CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (36 page)

"Where are
the others?" her asked her.  She did not respond.  He named
them, one at a time, hoping she would grasp his meaning.  When he spoke
Toro's name, she frowned, and a fleeting look of anxiety crossed her
face.  Then she began to crawl around the base of the tree, searching for
more berries. 

"Food?" 
Kropor's voice was gruff.  If she really was alone this far from the
shelter, she must be very hungry.

Clio knew this word,
and she held out her hand as if expecting him to put food in it.  But he
had no food, only the berries she had already eaten.

"Wait,"
he told her. "I find food."  He lumbered off toward the stream,
where he had found the berries.  Before he entered the bushes, he looked
back to make sure Clio was waiting.  She had vanished.

Impatiently, he
returned to the tree.  How had she managed to disappear so quickly? 
If the child could not stay in one place, he could not get food for her! 
He scoured the field, becoming ever more irritated.  He had never paid
much attention to the little ones.  They were noisy and demanding, and he
had stayed well away from them.  But now this one, the one who understood
almost nothing, had found him, and he could not simply abandon her.  She
was too small to be alone, and he had seen lion tracks earlier.  

A soft sound made
him whirl in alarm.  Clio stood behind him, staring at him with her
impenetrable eyes.  Had she been behind him all the time?  Angry now,
he stamped his foot at her.  Clio looked at the foot, then at her own
small feet, and imitated his movement.  She raised one foot and stamped it
down, then the other, and then began to leap up and down with both feet at
once. 

Despite his anger,
Kropor laughed.  She looked so funny and determined.  Clio looked up,
startled at the noise.

"Come,"
he told her, beckoning, and this time, he did not let her out of his sight as
she pattered lightly behind him toward the stream.  There they feasted on
the bright yellow berries.  Kropor found a few snails, too, and pounded
them open with a rock for Clio.  She stuffed them into her mouth and
chewed with relish.

Abruptly, her
eyelids began to droop.  She yawned widely and nestled down among the
bushes.  Kropor looked at her curiously.  She was asleep already, he
realized.  She had simply curled up on the ground like a little animal and
gone to sleep. 

Reluctantly, he
knelt and picked her up.  He did not want her with him, but he could not
leave her here unprotected.  He would have to keep her at least until the
morning.  Perhaps then the others would turn up and take her back with
them. 

Clio sagged
heavily in his arms.  Awake, she could not be carried, for she wriggled so
determinedly that she had to be put down.  Asleep, her defenses
disappeared, and she seemed to welcome the closeness she could not tolerate by
day. 

Kropor carried her
toward a cluster of boulders he had noticed in the field, and piled grasses
between two rocks to make a soft place where they could sleep.  Hunching his
shoulders against the evening chill, he sat on one of the boulders to watch
while the light remained.  Thoughts of Ralak crowded his head.  The
child reminded him of Ralak.  Perhaps it was her diminutive stature, or
the blackness of her eyes.  But Ralak's eyes had been lively, full of
expression.  Clio's were inscrutable.

Kropor sighed
resignedly and slid down beside her.  At least for tonight, he would watch
out for her.  Clio snuggled against him trustingly, her body soft and warm
against his hard chest.  He covered her small form with one of his large,
hairy arms, and fell asleep with her breath on his face.

When he awoke, she
was staring at him.  He sat up, startled.  For a moment, he had
thought it was Ralak's face, for he had been dreaming of her.  But it was
only Clio.  Angered anew at her presence, and because she was not Ralak
after all, he rose abruptly and began to walk, watching constantly for any sign
of the others.  Clio followed, unperturbed by his brusque behavior. 
All that day, he paid scant attention to her, though he did help her to find
food.  In the evening, she fell asleep as abruptly as she had the night
before.  Again, Kropor hoisted her into his arms.  She felt more
familiar this time, and he carried her for some distance, toward some fruiting
trees he had seen.  They would provide food in the morning.  She
snuggled close when he lay down beside her, sighing contentedly in her sleep.

They continued in
this way for many days.  Each morning, Kropor awoke to find Clio looking
down at him, and each time, he thought he saw Ralak.  To think Ralak was
beside him and then be disappointed brought intense pain, and he became angry
with Clio for causing him such agony.  She stayed a distance away from him
until his anger dissipated, but she never cried or complained.  Instead,
she seemed content simply to follow him.  If she needed his help with
food, she ran up to him and tapped his leg, then she let a short distance come
between them again.  But she never let him out of her sight, and each night,
she snuggled in his arms as if she belonged there. 

