flesh to supplement their diet, and it seemed wrong to take
a creature they did not mean to eat.  Instead, they watched in delight as
the tiny antelope or zebra he had found pranced after its mother on wobbly
legs.  Once, they saw a baby giraffe drop from its mother's rump, then
struggle to its feet and follow her, stiff-legged, to the pond.  Spreading
her legs clumsily, she lowered her head to the water and drank as the calf
suckled beneath her belly.  Elephants often trumpeted through the valley,
the babies clustered under the knees of the adults.  Their trunks ripped
steadily at trees and bushes to satisfy their insatiable appetites as they
plodded along.  Zena and Screech did not go too close to the massive
creatures, but they watched in fascination as the elephants wallowed in the
pond and sprayed themselves with their long trunks.  For days after their
visits, the pond stayed brown and opaque.

All that was
missing from their lives were others like themselves.  With Screech
nearby, Zena was no longer lonely, but she still felt strangely empty
sometimes. Thirteen years had passed now since her birth, and she was three and
a half feet tall, as tall as her mother had been.  A thatch of dark hair
had appeared at her groin, and the flatness of her bony chest had been
disrupted by the slow swelling of breasts.  She touched them sometimes,
and vague sensations stirred inside her, as if she should have or do something
she could not imagine.  Often the yearning came upon her when she ventured
near the top of the ridge. Smells came to her nostrils sometimes from the
valley below, caught briefly when the wind was right. They aroused memories of
her troop, of her mother and little brother. It was from this place that she
had heard the scream of another of her kind...

But she dared not
venture down the far side of the ridge.  That was leopard territory.

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

One morning,
feeling restless and uneasy, Zena loped down to the pond. Huge clouds scudded
across the sky, for the season of rain was almost upon them. Screech dashed
ahead of her to drink, then he started up the opposite hillside to search for
fruit, his favorite food.  It was scarce now.  For months, creatures
large and small had feasted on the succulent harvest, but soon there would be
no more until the cycle began anew, after the rains.

Zena did not join
him but stayed by the pond, chewing listlessly on some bulbs while she watched
a group of ducklings follow their mother into the water.  Every year, they
emerged from nests around the pond to entertain her with their antics. But this
time, her laughter turned to a cry of distress when she saw one duckling
disappear in a roil of muddy water.  Moments later, a turtle's head broke
the surface of the pond.  Jaws agape, it snapped at another
duckling.  But this one escaped into the weeds while its mother hissed
angrily at the turtle.

Screech called
from the trees, to let her know he had found fruit.  Zena answered him and
rose to her feet.  Another call, a low hooting sound, reached her ears.
She stiffened; the call was unfamiliar, and it had come from the rocks behind
her refuge, not from the trees.  She stared at the ridge, but saw nothing,
so she started up the hill to join Screech. Again, she heard the unfamiliar
call.  She whirled, and this time she saw movement.  A young male,
much larger than Screech, emerged from the thick bushes.  Alarmed, Zena
uttered a shrill cry.  Screech rushed toward her, but when he spotted the
strange male, he stopped abruptly.  The intruder stalked slowly toward
Zena, making soft guttural noises in his throat.

Zena stood
still.  She had no impulse to flee, though she did not know why. 
Instead, she stood her ground as the young male came close and sniffed
her.  He tried to mount her, and she snapped at him angrily.  He
retreated, startled.  She ambled back toward the pond, ignoring him. He
followed eagerly, though he cringed whenever she turned to look at him. 
He paid no attention to Screech, and after a few moments, Screech wandered back
toward the fruit trees. 

Zena led the male
to the pond and sat down on its grassy banks. Perching beside her, he stared
into her face.  When she did not return his gaze, he pulled up some juicy
plants and handed them to her.  She accepted them, but she still refused
to look into his eyes.  He sat patiently, watching every movement she
made. When she rose, he followed; when she ate or drank, he did the same. All
that day, he watched her and followed her, but in the late afternoon he climbed
up the ridge again and disappeared.  Zena felt an unexpected pang of regret
and her sleep that night was disturbed by the feeling of emptiness that had
plagued her so often in recent months. It twisted inside her, almost as if she
had not eaten, but she was not hungry.

The next morning,
the male was back.  This time Zena's treatment of him was less reserved,
and after he had come four days in a row, she greeted him with
enthusiasm.  She enjoyed the attention he gave her, and his presence
seemed to assuage at least some of the strange emptiness she felt.  Each
time he came, he brought a choice piece of food for her to eat, extending it to
her with a series of guttural grunts.  The grunts sounded like "dak,
dak," and soon Zena began to think of him as Dak.

Screech was less
enthusiastic about the young male's visits.  Whenever Dak appeared, he ran
to the fruit trees, or wandered off to sit by himself on the hillside, his face
forlorn.  He wanted Zena to pay attention to him, not to the strange male.
Zena sensed his distress, but for the first time since they had been together,
she ignored it.  She needed to be with Dak, and Screech would have to
wait.

