Lotan sighed heavily, remembering the time before the stampede, when everyone in the tribe had cared for each other. He had never known such friendliness and warmth. Now there was only indifference, the numbness of overpowering grief.
The misery in Zena's face made him want to comfort her, but he did not dare. She refused comfort from any of them. Only Three-Legs could get close to her, and often she seemed barely aware of the little gazelle's gentle nuzzling. She hardly spoke either. Before, she had been so eager to talk to him, to learn his words. Her curiosity had vanished, and she wanted only to be left alone. He understood. He, too, had lost the one who was most important to him. His mother was always in his thoughts, and he looked constantly for any sign of her or the others.
He went to Zena and pointed south. "That way?" he asked.
She shrugged and shook her head wearily. She could not answer him. Probably they should go south, to the lake, as they always had in the past. But once again, fires had cut across their normal route, and without Kalar and Lett to guide them, they felt helpless. Nothing seemed to matter to any of them, except the need to feed themselves and stay alive.
Finding food was harder now. All the implements that had made it easier - the digging sticks, the sharp stones and carrying devices - had been destroyed in the stampede. Bran had tried to make some stones like Lett's, but they did not work very well. And every time Zena started to make a basket or sling, she thought of Cere and the tears she refused to shed pricked behind her eyes with such force she could not see to work.
Only two items had been salvaged. Nyta still used the sling Zena had made for her, and just before they had left the clearing, she had gone to the circle of stones, for Zena would not, and had picked up the first wide-hipped figure Lett had made. She kept it with her always. Zena saw her holding it as she suckled Cere's infant, and the familiar anger rose forcefully within her, giving her energy.
"We must find shelter," she said. The others rose quickly and followed her, glad of any activity that distracted them.
Each afternoon now, they shivered miserably under a tree or rock, or whatever meager protection they could find from the heavy downpours. All of them knew they should build a more permanent shelter, but they lacked the motivation.
Zena spotted a pile of rocks below them. If they gathered some branches, and a burning stick if they could find one, they would have some shelter at least, and be safe from animals.
Lotan stiffened suddenly as they approached the rocks. A scent had come to him, a scent so heavy and unmistakable he could not be wrong. He grabbed Zena's arm.
"Male," he said urgently. "Bad male!"
She stared into his face. Fear dominated his features, but she saw hope there too.
Bran came closer, alerted by the tension in their bodies. "We go back," he said, when Zena had explained Lotan's words.
Lotan shook his head. "Find mother," he insisted.
"We hide to look," Bran said.
Zena nodded and they started back up the hillside to find a place where they could observe unseen, but they were too late. The big male had spotted them. He stood on a rock, squinting in an effort to see clearly. Even at this distance, Zena could see that one of his eyes was puffy and discolored. He wiped at it constantly, trying to clear his vision.
"Eye?" She looked questioningly at Lotan.
He pointed to the digging stick he carried, and gestured as if to poke it into his eye, then pointed to Kropor. Zena grimaced. This male must be very angry at Lotan, if he had hurt his eye so badly.
The big male uttered a low call, and two females appeared behind him.
"Mother?" Zena watched Lotan's face as she asked the question. He shook his head, disappointment heavy in his eyes.
Lotan moved closer, one step at a time, trying to see past Kropor and the others. Perhaps his mother was behind them; perhaps she was wounded, and could not walk.
"Mother! Ralak!" He called her name loudly.
Zena saw the big male's head turn sharply at the sound of Lotan's voice. The bigger of the two women came up to him and put a hand on his arm, as if to restrain him.
"Toro," Lotan called. "Toro, where is Ralak?"
"No. Go away. Not here." Toro waved him away frantically. Lotan paid no attention. He continued to came closer, calling his mother's name over and over again.
Kropor roared with sudden fury. He could barely see from his wounded eye, and until Lotan had came close, he had not known who he was. Now he did, and all his rage returned.
