CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (19 page)

But Zena took her
very seriously indeed.  She considered the problem, her head tilted to one
side, her lips compressed.  Bran and Agar started to laugh at her
thoughtful expression.  Zena stamped her foot in frustration.  The
two men always laughed when she tried something new. 

Cere came to her
rescue and barked sharply at Bran and Agar.

"Get
fruit," she told them sharply, knowing they were the best at climbing to
the high branches where fruit still lingered.  They ambled away, still
grinning.  Then she came close to Zena and patted her on the shoulder.

Zena smiled
gratefully, but she was still distracted by Kalar's question.  She had
noticed before that when the flesh of animals fell into the ashes and stayed
there for a long time, it became smaller and lost all moisture.  Once, she
had taken such a piece with her when they traveled, and chewed on it slowly as
they walked.  It had been tough, but the taste was good, and it had
suppressed her hunger.  It had not become rotten, either, for many days.

Lett had pulled
most of the flesh from the antelope's body and was cutting it into
chunks.  Later, they would put them on sticks and roast them in the
fire.  Zena asked for a slab and cut it into long, thin strips.  She
pushed them into the hot ashes with a stick, then she went to a place where the
vines were especially thick and supple.  Cutting off long pieces, she
constructed a loosely woven basket.  She wove one piece over another, as
they always did, but she made the basket very big, and she left two long
strands that could be tied over her shoulder.

In the morning,
before they left, she pulled out the pieces of dried meat and washed them
carefully in the river.  Frowning seriously, she handed one to each of the
others to put into their baskets.  The remainder she placed in the bigger
basket she had made and slung it over her shoulder. 

Kalar shook her
head in astonishment.  She was not sure they would be able to chew such
stringy pieces of meat, but the child really had tried to answer her
question! 

Bran and Agar,
however, looked at Zena suspiciously.  They did not understand at
all.  Why did she want them to carry such a shrunken piece of flesh? 
They poked her, wanting an answer.

Zena refused to
explain.  Instead, she stuck out her tongue at them and stalked
away. 

Nyta and Tempa
giggled at the males' discomfiture.  Soon the whole group was laughing,
not at the men, but at Sima and Lupe, Pote's small son.  Pote had died
soon after her son's birth, but Nyta and Tempa had suckled Lupe and he had
lived.  The two children were swinging the long pieces of dried flesh
wildly through the air, throwing them up and catching them again before they
landed on the ground.  Then Lupe struck one in the corner of his mouth and
began to strut around, twirling it with his teeth.  Dorn, Tempa's son, who
had been born the same year as Lupe, imitated him.  Even Zena began to
laugh, her good feelings restored.

Abruptly, the
merriment stopped.  Kalar was ahead, leading them along their usual
route.  They saw her stop and hold up her hand.  The fire had died
down during the night, but it had not gone out.  Now, as Kalar had feared,
it was burning slowly into the wide plain they habitually traversed to reach a
swamp, where there was almost always water to refresh them after the dry, hot
crossing.  They might be able to get across before the fire reached them -
but if the wind strengthened, they could be trapped.

Kalar made up her
mind.  They could not risk it.  Instead, she would lead them south
along the river.  The first part of the track she knew well, for a group
like themselves lived a day's journey away.  The two tribes interacted
often, to mate, or when Kalar helped their women in childbirth.  Beyond
that point, the way was unfamiliar and more dangerous.  Predators could
lurk in the thick brush, and both elephants and rhinoceros were attracted to
the thorny bushes and tall trees that grew in wide swaths near the river. 
Elephants could usually be avoided since they made so much noise, but rhinos
could lurk unseen in the bushes and charge at anything that came too
close. 

