CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (9 page)

The memory
vanished as Dak's attentive ears caught a low sound.  It was not the
howling; instead, it was a whimper, like the sound young ones uttered when they
were hurt, or wanted food.  He edged forward cautiously, testing the
smoke-laden air with his nostrils.  A scent came to him and then
disappeared as a gust of wind pulled sodden leaves and ash from the floor of
the forest and whipped it at his face, but even in that moment he had known
that the smell was familiar.

The whimper was
louder now.  Dak's forehead wrinkled in consternation.  How could a
young one be here?  He had left all the others in the ravine.  None
were missing.  And the scent was not that of any member of his troop. It
was similar, but not the same.  He had known it before, though he could
not identify it precisely.  His eyes clouded as he tried to remember.

Now the sound was
right under his feet.  It came from beneath a big fallen tree. Dak held
his burning stick near the ground and stared into the tangle of branches. His
straining eyes focused on a small shape, deep within the brush. The shape
twitched. Dak knelt, trying to see more clearly though the driving rain and
soot-blackened air. He moved the burning stick closer. The creature flinched
away from it.

The stick's glow
illuminated the area and the dark shape took on meaning. It
was
a young
one, lying face-down against the damp earth. A branch covered its neck and
shoulder, pinning it to the ground.  On its back was a long, curved scar.

The hair on Dak's
neck rose at the sight.  The scar had meaning for him.  He knew it
immediately, but the meaning would not come clear.  He reached into the
tangle and touched the small form.  A hand thrust toward his face, and the
moaning began again.  Dak hesitated. To rescue a young one who was not
from his troop felt strange, but the nagging sense of familiarity that came
with this one tugged at his instinct to protect.

He looked
carefully at the fallen tree.  Most of its weight was supported by smaller
branches.  It was one of these that had pinned the youngster to the
ground. The others could break at any moment and crush the small form
beneath.  He tried to raise the branch, but it was held firmly in place by
the tree's weight and would not budge.  Clenching his teeth with the
effort, he crouched below a big limb and pushed upward with all his
strength.  Unexpectedly, the whole tree lurched toward the ground.  He
scooped up the small body and leaped away.  With a massive crack, the tree
settled against the sodden earth.

Dak stared down at
the little creature in his arms.  Blood covered its face, but its eyes
were open and staring.  It uttered a new sound, a call unfamiliar to Dak,
and raised a hand to his face.  Then it sighed deeply and its eyes slowly
closed.

Again Dak
hesitated.  The howling sounds still reverberated within him, and he knew
he had not found their source.  This one had not made such noises. 
Perhaps another was pinned beneath the tree, or lay wounded somewhere
ahead.  He scanned the area carefully, but he could see almost nothing in
the blackness.

The wind rose
suddenly.  It blew thick ashes into his face, whistled harshly in his
ears.  Then he heard a new noise, one that made him turn sharply toward
the ravine.  It was the sound of water slapping against boulders.  He
ran forward and peered into the deep gorge.  Already, the water had risen
so high it would cover his ankles if he stood there.  A picture of the others,
crouched under the boulder waiting for him, came into his mind.  He
hurried back the way he had come, his face wrinkled with anxiety.

The small creature
moaned piteously as his hurrying steps jostled it.  Dak looked down at the
sound, but he did not break his stride. The water was rising fast; he must
hurry. But when he reached the place where he had left the others, no one was
there.  His heart thumped in fear, and he looked frantically around
him.  Lightning flashed nearby, and the momentary illumination revealed
many sets of footprints on the north side of the gorge. 

Relief coursed
through him.  The others had crossed already.  Dak stepped cautiously
into the ravine.  Water swirled around his knees, then for a moment
reached his chest.  He held the youngster above the torrent as he stumbled
to the other side.  Soon the flood would be so turbulent no creature could
cross.  The others had been wise to move on.