He leaped from the rock and charged at Lotan. Bran grabbed a stick and ran to defend the young male. Zena picked up a rock and followed. Nyta began to scream, wrenched for the first time from her dreamy complacency. Toro and Metep screamed, too, and Cere's infant began to wail loudly.
Kropor roared again and raised his fist to hit Lotan. Bran was just about to strike the fist with his stick when a piercing yell broke through the pandemonium, paralyzing all of them with its suddenness.
A tiny woman with an infant under one arm came hurtling toward them. She was shrieking words at Kropor with such force that he flinched as if she had hit him. Zena understood the words, for Lotan had used them too.
"Bad male!" she screamed. "Bad male!"
Kropor's arm went down and he stared at her in wide-mouthed astonishment. She had come back! He had thought he would never see her again, and she had come back! "Ralak!" he said, and to Zena's amazement, a huge smile creased his face. He beamed at the small, shrieking female as if she were the most wonderful sight he had ever seen.
Ralak was even more surprised than Zena. She had expected Kropor to strike her, not welcome her. Despairing of ever finding Lotan again, and knowing she could not survive on her own, she had been following Kropor, trying to summon the courage to join the group. And then she had heard Lotan calling her name, and had run to defend him, and Kropor had beamed at her.
It was all very perplexing. Ralak nodded authoritatively, to hide her confusion, and uttered a torrent of words Zena could not understand. It was clear, however, that they were directed at the big male, who had raised his fist as if to resume his attack on Lotan. But when Ralak's words lashed him, his body slumped. He looked at her pleadingly and held out a hand in a gesture of submission. She did not take it, for her anger was still too strong, but she did come closer to look at his eye.
She gave a sharp command, and Toro and Metep ran off. Totally bewildered, Zena turned to Lotan. But he had no time for her. He ran to the tiny woman and hugged her as tears poured from his eyes. Her face alight with joy, she tried to hug him back but winced instead. Lotan drew away, concerned.
"Arm hurt?" Zena asked Lotan. She did not need to ask if this was his mother. The expression of relief and caring in his face told her that. But she had also noticed that Ralak held her infant under one arm, while the other hung limply by her side.
Lotan nodded, and anger flashed in his eyes as he glanced at Kropor, making the yellow flecks glow like sparks.
Ralak intercepted the glance and spoke firmly. "No fights. I will not have fighting."
She looked sternly at Kropor, then at Lotan, then back again. She still had no idea why Kropor was behaving in such a submissive fashion, but she was determined to take full advantage of her apparent power over him.
Bran came to stand beside Ralak, to reinforce her authority. He did not understand her words either, but he knew Kropor had to be controlled and was willing to help. Even bigger than Kropor, he was a formidable adversary, and Kropor's eyes dropped quickly.
"Now we fix the eye. Sit," Ralak commanded Kropor when she thought he was sufficiently cowed. She pushed his shoulder to make sure he understood.
Toro and Metep returned with a bunch of plants and some water in a gourd. Toro took the infant as they handed both to Ralak. Zena came close to watch as Ralak carefully stripped the leaves and immersed them in water. Her hands itched to help, and she looked questioningly at the older woman.
Ralak nodded, understanding. Togeth
er, they finished stripping the leaves and soaking them. Ralak squeezed gently and placed the poultice on Kropor's eye. Then she sat back on her heels and regarded Zena with a look so intense and direct it seemed to penetrate all the way to Zena's heart.
Zena returned the look without embarrassment, without restraint. Ralak's eyes seemed already to have laid bare her heart, so there was no point in evasion. Instead, she simply absorbed the feelings that came to her from this extraordinary woman. There was little comfort in her candid gaze, but still there was solace, a kind of understanding, as if she had known Ralak for a long time already. Somehow, she seemed infinitely familiar...
A strange tremor, like the one that had jolted her when she clung to the tree, coursed through Zena's body. She shook her head hard, as if to clear it.
Ralak reached out and patted her arm. "We will speak of many things," she said enigmatically. Then she rose quickly to her feet. The first drops of the afternoon rains were falling, and it was time to seek shelter.
