CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (46 page)

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Nevilar had watched
the proceedings with an intensity that rivaled Zena's.  She, too, had seen
the flash of hatred in Tron's eyes, the blankness that followed, and had
covered her lips with her hand to hide her smile.  No one must know that
his reaction gave her secret pleasure.  Tron did not care for Zena, as she
had feared.  All the other young men liked Zena best and talked about her
constantly, even when Nevilar took them to her own mating place.  But
Tron, at least, did not.  The hatred in his eyes, the scathing tone he had
used earlier made that clear.

She stared hard at
Tron, trying to induce him to return her gaze.  She wanted him to know
that she, at least, cared for him, that she would support him.  But he
kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on the ground, and would not look at her. 

If only he had not
been denied Akat.  That would be the best way to let him know of her
caring.  Already, she had mated with him many times.  He was not a
very good lover, for he was brash and forceful and too quick to leave her, but
she still found him desirable.  His strong, swarthy body appealed to
her.  So did his manner.  His forcefulness was exciting in a
way.  None of the other men acted like that, pinning her to the ground,
paying no attention to her movements.  Always, they waited to see what she
wanted.  Tron seemed not to care.  Nevilar felt hotness spread within
her as she thought of him.

Had he really done
what Pila had said?  Perhaps the child had made up the story, to get
attention.  And Tron had said she was waiting for him in the woods. 
Nevilar knew that was not likely, for Pila was too young to think of
Akat.  She was also a shy child who did not like attention.  Nevilar
held on to the thought anyway.  It seemed to her that none of the others
truly understood Tron.  Zena especially did not. 

Nevilar's lips
compressed.  Everyone thought Zena was so special, not just the men. 
Every day, her mother told her that she ought to be more like Zena, so she
would not do so many things wrong.  No matter how hard she tried, she
could never please her mother, but Zena always did.  Zena was proud of
herself as well.  The Mother taught that pride was wrong, so why was Zena
so admired?

If they would let
her take charge of Tron, instead of Zena, Nevilar thought bitterly, she was
certain she could change him.  She cared for him, and Zena did not. 

She decided to
follow him when the council was over, to tell him of her feelings. 
Sliding into step beside him as he walked away, she tried to match his long
strides with her smaller legs.

"I am sorry
for the things that are happening to you, Tron," she told him. 

"Why should
you care?" he snapped.  His eyes were hard and angry, and his lips
were set in a tight line.

Nevilar
hesitated.  She had expected him to be grateful for her sympathy. 
"The Mother teaches compassion," she finally said in a small voice.
"All of us care."

"Compassion! 
Caring!"  Tron snorted the words.  "These things have no
meaning.  It is necessary to kill animals for food, to eat and drink and
mate.  That is all that has meaning."

Fearing another
outburst, Nevilar did not reply.  Instead, she came closer and placed a
hand on Tron's arm.  His expression changed immediately.  She saw
desire in his eyes, only it was not quite the same as desire.  There was
coldness in it as well.

He turned to face
her and began to stroke her breasts, then her hips.  His hands were rough
against her smooth skin.

She backed away.
"No, Tron.  Akat is forbidden.  And others may be
watching."

"I do not
care," he replied, pulling her toward him again.  He placed his lips
against hers in a long, bruising kiss.

Nevilar broke away
again, terrified by his behavior.  She wanted to help Tron, but they could
not ignore the injunction! 

"Menta has
spoken," she whispered urgently.  "The Mother Herself has forbidden
Akat."

"Menta!"
Tron spat out the name as he had spat out the word compassion.  "I
care not what Menta says."  He grabbed her face with both hands and
tried to kiss her again.

"But the
Mother - "  Nevilar's words were cut off as Tron shoved his lips against
hers.  The surge of hotness came again, and her knees trembled.  She
tasted blood.  Tron had cut her with his teeth.  Her trembling
intensified.

Footsteps sounded
in the gravel beside the river.  Nevilar wrenched herself away from Tron,
her heart thudding with fear.  If anyone had seen them... To be found with
Tron like this, after what had happened...

