CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (33 page)

At first, the
damage had not been apparent, for Clio grew like any other child.  But
when the time came for her to speak, her tongue seemed unable to frame words,
her brain unable to comprehend them.  She did not understand fear,
either.  As precocious physically as she was limited mentally, she had
quickly learned to run without inhibition in any direction that pleased her,
toward any creature, any cliff or body of water, however dangerous. 

The child stood now
and regarded Kropor without fear, unaware that his behavior posed a
threat.  He raised his stick high, as if to bring it down on her
head.  Zena thought he did not see Clio at all, and jumped forward to pull
her out of the way. Toro got there first and grabbed the child just before the
stick crashed.  Clio clung to her, finally frightened by the abrupt
gesture.  Toro was her mother even more than Ralak had been.  Once
she had started to run, Ralak had been too weak and ill to care for her, and
Toro had taken over.  It was always Toro Clio wanted when she was hurt.

Kropor dropped the
stick suddenly.  He ran around the edges of the clearing, picking up
everything the branch had swept away, and threw each object to the ground with
angry force.  A cutting stone bounced near Bran's foot, and he charged at
Kropor, to stop him.  Kropor paid no attention. 

Zena called his
name loudly, trying to penetrate his agony.  But Kropor only stared at her
unseeingly.  She came closer, to touch him, but backed away quickly when
he raised his arm as if to strike her.  Bran and Lotan appeared by her
side.  Kropor roared at them, but there was no aggression in his tone,
only helplessness.  He began to shuffle despondently in ever-widening
circles, moving away from the others.  Bran and Lotan let him go. 

Just as he entered
the trees, Kropor raised his head and stared at the group huddled on the
opposite edge of the clearing, as if he were seeing them for the first time
since he had begun to howl.  His eyes widened in an expression of
horror.  Another wrenching howl escaped him, then he turned and ran,
crashing through the underbrush like a demented animal.

Toro looked after
him, her face reflecting an agony of indecision.  Kropor was her mate; she
had been with him now for many moons.  With Ralak gone, her loyalty was to
him, not the others.  Holding Clio tightly with her free hand, she
followed his retreating form.  Metep trudged after her mother, one hand
resting protectively on her swollen belly. 

Zena looked after
them sadly.  There was nothing she could do. Toro had always cared for
Kropor, despite his devotion to Ralak, and Metep needed to be with her
mother.  She was certain Kropor would not harm them now.  He had
spent his rage, and only grief was left.  Perhaps Toro could help with
that. 

Clio was another
matter.  Zena wanted badly to call the child back, but she knew it was no
use.  Clio would not leave Toro.  And in the end, only the Mother
knew the answer to Clio; only the Mother could keep her safe, for she was uncontrollable,
like the earthforce at its most extreme.  Zena saw it in her wild,
fearless eyes that flashed like lightning when storms came, in the exuberance
of her body as she ran to greet the thunder.  Clio loved storms.  She
danced then, frenzied, graceful dances that lasted until she sank exhausted to
the earth, and had to be carried back to the shelter.  Only at these
times, and when she slept, could she be restrained for more than a
moment. 

Ralak had
understood.  "I pulled too hard on the earthforce when Clio was born,"
 she had said once.  "Now she belongs to it, and not to
us."   There had been no sorrow in her tone, only acceptance.

Zena struggled to
accept, as Ralak had accepted, as she knew Kalar would have accepted.  To
be truly wise, she must trust.

Determinedly, she
turned back to Ralak.  Lotan was kneeling beside her, crooning her name in
sorrow.  He had loved his mother more than any other, and to be without
her seemed impossible.  Zena left him there and went to the stream, where bushes
redolent with snowy blossoms grew in thick clumps.  She broke off a bundle
of fragrant branches and carried them back to the shelter.  Gently, she
placed the soft clusters on Ralak's body, covering all but her face.  The
pale blossoms gave off a tangy scent that seemed right for one such as
Ralak.  They would protect her and sustain her with their fragrance. 

When she had
finished, she gathered the others around her.  From this moment on, each
death, each birth, each animal that gave its life to feed them, each season of
life-giving rain, each gathering of the earth's bounty, must be remembered and
blessed.  That was the Mother's way, and she would honor it.  She
stood at Ralak's head, and her voice rang out as if she had spoken thus all her
life.