She trotted toward the pile of rocks Zena had spotted earlier. Zena clambered up on them and pointed to a place where there was room for all of them to sit, and branches could be placed overhead. Ralak nodded vigorously and issued instructions to Kropor and the two females.
"We help them build a shelter," Zena said to Bran and the others. They ran to break off leafy branches and gather piles of twigs and mosses, as Toro and Metep were doing. Kropor stood uneasily by himself, but when they began to make the roof, he shouldered the heavy branches and helped to shove them into place. Before long, they had constructed a solid shelter that hardly leaked at all. They piled in together as the downpour increased, and looked at each other self-consciously.
Kropor especially was uncomfortable in such close proximity to many strangers, and glared at them fiercely. Ralak saw him glaring and hurled another barrage of words in his direction. He looked up at her, his eyes forlorn, and subsided in a corner. Ralak had come to fill a place in his heart he had not known existed. The agony he had felt when she had disappeared had frightened him, and he did not want to experience it again. He wanted only to please her, and if that meant he must tolerate strangers, he would manage it. He would tolerate Lotan, too, if only Ralak would stay nearby. He could not bear the thought of losing her again.
Toro and Metep moved over to sit beside him. They were used to Kropor, and his surliness did not bother them. But Zena and the others were not accustomed to males of his type and watched him suspiciously. Agar had sometimes lashed out at others, but he had never harmed a female, as Kropor had harmed Ralak. They slid as far away from him as they could get, while Bran kept his eyes on the big male's face, challenging him. Then Three-Legs poked her wet head into the shelter, looking comically eager to join them. The children's laughter dissipated the tension. Toro and Metep exclaimed with amazement and delight as Zena drew the little gazelle in to sit beside her.
Zena looked around her in astonishment. Only a short time ago, she and the others had been alone, feeling miserable and angry; now they were sitting peacefully in a new shelter with a strange group of people - and it was Ralak who had brought about this remarkable transformation. She looked again at the tiny woman, marveling at her composure. She was like Kalar in that way, except Kalar had been quiet and slow, always serene. Ralak was quick and energetic, full of animation.
Zena realized with a start that thinking of Kalar had not brought the familiar twinge of unbearable anguish into her heart. Somehow, in Ralak's presence, the agony was more tolerable.
A spasm of pain crossed Ralak's face as her shoulder was jostled in the confined space. Zena frowned in consternation. She had been so busy watching Ralak that she had forgotten she was wounded.
She crawled over and began to examine the shoulder with gentle fingers. She did not feel any broken bones, but the upper part of Ralak's arm was bruised and swollen. It seemed to hurt most when she moved her shoulder. Zena decided that she would bind the arm to Ralak's body, so it would stay still.
As soon as the rain subsided, she took Sima with her and went to look for leaves for a poultice, to draw out the swelling, and vines to bind the arm. Thrilled to help Zena, after all the weeks of being ignored, Sima quickly pulled down more vines than Zena could possibly use. Zena thanked her and bound Ralak's arm to her side, after she had placed the soft leaves all around the shoulder. Then she looked resignedly at the remaining pile of vines. With one arm strapped down, Ralak would not be able to carry the infant very well. She would have to have a sling.
Keeping her head low so the others could not see her face contort with the effort not to weep, she set about making a sturdy sling. For hours, she worked, squeezing her eyes tightly over and over again to force the tears back. A few of them dribbled through anyway, and she gritted her teeth in anger. She hated them, hated everything that had caused them. Especially, she hated the Mother, for hurting them so badly.
Rage came flooding back as she continued to battle her tears. But now it was stronger than ever because she was furious at herself as well as the Mother. She had allowed herself to be distracted by the unexpected events, had allowed herself to feel almost happy again, instead of nourishing the anger that would pay the Mother back. She pulled at her anger, forced it to fill her, used it keep her heart hard against the Mother and to dampen the terrible grief that threatened to overwhelm her as she concentrated on the task Cere had loved so well.