Bakan emerged from
the bushes that lined the banks of the river.  He stared at them, a
puzzled frown on his weather-beaten face.  As always, his look was direct,
full of authority.  After a moment, he raised a hand in greeting and went
on. 

Nevilar's body
went limp with relief.  He had not seen.  Before Tron could make a
move toward her again, she whirled and ran for the clearing, but her knees were
shaking too hard to maintain the pace.  Besides, she did not want anyone
to notice her distress.  Then she would have to explain.  She slowed
down and walked as normally as possible.

Tron came up
behind her.  His breath was hot on the back of her neck.  She
flinched away from him, but he did not touch her.

"Tomorrow,"
he whispered.  "As the sun goes down, in the place we have been
before." 

Nevilar did not
respond, but only continued to walk.  All the way to the clearing, she
felt his eyes burning into her back.

She fought with
herself all the next afternoon.  She should not go, but if she did not,
she would not be able to help Tron, show the others that she, not Zena, was the
one who could change him.  And once he had calmed down, Tron would surely
realize that Akat was impossible, since the Mother had forbidden it.

In the end, she
could not go, for her mother asked her to help with some skins she was
stretching, and Nevilar could not refuse.  Tron looked at her disdainfully
the next morning and would not answer when she greeted him.

"I could not
come.  But tonight I will come," she gasped out, afraid of the words,
but even more afraid of his disdain.

He walked away
without responding, his face obstinate with anger.  Nevilar followed
miserably.  She should have gone.  Now Tron was angry at her, might
never like her again.  Then she saw Zena, waiting to start the
lessons.  Tron hated them; she was sure he did, and even more, he hated
having Zena tell him what to do.  Nevilar felt better.  Probably it
was Zena, not herself, who had made him angry. 

Zena saw Tron's
glowering face as he came toward her and winced.  Yesterday had been
difficult; today might be worse.  She wondered what had happened to put
him in such a towering rage.

The children were
playing nearby and she called to them to join her.  As Menta had said,
they too were learning, and Tron might be more comfortable with others in the
lessons. 

She arranged her
face in an expression of sadness, then of happiness.  These Tron could
see, but when she put longing in her face, Tron only said "sad"
again.  Zena kept trying, but after a while, she turned to the children,
to let them guess.

"Longing,"
they called out without hesitation, and did their best to imitate the
expression.

Zena tried
another, then another, turning first to Tron and then to the children. 
Each time, the children answered. 

Mortification
spread across Tron's face, that the children could answer when he could
not.  He shouted angrily and bounded to his feet.  Zena closed her
eyes for a long moment, trying to control her own mortification that she had
not realized, that she had embarrassed Tron even as she tried to help.

The children
looked startled at his outburst and shuffled uneasily.  Then one little
girl imitated his angry face, pulling her eyelids and lips with her fingers
until her small face was a mask of sneering rage.  The others copied her,
howling with laughter.  Tron stalked away.

Zena glared at the
children and ran after him.  It was not going to be easy now to induce him
to continue the lessons!  She caught up to him and placed a hand on his
arm.

"I am sorry
for the children, Tron.  I should not have called them.  Truly, I am
sorry.  That was not a good idea."

He shook off her
hand and kept on walking.  "Stupid children!" she heard him
mutter. 

Zena ran to stand
in front of him.  "No, Tron," she told him, holding on to his
arm to try to impress him with her sincerity.  "The children are not
stupid.  You are not stupid either.  The children do not know how to
hunt as you do.  You do not know faces as well as some.  They will
learn one day to follow the animals as you do.  And you will learn
too."

He only grunted,
but he stopped walking so fast, and Zena knew she had caught his
attention.  She pressed her advantage.  "We will do this next
time where the others are not watching," she promised him. 
"That will be easier for you."

Tron grunted
again, and Zena assumed it was a grunt of assent.  "We will start
tomorrow," she called after him, and let him go.  They would
accomplish no more today.  Tomorrow, she would take him to a place she
knew of in the woods, where they could work alone.  Menta had told her
that someone would always be watching, but surely that was not necessary. 
She would speak to Menta, assure her there was no need.  Tron would not
harm her, and he would learn better if he knew no one was listening.