On the fifth day,
when she heard Dak call from the ridge, she ran to him and stroked his
arm.  Then she led him slowly to the pond.  They sat there together,
almost touching.  When Dak handed her some bulbs to eat, Zena looked
deeply into his eyes. The expression she saw there brought a strange hotness
into her belly.  But now it was Dak's turn to look away, as if he were
embarrassed. Zena persisted, and after a time, he returned her stare. 
Mewing softly, she came close, so that her body pressed against his.  Then
she turned and presented her genitals. The hotness built inside her as he
sniffed between her legs and mounted her.  Moaning with pleasure, she felt
him go inside her and thrust vigorously.  The hotness grew and grew until
it reached a crescendo of excitement. Her body shuddered violently, and she
groaned, a low, intense groan of utter satisfaction.

In the weeks that
followed, she and Dak mated many times.  The act of mating was deeply
gratifying to Zena, and she wanted to do it over and over again.  Dak was
her willing accomplice.  Each morning, he approached her eagerly, often
carrying a choice bit of fruit for her to eat.  They mated and then sat
close together for long hours.

Finally accustomed
to Dak's presence, Screech often came to join them, clamoring for his share of
attention. When he had first seen them mating, he had hooted angrily at Dak,
and tried to pull him away.  But Zena had snapped at him, and Dak had
refused to move.  Defeated, Screech had sat by the pond and watched them,
a baffled look on his face.

After that, he had
ceased to object, and even greeted Dak with affection when he appeared on the
hillside each morning.  Dak, in turn, was tolerant of the younger male. 
He played with him, throwing stones into the pond to hear their loud plunk, or
running after him in wide, exuberant circles.  Sometimes, too, he just sat
quietly beside Screech and traced the long, curved scar on the small male's
back with gentle fingers, his eyes attentive.

One morning, Dak
did not return.  Zena was sad, but at the same time, she was strangely
content.  The emptiness inside her had been filled, and she no longer felt
restless or incomplete.  When her belly began to swell a few months later,
she was not surprised.  She had no idea what the distention might portend,
but it did not disturb her.  Screech, however, was very startled one
evening when he placed his hand on her belly and something inside it kicked
him.  He drew his hand away and stared at her, perplexed.  Zena
pulled his hand to her belly again and let him stroke her until he became
accustomed to the jolts within.

Many months later,
strong cramps disrupted Zena's sleep. An impulse deep within her had persuaded
her to build a second nest in a far corner of the cave, and she crawled over to
it as the cramping continued.  She crouched there, moaning softly. 
Screech came to nestle against her, a worried look on his face.  The bond
between them was very strong, and whenever she was hurt, he suffered. She
touched his face gently.

The contractions
became stronger, and she cried out in pain.  Screech whimpered and tried
to pull her to her feet.  Zena waved him away.  She had no strength
to spare for reassurance now.  All her energies were concentrated on her
belly, on the feelings inside her.  A heavy ache developed in her back,
and she felt an immense pressure between her legs.  The contractions
continued to intensify. One after another, they shuddered through her body,
leaving her no time to recover.  She barely noticed as Screech stroked her
abdomen and mewed softly beside her.

A fierce pushing
sensation overwhelmed her, even as the contractions continued.  She
pressed down hard with her muscles, to make it go away.  But the feeling
stayed with her; it wrenched and pulled at her, made her torso rise into the
air, then arch backward as the need to push, the forceful contractions, surged
through her body.

Water suddenly
gushed from her, and she felt something hard between her legs.  Gathering
her strength, Zena leaned over to see what it was. Blood covered the ground
under her; its smell filled the cave.  Strangely, it did not alarm
her.  And when she saw that a form was emerging, she was not alarmed,
either.  A strong thrill jolted her instead.  This was as it should
be.  She reached down to grab the small body.  It resisted for a
moment and then came free.  She pulled it up to her mouth and licked it
energetically.  It wailed, and Screech jumped backward.  Zena paid no
attention to him.  All her energies were focused on the little one. 
She licked it over and over, then held it close to her breast.  It rooted
for her nipple and sucked eagerly.  Screech came close again and watched,
his eyes round with surprise.

Light was
beginning to penetrate the cave, and Zena could see the infant more
clearly.  Its face was pink and crumpled, and its tiny skull was covered
with black fur.  Its hairless body was still covered with a waxy substance
that her tongue had not removed.  Like her, it had no protuberance at its
groin.  For a long moment, its eyes opened and it stared at her,
unblinking.  Zena stared back, entranced.  She mewed softly to it and
held it close to her breast again.  Its tiny hands clutched at her chest,
but this time it did not seek her nipple.  Instead, it slept, bleating
sharply from time to time as a tremor passed through its fragile body.

Suddenly
exhausted, Zena lay down on the matted grasses, holding the infant carefully
against her chest.  But before she could sleep, her belly began to cramp
again.  She rubbed it hard, trying to make the pains go away.  Soon,
the afterbirth appeared; following a strong impulse, she ate some of it. 
Then she cut the cord that had attached the infant to her with her strong
teeth.  Satisfied, she lay down again and slept far into the morning.