CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Read Free Page A

into her eyes and blinded her.  The whole world
seemed filled with them now.  They splashed with loud plunking sounds on
the rocks all around her and gathered in puddles on the pale earth, making dark
lines as they raced toward the river bed. 
    She
watched them, frozen into immobility; then, with a sharp cry, she retreated
into the shelter.  Just as she moved, a blinding flash of light tore
across the clouds, and a terrifying crack seemed to split the air into
pieces.  The sound drove Zena into the farthest corner of the
refuge.  Wetness came with her; it trickled down her back, making her
shiver, and cascaded down the sides of the rocks.  Clutching her arms to
her chest for protection, she huddled there, listening, afraid. 
    A
scrabbling sound made her jump, but as she caught the familiar scent, Zena
relaxed.  Her mother's head, water streaming from it, appeared at the
entrance to the cave.  In her free hand, she held a limp rodent.  It
was covered with light fur and had a short, stubby tail.  Washed out of
its burrow by the rains, it had been easy to catch.
    Tope
responded with a comforting grunt to her daughter's squeal of greeting. 
Then she probed deftly at the animal's skin with a sharp rock.  Tearing at
the exposed flesh with her strong, blunt teeth, she chewed industriously,
spitting out the fur in disgust.  Zena held out her hand, and after a
while her mother handed her part of the carcass. 
    Zena
gagged at the strong taste, and chewed with difficulty. Her teeth were better
adapted for grinding tubers and grains and nuts than meat.  But the flesh
of rodents filled a place in her belly that had been empty for so long she had
forgotten it was there.  Satisfied, and reassured by her mother's
presence, she drank from a puddle near the entrance to their refuge, and curled
up to sleep again.
    All
that day, and for many days after, the rains continued to fall.  Flashes
of light tore through the sky, followed by deafening crashes.  Zena
huddled in her corner, occasionally gnawing on the rodent's bones and other
scraps left by her mother.  Fearful of the unfamiliar sights and sounds,
she had not wanted to venture outside.  But now her hunger was too great
to ignore, and the drumming of rain had slowed.  She poked her head out to
sniff the air and then emerged into muted daylight.
    The
world that greeted her was unlike anything she had seen before.  Water was
everywhere, in puddles on the ground, in crevices in the rocks, in rivulets
that bounded down the slope toward the river bed.  Light drops fell on her
forehead and dripped into her eyes, but she was too astonished by the strange
sights even to wipe them away.  The sheen of the rocks, the glitter of
puddles, and especially the perplexing ripples that spread outward each time a
drop of rain fell, fascinated her.  She stooped to examine the ripples
more closely in a nearby puddle.  Quickly, her hand lashed out.  A
large insect floated on the water, struggling to fly.  She crunched it
between her teeth even as she spotted others.  Grabbing as many as she
could fit into her hands, she crammed them into her mouth.
    Her
mother called from farther down the slope, and Zena started toward her.  A
larger puddle distracted her.  Wriggling just under its surface were small
black creatures with long tails.  Zena reached out to catch one, but it
slid from her grasp.  Again she tried, and this time she caught the
tadpole.  For all the years of the drought, they had lain dormant in
clusters of eggs.  As soon as they were wet, they sprang again to life.
    The rains had begun to
transform the landscape as well.  A light sprinkling of emerald showed at
the roots of long-dead grasses, and clumps of feathery leaves were already
thrusting up between the rocks.  On the plains behind her, Zena saw spots
of red and white and deep blue, waving at the ends of their short stalks. 
She ran to see, and tasted some of them.  The purple was bitter, and she
spat it