Nevilar had
lingered near the lesson, hoping to speak to Tron again.  Now she knew he
was too angry.  She did not blame him.  It was horrible to be
humiliated like that!  Zena should not treat him like a child. 

A rush of sympathy
flooded her.  With it came determination.  She must meet Tron
tonight.  He would need her to comfort him.

Just before the
sun went down, she sneaked away from the clearing.  Tron was waiting when
she arrived at the place she used for mating.  She had discovered the tiny
enclosure years ago, when she had wanted a special place to go where no one
could find her.  Hidden within thick clumps of bushes, her retreat was
barely large enough for two people to lie down in.  But it was totally
private.  Here, she did not fear prying eyes.

Without speaking,
Tron pulled her to the ground.  "Wait!" she cried out. 
"We must talk."

He paid no
attention.  He lowered himself over her, and she felt his organ hard
against her stomach.

"Wait,"
she cried again, resisting the surge of desire building inside her.  She
pummeled at his back with her fists, to make him listen to her.

Tron answered with
a quick look of scorn.  Grabbing her wrists, he forced them backward as he
tried to enter her.

Nevilar
groaned.  She did not want to do this.  The Mother had forbidden
Akat, but never had she felt such an agony of desire.  It tore through
her, painful in its intensity.  It was fierce, uncontrollable, as Tron was
fierce and uncontrollable.

She felt him
struggling to open her legs wider.  She gasped with the effort to restrain
him, then suddenly she gave up, unable to resist any longer.  She spread
her legs for him, as wide as they would go.  With a gasp of triumph, he plunged
into her.  Back and forth he went, harder and harder, and Nevilar rocked
with him.  Almost at once, the ecstasy came for both of them.  They
shuddered violently and lay still.

One moment passed,
then another, before Tron raised his head.  Then, in one quick movement,
he was on his feet.  Nevilar stared in astonishment; already, he was
leaving.  How could he leave so quickly?

Before she could
collect herself to speak, he was gone.  Nevilar lay still, biting her lips
hard so she would not cry.  Tron's passion had brought ecstasy, but his
fierce thrusting had brought pain as well.  She felt bruised, inside
herself and everywhere else - but even worse was the hurt to her
feelings.  He had not even bothered to speak with her, had hardly noticed she
was there, except for her body.  He still did not know of her caring, had
not realized she had come to comfort him. 

Perhaps, though,
he had been afraid to talk to her, lest someone hear them.  Nevilar
considered these thoughts, trying to believe them.  After all, Menta had
said someone would always be watching.  Tron was acting wisely, perhaps,
to leave so quickly.

Had
someone
been watching?  Nevilar rose, all her senses suddenly alert.  She
scoured the bushes fearfully, listening intently for any betraying rustle. 
Horror at what she had done slowly encompassed her.  She had disobeyed
Menta, let Tron do what the Mother Herself had forbidden.  To violate the
Mother's command was terrible, horrible.  Why had she done this
thing?  Why, why had she behaved like that?

Darkness had
come.  They would be wondering where she was.  Her mother would be
looking for her, fearing for her, alone in the woods at night.  Nevilar
rose and hurriedly cleaned herself with damp leaves.  They must not know,
must not smell Akat on her.  And she must hurry, before they came looking.

She ran back to
the clearing, still shaking with horror at her actions, with fear that someone
had seen.  If they looked at her accusingly, what would she say?

But when she
slipped into her place by the fire, the others barely looked up.  Her
mother frowned and told her irritably that she should take more care, come back
earlier.  Bakan had seen the prints of tigers nearby.  Did she want
to be eaten by a tiger?

Relief flooded
Nevilar.  After all, no one had noticed.  No one knew, and she would
never, never do such a thing again.  The Mother had been kind, to give her
this chance.

Trying to sound as
natural as she could, she assured her mother that she did not wish to be eaten
by a tiger, though she did not believe a tiger was really in the area. Her
mother was just saying that to make certain Nevilar knew she had displeased her
again.  Sometimes it seemed her mother never spoke at all except to
criticize.