One morning,
Kropor woke first.  Clio lay beside him, her round face peaceful in
sleep.  Thick, dark lashes curved gently against her cheeks, and one of
her small hands rested against his belly.  He picked it up and looked at
it.  Clio's eyes opened, and she smiled up at him, a rare, enchanting
smile that lit up her face and gave expression to her eyes.  Then the long
lashes fell again, and she turned away.

Kropor stared down
at the sleeping child.  This time, he did not see Ralak.  Instead, he
heard her.  "Keep her safe for me," Ralak was saying. 
"Keep her safe."

Tears sprang into
Kropor's eyes.  He wiped them away angrily.  But then his anger
vanished, replaced by a feeling of bewildered joy.  Ralak had spoken to
him; he had heard her, felt her presence.  Somehow, she was still
there. 

Another thought
intruded.  Perhaps that was why Clio had come.  Perhaps Ralak had
sent her, so he could keep some small part of her at least.  Could such a
thing be? Kropor did not know, did not care.  He had heard Ralak again,
had felt her near him, and that was enough.  His beloved Ralak had not
left him completely.

The dam of anguish
that had grown in Kropor's heart ever since Ralak's death suddenly broke. 
He began to sob, loud, agonizing sobs that resounded in the still air and
distorted his face into a terrifying grimace.

The sobs woke
Clio.  She sat up and stared, worried by his uncharacteristic
behavior.  Her small hand touched his face tentatively, then she put her
arms around his neck and rubbed her soft cheek against his rough one. 
Never before had she made such a gesture.  And when Kropor drew her close
and hugged her, she still did not resist.  His agony had reached some
unknown place deep inside her, and the need to comfort him had overcome her
terror of being held.

Kropor let her go
again quickly, sensing that her tolerance for closeness was almost gone. 
But he continued to hold her hand, and she did not pull it away. 
Together, they set off in search of the fruit.

Days passed, and
there was no sign of the others.  Kropor ceased to look for them, no
longer wanted to find them, lest they take Clio and leave him alone
again.  Clio had pulled the agony from his heart, and he did not want to
lose her.  She seemed as attached to him as he was to her, and seldom
strayed far from his side.  She often held his hand as they walked, and
sometimes she even let him carry her for short distances when she was tired or
they needed to go faster. 

Another week went
by in perfect contentment; then, without warning, Kropor's newfound happiness
dissolved.  Late one day, the sky darkened so suddenly he thought at first
that night had come.  But when he saw the massive black clouds that seemed
to have sprung up from nowhere, felt grit lash his face as violent winds
swirled in all directions, he realized a storm was upon them.  Hoisting
Clio into his arms, he ran toward a rocky hill where he had spotted a dark hole
that could signify a cave.  They could shelter there until the storm had
passed.

Clio resisted
strongly.  She beat at his arms with her fists and kicked against his
belly, uttering sharp cries of distress.  Kropor set her down, alarmed by
the wildness that had come into her eyes.  All day long, she had skipped
peacefully beside him, but now there was a look of savage excitement on her
face, as if she had suddenly been transformed into another creature.  She
did not seem to know him, or even see him, or anything else around them. 
Her frenzied gaze was focused on something far beyond, something no one else
could see.  

"Clio!"
He called her name sharply, hoping to penetrate her wild oblivion.  She
did not respond, but began to run toward the cliffs ahead.  Frightened, he
picked her up again and tucked her under one arm, ignoring her screams and the
frantic pummeling of her small fists and heels.  He sprinted into the cave
and gently set her down.  As soon as her feet touched the ground, she slid
from his restraining hands and charged out onto the rocks.  He leaped
after her, his heart thumping with fear.

Rain slashed
abruptly into his face, blinding him.  Kropor swiped frantically at his
eyes, unable to see where Clio had gone.  In that instant, she had
vanished, as she had vanished when he had first found her.  Sobbing now
with terror, he ran into the driving storm, straining to locate her shadowy
form against the dark cliffs.  The light was almost gone, and if he did
not find her soon, he might never find her.

His heart twisted
so painfully he doubled over.  He could not lose her, could not lose Clio
as he had lost Ralak.

Rocks clattered
behind him.  He whirled.  She was there, on the top of the highest
boulder, dancing, leaping, seeing nothing in front of her, behind her.  He
could tell she did not see, for her eyes were focused inward, on the demon that
possessed her.  She did not see the precipices on all sides, did not know
the rocks were slippery with rain -

Kropor lunged, but
he moved too late.  He saw her fall, saw her small body hurtle downward,
as if she were flying.  She landed on the rocks below and did not move
again.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Kropor staggered
through the woods, Clio in his arms.  He paid no attention to her frantic
cries or the fists that flailed unceasingly at his arms.  There was room
for only one thought in his mind: he had to get back to the shelter, so Zena
could fix Clio.  All the love he had felt for Ralak had transferred itself
to her tiny daughter, and the thought of losing her, too, could not be
borne. 