Bran saw Zena's struggle; he also saw that the others were staring. Once, he might have teased her; now he wanted only to help. He pulled out some sticks he had collected and began to sharpen them with a stone. Soon everyone's eyes were on him instead of Zena, and all the others wanted to sharpen sticks, too. He sent Lupe out to find more. Like Sima, Lupe was thrilled to be included again, and returned with a big armful. Despite his bad eye, Kropor especially proved to be good at scraping, and soon produced a number of well-sharpened sticks. The activity seemed to calm him. Concentration replaced the hostility in his face, and he forgot to glare.
Ralak, too, was aware of the battle Zena was waging, but she did not try to help. It was good that the child struggled. The anger and grief Ralak had seen when she stared into Zena's eyes had to emerge. Until they did, Zena would be paralyzed, unable to make use of the gift that lurked deep within her. Only a few had the ability to see and hear and feel with their minds as well as their senses. Though she did not know it yet, Zena was one of these.
Tears of gratitude came into Ralak's eyes. Since the death of her mother, there had been no one who could grasp what was in her mind, no one to whom she could pass on her knowledge. But Zena would understand; even without words, the knowledge would go into her. Ralak knew this because already she had seen Zena's thoughts, felt them as if they were her own, as she had once known her mother's thoughts.
The rain stopped and the others went outside to look for food. Intent on finishing the sling, Zena did not move. Ralak watched her carefully, keeping her eyes soft so she would not disturb her. But when Zena leaned over to give her the sling, Ralak placed a hand under her chin and raised her face so she could look into her eyes. She saw the held-back tears, the pain, the stubborn anger. Shaking her head slowly, she drew the girl against her and uttered a flow of soothing words.
Something broke in Zena; she felt it break, as if a hard barrier had dissolved. The tears she had refused to shed ever since the stampede streamed down her cheeks onto Ralak's warm skin. With them went the anger, the terrible, paralyzing anger. Ralak felt it emerge and fill the shelter, and she willed it away. Anger, like fighting, had no place here. She would not have it. Digging her fingers into the earth, she called on the earthforce for strength. It had helped her before and it would help her now, as she pulled the anger from Zena's heart and sent it reeling into the clouds, so it would never be able to enter her again.
Zena gasped and shuddered, her body tormented by the bitter flood that spewed from it. After the anger was gone, the grief that had been locked behind poured out in great, gu
lping sobs of anguish. All of it drained out of her, leaving her exhausted and empty. But when her sobbing had diminished, the faces of the ones she had lost came into her mind, and the caring in her heart for each of them filled the emptiness. All the space her anger and grief had occupied was inundated with the strength of her love for them. She knew now that even though they were gone, they were with her still. She did not understand how that could be, but to feel their presence within her was enough.
As suddenly as it had begun, Zena's weeping stopped. She uttered a final wrenching sob, then she laid her head in Ralak's lap and slept. All through the night, she did not move. When she finally raised her head, brilliant beams of light were dancing through the cracks in the roof. They landed on her arms, her head, her belly. She lay still, feeling them course through her body. It seemed to her that they were giving her back the warmth and energy, the curiosity, that had once been hers. She smiled, and welcomed the new day.
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Zena and Ralak and Lotan sat with their heads close together, speaking of the Mother and the earthforce. Many seasons of rain and dryness had passed since they had come together, and they understood each other well. Each tribe had learned the other's words; the words had merged and multiplied in the process, as they put meanings together and found new ones.
Sima and Lupe crouched nearby, making pictures of words as they listened, and mouthing them so they would remember. Bran and Kropor were sharpening stones and digging sticks. Kropor excelled at this task, and the others had become dependent on his special expertise. Their praise made him less wary, and he was seldom violent anymore. He was still easily irritated, but he was also fiercely devoted to Ralak and did not want to displease her. When anger overcame him, he disappeared for a time, and when he returned, he behaved.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 22