He scrambled up
the far bank, studying the footprints carefully.  Already rain had obliterated
many of the marks, but he was able to tell that the others were still heading
north. All the day before, as monstrous clouds had poured from the mountain,
his mother, Rune, had gestured in that direction.  She knew of places the
others had never seen, for she had lived a long time.  When the mountain
had exploded, she had called excitedly, running north a short way, then coming
back to make them follow her.  And so they had started off, as fast as
they could with the young ones.  Dak himself had often seen a high plateau
to the north, when he had climbed the ridge to go to the pond. The place had
been green, and filled with animals.  It was far from the screaming
mountain, too.  They would be safe there.

The footprints led
to a clearing in the forest.  Fire had already burned it, so there would
be no more flames.  A loud chorus greeted his scent, which wafted before
him, and the others came toward him excitedly.

Dak's face
relaxed. They were all here. They clustered around him but moved back warily when
they spotted the bundle in his arms.  Dak gestured that it posed no
danger, and they crowded around again.  Gently, he held the young one out
for their inspection.  Rune came close and sniffed, her brow furrowed. She
stared at Dak with puzzled eyes and sniffed again.  Then she took Screech
carefully from Dak's arms and began to lick the blood from his face.  Her
face was gentle now, and soft cooing sounds of reassurance came from her lips.

Dak looked at her,
baffled.  This was behavior usually reserved for one of her own young
ones, or the young of her daughters. But how could that be? Two of her
daughters had died of a sickness that had killed many in the troop; another had
left in search of a mate.  Of Rune's young, only he and Klep remained in
the troop.  Before, there had been Apar; Rune had behaved like that with
Apar's young one...

Dak gave up the
puzzle.  Rune's behavior told him that she had accepted the young one he
had found, and that was all that mattered. 

Rune, too, was
puzzled, but she did not doubt her senses.  She had known immediately that
this was Apar's young one, that he had somehow survived.  His scent was
unique, and she knew it well.  Before his disappearance, she had cared for
him many times, had licked him and fed him, carried him in her arms, and the
smell of him told her he belonged. 

She gathered a
pile of leaves that had escaped the fire and laid Screech gently on them. 
He moaned again at the movement.  She studied him, her eyes alert. 
One of his arms was bent at a strange angle, and it was bruised and
swollen.  The bruise extended across his shoulder and neck.  Rune
turned him so the arm did not press against the ground.  Blood still
welled up from a cut on his head.  She licked it until the oozing stopped.

Screech stirred and
called out.  Myta's little ones, curious about the newcomer, tried to
kneel down to look at him, but Rune chased them back.  All night, she
hovered over Screech, not allowing the others to come too close. 
Occasionally, she drank water from a nearby puddle and pressed her lips to
his.  Most of it dribbled down his neck, but some went down his throat.
His face twisted with pain as he swallowed.  For hours, the heavy branch
had pressed against his neck, bruising everything inside.  Rune's eyes
were anxious as she watched.

Again, Screech
uttered the strange call.  Rune bent over him solicitously, but he frowned
and looked away.  He wanted another face there.  He wanted
Zena.  Her image came into his mind, and he smiled, a tiny, fleeting
smile.

Once, he had heard
her calling, but he had not been able to tell if the noise was real or part of
the dreamlike visions that had come in and out of his mind ever since the tree
had knocked him down.  He did not know if he had answered, either. 
Wearily, he shut his eyes again and resumed his waiting.  He had waited
all through the long hours when he was pinned beneath the tree, and he would
wait some more.  She would come to him; he was certain of it, for she
always had before.

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

Light filtered softly
through the sooty air many hours later. The redness had gone from the sky and
the rain had stopped. Dak rose from his resting place and stretched. Klep
grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the young one on the ground. Ignoring
Rune's scolding, he traced the scar on Screech's back with curious fingers. The
gesture pulled at Dak's memory. He saw himself at the pond, tracing the scar in
the same way.

This was the small
male at the pond.  But where was the young female with whom he had mated?
He frowned. This puzzle was not so easily dismissed. He had cared for that
female, and she was missing. Perhaps she too had been wounded, was still lying
somewhere. If he searched again, he might find her.