After she had
fallen, he had carried Clio to the cave.  Her stillness had terrified him,
and at first he had thought she was dead.  Then he had seen that her chest
still rose and fell at regular intervals, and he had realized she was
alive.  Still, he had not trusted the rhythmic movements, had watched them
compulsively lest they cease when he looked away.  Exhaustion had finally
forced him to lie down beside her, but he had slept with his face against her
lips, as he had slept that first night, so he could feel her breath on his
cheek and know it had not left her.

As soon as there
was light enough to see, he had headed for the shelter at a run.  It was
then that Clio had suddenly opened her eyes and begun to cry.  He had been
overjoyed to hear sounds coming from her, but she had been crying ever since,
and her screams tore at his heart.

He looked down at
her contorted face.  He had never heard her cry before, and he knew the
pain must be terrible.  It clouded her eyes, twisted her lips into a
pathetic grimace, especially when he moved fast.  To see Clio in pain was
monstrous.  To know that he worsened the pain by running was
unendurable.  But he
had
to run, had to find help quickly, lest she
die.  And so he simply ceased to hear and ran on, his breath ragged in his
throat. 

Darkness had
already fallen when he reached the trees near the shelter.  He called out,
but there was no answer.  Perhaps he was still too far away for them to
hear.  He came closer and called again, but even before his voice died
away, he knew no one was there.  No sounds or scents emanated from the
clearing; there was no babble of voices, no smell of sleeping bodies. 

Kropor's shoulders
slumped in despair.  The others had left, and now he might never find
them.  Then Clio would die, as Ralak had died.

Tears came to his
eyes, but he was too drained to shed them.  He sank down onto the earthen
floor of the shelter and laid Clio tenderly beside him.  Grasping one of
her tiny hands in his big palm, he willed her to stay alive.  There was
nothing else for him to do until the light came again, when he could see to
look for tracks, try to follow the others.

Twice during the
night, the sound of lions snuffling around the clearing propelled him upright
in terror.  The second time, a young lion poked its head into the shelter
and sniffed the air inquisitively. In the bright moonlight, Kropor watched a
deep crease of perplexity appear in the thick fur between its shining yellow
eyes.  Then it turned and loped away.

His heart thumped
with fear.  It must have been the lions that had forced the others to
leave.  Never had he known one to come so close.  He pulled Clio into
his arms, afraid to close his eyes again lest the young lion grow bolder still
and snatch her while he slept.

The sun still hid
below the horizon when he ventured out to look for tracks.  Even in the
dim light, lion prints showed all around the clearing.  Kropor shuddered
and stared fearfully into the trees. Then his straining eyes spotted footprints
left by the others, heading north out of the clearing.  Even when the
prints disappeared in the woods, he had no trouble following the trail. 
There were broken twigs and trampled grasses, and more footprints where the
earth was soft. 

Momentarily
cheered, he began to run through the shadowy woods.  The jostling
movements woke Clio; again, he closed his ears to her agonized cries.  He
had to find Zena and the others before they had gone so far he would never be
able to find them.

Another thought
broke through his preoccupation.  Ralak had asked him to keep Clio safe,
and he had failed.  Over and over, the thought repeated itself, an
agonizing refrain that kept time to his hurrying feet.  He ran faster, to
escape it.  He ran until the sun was high, and then he knew he had to stop
for a moment to rest.  Clio was struggling desperately, and he did not
think he could hold on to her any longer. 

He lowered her
carefully to the ground, fearing that the movement would hurt her even
more.  But her wails stopped immediately.  She pushed against the
damp earth, trying to rise to her feet.  One of her legs folded under
her.  She stared at Kropor helplessly, howling in pain and
frustration.  She wanted to follow as she had always followed, and she
could not.  He pulled her into his arms, murmuring soothing noises, but
his efforts to comfort her were unavailing. 

He lumbered
on.  Finally, Clio stopped crying, worn out with the effort, and lay limp
and quiet in his arms.  Kropor was relieved.  The light had almost
gone, and he was tired, so tired he had to make a conscious effort to put one
foot in front of the other.  He knew he should stop, but the scent of the
others was getting stronger, and he could not bear to give up yet. 

A big fallen tree
blocked his way.  Kropor struggled across it, and suddenly the scent of
the others was all around him, distinct and unmistakable.  They had been
here - all of them had been here - not too long ago.  He studied the
ground, straining to see in the darkness.  Their footprints were
everywhere, deeply embedded in the still-damp earth.  There were other
prints, too, the prints of a leopard.  He shivered.  If a leopard
prowled the area, he must move on quickly.