Another problem
worried Kalar even more than the bad-tempered rhinos.  Along the river
were scattered groups of small-headed creatures they called Big Ones.  Her
grandmother had told her that they were like people long ago, but the Big Ones
had never changed, as others had.  Like themselves, Big Ones walked on two
legs, but in other ways they were very different.  They did not speak at
all, but only grunted.  The females were no larger than themselves, but
the males were huge, with thick, strong bodies and massive jaws.  Kalar
had always avoided them, unwilling to provoke a challenge by intruding on their
territory.  As far as she knew, the Big Ones had never caused any harm,
but never before had she attempted to walk through the areas where they
lived.  Now, she had no choice. 

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

Zena was delighted
with the change of plan.  She loved exploring new places, and she had no
fear of Big Ones.  The area around the shelter, or even the variety of
places where the tribe searched for food, had never satisfied her boundless
curiosity, and she often wandered far from their usual haunts.  Only Cere
had joined her in these adventurous forays.  She had followed patiently,
interfering only to keep Zena from hurting herself, for she knew it was
impossible to stop her from looking behind every bush, into every hole in the
ground or nest in a tree, from exploring every hill and valley.  Still,
she never let the child get out of sight.  Zena was more important to her
than any other, even the young one she had recently borne.  The Mother
Herself had trusted her to care for Zena and keep her safe.

One day, Zena had
come across a group of Big Ones who lived a few hours north along the
river.  After that, she had visited them often.  She had few
playmates, since so many infants had died in those years, but there were many
her age among the Big Ones.  She liked the strange youngsters.  They
never answered when she spoke to them, but that did not deter her from showing
them everything she noticed - a butterfly, a baby gazelle leaping after its
mother on spindly legs, the shape of an animal in the clouds.  They
followed her pointing finger or excited gestures with their eyes, and listened
intently as she gave words to her discoveries.  But they never responded
in the same way.

Cere shuddered,
remembering.  The Big Ones had never seemed aggressive, but they had still
frightened her.  She was glad Zena was older and no longer yearned so
strongly for the companionship of other young ones.  Now she spent more of
her time helping the adults and experimenting with objects she found around
her.  Some were not very useful, like the stringy meat, but others surely
were.  Cere adjusted the sling, marveling once more at the freedom of her
hands.

The tribe started
off again, heading south this time.  Zena strode beside Kalar, glad to
have this chance to learn from the wise woman.  Whenever she saw a plant
she could not identify or some behavior in an animal that was unfamiliar, she
asked about it.  Kalar had observed animals for years, and could usually
answer.  As well as warning of predators, animals often told her that
storms were coming, or where food or water could be found.  But plants
were Kalar's specialty.  She knew all the flowers and shrubs and herbs in
the areas where they traveled.  Her mother had taught her their uses; she
had added her own knowledge, acquired through years of patient observation, and
that of the wise woman from the nearby tribe.  Kalar was as eager to teach
as Zena was to learn, and she watched carefully for specimens as they walked,
so she could identify them and explain how to use them.

"See the
shape," she said, holding out a leafy twig she had plucked from a nearby
bush.  "It goes many ways, like the fingers on your hand.  It
goes many ways inside you, too, to help sickness."

Zena nodded. 
Once, she had seen baboons eating this plant, as if they, too, knew the faintly
aromatic twigs would help.

"This one is
soft,"  Kalar continued, bending to pull up a succulent plant. 
"It goes on the skin and draws out the pain."   She crushed
it into a ball and placed it on Zena's arm, where vines had scratched
her.  The small cuts soon stopped throbbing.

Another she held
up for all to see.  "This kills," she said sternly to the
children. " Do not eat it."  Kalar knew that from her mother,
whose young one had died after eating this plant.

The children
stared, their eyes wide with alarm.  Zena held the plant, with its deep
purple flower and narrow leaves, and stored its appearance in her memory, as
she had stored the others.        A loud
trumpeting made her jump.  Kalar led them quickly away from the sound. 
The track they were following had been made by elephants.  The herd ambled
along, pushing down trees and uprooting bushes with their strong trunks, and
gradually a cleared path emerged from the brush.  The track made walking
easier, but if the elephants were using it, the tribe moved out of their
way.  The massive creatures would not harm them unless they felt
threatened, but sometimes the males were aggressive, especially when the time
of mating came. 