"Great Mother,
Earthforce, Giver of All Life, take Ralak back to Your heart.  Always, she
has been one with You, one with the earthforce that gave her strength, one with
the Mother whose love she came to know.  Now she is Yours once more. 
We commend her to You."

Zena looked down
at Ralak.  "Go with the Mother, Ralak," she told her
quietly.  "The love in our hearts goes with you."

Struggling to
control the tears that had welled up when she looked into Ralak's still face,
Zena continued.  There was more she must say, words she should have said
long ago but had been unable to utter.  Now her voice was low, filled with
sadness.

"Great
Mother, hear me now.  It is of Kalar I speak, and Cere and Lett, and all
the others who died so brutally.  Still, I do not know why this should be
so, but I know You have taken them back to Your heart, and that is
enough.  I speak to You now of them, and through You, I speak to
them."

"The love in
our hearts goes with all of you," she told the ones who had died. 
"Always, you live within us.  I feel your wisdom, Kalar, and I feel
Cere's love, and the loyalty of Lett, the knowledge of the Mother's creatures
that came from Agar, Tempa's willingness always to help..."

Zena named them,
one at a time, names she had not spoken for so long her mouth had almost
forgotten how to frame the sounds, as she remembered each face and
personality.  When she had finished, she commended them to the
Mother. 

"Keep them
safe in Your heart," she concluded.  "Like Ralak, they live
within us, but they are Yours now."

Zena's voice faded
and she sat down abruptly, exhausted by her efforts.  Bran watched her,
astonished at the change her trip to the mountain had wrought.  Zena, the
serious child he had once teased, had become a wise one.  He had seen the new
strength in her stature when she had risen, had heard the unmistakable power in
her voice when she had spoken to the Mother.  She reminded him of Kalar,
with her sturdy body, her wide hips and big head.

He yawned and went
to put wood on the fire.  Darkness would fall soon, and it was his job to
keep them safe.

Zena lay near the
fire as silence descended on the clearing.  She felt cleansed of a burden
she had carried too long, and ready to listen for the Mother's message. It was
always at these times, when day turned into night, or night became day, that
the Mother had spoken to Kalar, for these were the times of silence.  She
must learn to listen in the same way. 

Zena opened her
mind and waited, but weariness undermined her resolve, and she slept until a
frantic voice aroused her.  She sat, suddenly awake.  It was Toro
shouting, and her voice was full of fear.

Zena ran to the
edge of the clearing, calling loudly as she ran.  Bran and Lotan sprinted
beside her.

Toro burst from
the trees.  "You must come," she said.   "Clio
has gone.  She was sleeping beside me, but now she has gone.  It was
the moon - "

She broke off,
sobbing, but Zena knew what she meant.  Like storms, the moon attracted
Clio powerfully.  It seemed to pull at her, as it had pulled at Zena
earlier.  Sometimes, when the moon was full, Clio ran toward it as if she
thought she would fly, as the birds flew, and reach it. 

"Bring sticks
with fire," Zena instructed.  "Nyta can stay to guard the
others.  Bran can come with me, and Lotan." 

"Keep
Three-Legs," she added.  "Do not let her
follow."   They each grabbed a burning stick and hurried after
Toro.  The trees were dark, despite the full moon, but presently, they
came out into a small, clear space, where some light came through. 

"We were
sleeping here,"  Toro explained.  "We could not find
Kropor.  He moved too fast."

Metep was huddled
fearfully in the darkest corner of the clearing.  She did not rise, but
clutched her belly, groaning, as a strong contraction racked her.

Toro's eyes widened,
and she bent anxiously over her daughter.  "The infant comes,"
she said to Zena.  "We must go back to the shelter."

Zena nodded. 
The night would be busy between Metep and Clio.  The Mother had certainly
not waited long to provide her with challenges!

"Take Metep
back while she can walk,"  she instructed.  "We will look
for Clio and follow."

Metep struggled to
her feet and set off, leaning heavily on her mother.  Zena looked at Bran
and Lotan, seeking their advice.  The search seemed almost
impossible.  Clio could have run in any direction.  They could call
her name, but she might not answer, might not come even if she saw them. 
A child of the woods, she had no fear of being alone among the dark
trees.  She did not understand the dangers.