Rune came to him
and pointed north, wanting to leave.  Dak looked up at the smoking
mountain.  Fire and the terrible moving blackness could pour from its peak
again at any moment, and trap them here.  He sighed.  There was no
time to look for the young female.  He was the only adult male left in his
troop, and he must help Rune get the others away.

Sadly, he turned
away from the mountain and began to walk north.  Rune lifted Screech into
her arms and followed, but he was too heavy for her and she asked Dak to take
him.  Klep strode by his brother's side, trying to match his long
stride.  Myta's two little ones scampered ahead, chasing each other
through the woods as if there had been no volcano, no storm to frighten them
and make them flee from their home.

Myta followed,
calling anxiously.  The two young ones had been born together, almost a
year after Myta had appeared, thin and frightened, in the valley.  Rune
had chased her away at first, but Myta had refused to leave.  Day after
day, she had hung around the places where they slept and gathered food,
cringing submissively when any of them came close, and after a while they
became accustomed to her presence. Then Myta had signaled her readiness to
mate.  Dak and another male who had since left had mated with her many
times.  After that, his mother had accepted her as one of them.

Her acceptance was
crucial, for Rune was the undisputed matriarch of the troop. Dak watched her
admiringly as she strode beside him, her eyes fastened on the place to the
north where she wanted to lead them. Her vast store of experience was
invaluable to all of them.  She had taught them what foods to eat, where
to find shelter, how to protect and feed the young ones; she had led them to
new places when food was scarce.  During the drought that had killed so
many in the troop when Dak was a small child, she had brought them to the
valley behind the ridge, where food and water were available to those who knew
the territory, as Rune did.  Now, she was leading them to safety once
again.

Dak looked down in
surprise as the thick mat of damp, ash-covered leaves on the floor of the
forest abruptly gave way to a squashy substance that almost buried his
toes.  Looking up again, he realized that they had emerged from the
woods.  For the first time since they had fled from the volcano, he could
see far into the distance.  He gasped in astonishment.  The whole
expanse of land before him had been buried beneath a hard black crust. 
Above it lay a thick layer of ash, still damp from the rains. The ash-covered
lava stretched as far as he could see to the east and west, went all the way to
the edge of the deeply eroded escarpment to the north.  Above the
escarpment stood the plateau.  There, at least, he could see some green.

Klep called
excitedly.  He had found bones, sticking up from the lava.  Dak went
to see.  The bones still had the shape of an antelope.  It lay there,
as if sleeping, but much of its flesh was gone.  He pulled a bit of
charred meat from its ribs.  The taste was burned and bitter.  But in
another place, he found flesh not so badly charred, and he called to the others
to try it.

Rune pulled off a
piece and chewed it thoroughly, then leaned over Screech to put some in his
mouth.  He choked and cried out in pain.  She looked up at Dak, her
eyes clouded with worry.  The small male's lips were terribly hot.

Myta's little ones
swung on the animal's horns, chortling, while the others feasted on its
flesh.  It was the first food they had found since the day before. 
When their hunger was satisfied, they moved on across the wide stretch of wet
ash, leaving deep footprints behind them.  The sun bore down on the prints
and baked them dry, leaving an indelible record of their passage.

Suddenly, Klep
screamed and jumped frantically up and down.  Dak ran to him and began to
jump himself, for the ash was hot under his feet.  He pulled Klep away
from the place, but as the sun climbed relentlessly higher, all the ash began
to heat up.  By the middle of the day, they had to hop as quickly as
possible from one spot to the next, and they could not rest at all. 
Thirst began to torment them.  Dak thought of the wet leaves in the forest
behind them, and ran his tongue longingly over his cracked lips.

A big boulder
stuck up through the lava just ahead.  They collapsed on top of it,
drawing their feet gratefully away from the scorching ground, but thirst soon
drove them on.  Myta especially needed water, for she was suckling two
youngsters and they drew the liquid from her body. Rune led them around to the
right, pulling Klep behind her.  An instinct born of years of experience
told her this was the most likely direction in which to find water.  The
land sloped down on the right side of the plateau, and in such places, swamps
sometimes flourished.