They went on,
walking through the brush beside the track, and watching carefully.  There
were no more loud calls, only a low rumbling noise that seemed to come from a
single animal, a lone female elephant who stood in the middle of the
track.  Her feet were planted protectively over a tiny calf.  Zena
watched as she prodded the calf over and over with her trunk.  The small
one did not move.  She looked questioningly at Kalar.

"It has
died," Kalar said, her eyes filled with pity.  "Its mother
mourns, as we mourn when young ones die." 

Zena took a last
look as Kalar urged them away from the place.  The elephant raised its
head and stared at her, but Zena thought it had not really seen her, for its
eyes were clouded with grief.  Her own eyes filled with sympathetic tears,
and for a long time, she was quiet.

A brown chameleon
darted across the ground in front of her, distracting her from thoughts of the
elephant.  It scuttled onto a leafy branch and then stood perfectly still,
its body stretched out along a green stem.  Slowly, as Zena watched, it
turned green itself.  She called to the children, to show them.  They
watched, open-mouthed, as its color continued to change.  

"It hides
that way," she told them.  They looked at their own bodies, as if
expecting them to change too.  Zena laughed.   "Only ones
like this change," she explained.  Then she had an idea, and ran back
to get some purple berries they had passed.  Standing Sima in front of
her, she drew a long line of purple, squeezed from the berries, across Sima's
small belly.  The two boys shoved at her, wanting a line too.  Zena
obliged by making a big circle on each, as well as a line.  They ran off
happily, sticking their decorated stomachs out as far as they would go.

Soon after, they
decided to stop for the night near a deep depression in the earth, where
elephants had rolled during the rainy season.  There would be water if
they dug deeply, for the elephants' heavy bodies had compressed the earth so
that it held water even when there had been no rain for months.

Agar had brought a
burning stick, and had managed to keep it going.  Sometimes the glow at
the tip burned out as they traveled, and then they were without the protection
of fire -  but for this night, at least, they would be safe.  They
gathered sticks and brush and settled themselves around the fire, glad to
rest. 

A call from the bushes
brought Bran and Agar to their feet, clutching the big stones they always kept
near them.  The others grabbed their own stones and drew together,
protecting the young ones with their bodies.  But when she heard the call
again, Kalar relaxed.  These were people from the tribe near the river,
whom they had often visited.  They would be welcome.

The bushes parted
to reveal an old woman.  Her face was wrinkled, her teeth so worn they
barely showed above her gums.  But she moved with dignity as she approached
Kalar and touched her gently on the shoulder.

"Greetings,"
she said, lowering herself slowly to the ground.  She was the wise one for
her tribe, and Kalar was glad to see her.  This was the one who had added
so much to her knowledge of plants.  She knew them all, especially those
that cleansed wounds and helped to make pain go away.

Three others came
through the bushes.  In their hands were some big fish.  Parts of the
river near their gathering place had dried up, leaving fish stranded and easy
to catch.  

"You
eat," one of the men told Kalar, handing her the fish.  "We have
many."  Kalar inclined her head gravely, to thank him.

Bran found sticks
that did not burn easily and speared the fish so they could be held over the
fire.  Soon their tantalizing aroma filled the air.  When they were
cooked, he signaled to Zena to find some big leaves, so he could place the fish
on them to be passed around.  Kalar took the first bite, for she knew the
fish was in thanks for her help when the women labored, and then passed it to
the old female. 

"You eat,
too," she told her, knowing the soft flesh would be easy for her to chew.

After that, all of
them dug their fingers eagerly into the fish.  When only bones were left,
they snuggled companionably around the fire, talking and relaxing.  Then
Nyta rose, calling to one of the young men from the other tribe.  Tempa
signaled to the other one, and they went off behind some bushes to mate. 
The young woman who had accompanied the group took Bran with her, and Agar
followed, to wait for his turn.  After each couple had rested, they would
trade partners, so that everyone who wished to had a chance to mate with
everyone else.