"We must
try," Bran said, answering her unspoken question.  Lotan nodded
vigorously.  Clio was his little sister, the one he had held close when
she was tiny.  She was all he had left of his mother.

"We each go a
different way, and return here to meet, then try again,"  he
suggested.

Clutching their
torches, they trudged separately through the dark forest, calling loudly as
they walked.  There was no answer; they met and tried again, but still
there was no sign of Clio. 

"We wait here
with a fire until the light comes, and then look again,"  Bran
said.  "You return to Metep."

Zena nodded
reluctantly.  Bran was right.  They would never find Clio in the
darkness.  The moon had vanished behind thick clouds, and now the night
was utterly black.  Still, she did not want to give up.  Without the
moon to follow, Clio would surely be afraid.  She might have fallen, could
be lying somewhere, hurt and crying.  A predator might find her, or the
hyenas.

Zena thrust her
fear away.  Fear would not help Clio; only calmness and trust would do
that.  Closing her eyes, she tried to will feelings of peace and security
to Clio, tried to visualize her accepting the certainty of the Mother's
protection.  Clio had no words, but Zena was certain she could feel
thoughts in her own way.  She had the earthforce strongly within her as
well, and it would guard her.  Comforting herself with these thoughts,
Zena trudged wearily back to the shelter.

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

Deep in the woods,
in a hole between the roots of a tree, Clio frowned.  The moon had
disappeared, and without it, she did not know where to go.  She had
followed it, and then it had hidden, so she had crawled beneath the tree to
rest. 

Something rustled
in the underbrush, as if a large animal were moving.  Clio froze. 
Her breath barely moved in her chest, and even her scent seemed to
disappear.  It was not fear that kept her motionless, but instinct, the
instinct of an animal with no other form of protection.  The rustling
stopped.  Clio's eyes closed, but even in sleep, her body was utterly
still.

Toward morning, a
shadow passed over her.  Sleeping soundly now, Clio did not see it. 
She did not hear, either, for the creature that stared down at her made no
sound as its feet trod the damp earth.  Perhaps, though, she felt the
strength of its intent gaze, or smelled it, for she suddenly opened her
eyes.  A scream rose in her throat, but she did not utter it. 
Instead, she held out her hand.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Sima burst into
the clearing, her body tense with fear. "Lion!" she gasped. 
"I saw its tracks, near the place where we lost Clio."

Every morning
since Clio's disappearance, Sima had scoured the nearby woods looking for
her.  She was nine now, and took a keen interest in all the young ones,
but Clio had aroused a special protectiveness, since she could not speak like
the others, and seemed to understand so little.

Lotan dropped the
statue he had been carving and jumped to his feet.  He, too, spent most of
his time looking for Clio, and refused to believe she could not be found. How
could she disappear without a trace?  But if a lion was in the area, that
was possible.  It could have sprung on her and dragged her away, and they
would never know.

"Show
me," he said urgently to Sima, grasping her hand.  Together, they set
off into the trees.  Bran grabbed a stout stick and followed, with Lupe
behind him, as always.

Zena watched them
go, anxiety stilling her fingers in the middle of a stroke as she sharpened her
stick.  Over and over, she had  waited for a message from the Mother
that might help them to find Clio.  But nothing had come.

That was not true,
she realized, sitting back on her heels to reflect.  Each time she thought
of Clio, a strange feeling of peace washed over her, erasing the anxiety that
had accumulated as the days passed without any sign of her. 

Perhaps the
peaceful feeling itself was a message, she thought hopefully.  It seemed
impossible that the child could still be all right, after so many days and
nights wandering by herself.  But if the Mother was protecting her,
perhaps she was safe.

Still, the
appearance of a lion was worrying.  Normally, lions stayed in the plains,
where the zebras and antelopes they preyed on were plentiful.  Only hunger
would have brought it so deeply into the woods, and Zena could not imagine how
even the Mother could protect a helpless child against a hungry lion. 
Worse, if one lion was in the area, there must be others.  At this time of
the year, each lioness was trying to feed herself, her growing cubs, and one or
two males for whom she hunted.