Free CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT Page A

food
intensified the pangs of hunger that had racked her all morning.  Eagerly,
she poked a fingernail through one of the shells and sucked.  Nothing came
out.  Too ravenous to wait, she tore at the shell.  It splintered
off, revealing another, softer egg inside. Zena sniffed it and then thrust it
into her mouth.  Its solidity puzzled her, but the taste was good. 
She ate the others and almost immediately felt stronger.
    She went on, looking
constantly for any sign of Screech as well as a place to cross.  Once, a
scent caught at her nostrils as she stood looking at a big boulder that still
stuck up above the raging water.  The smell was familiar; it was not
Screech, but it was somehow like that.
    The scent wafted
away before she could identify it.  And then the puzzle was driven from
her mind by the sight of a huge tree that had fallen across the ravine. 
Its massive trunk stretched far into the woods on both sides of the gorge, and
branches as thick as the trees she had known by the river thrust up all along
its length, creating an almost impenetrable thicket.  The trunk and all
its limbs were slippery with rain and the constant splash of seething water
that churned between boulders in the chasm below.
    Zena stared at the
tree, terrified by the chance it offered. Tentatively, she touched the
trunk.  Her hand slid away.  She grasped one of the branches
above.  It, too, was slippery, but the plentiful smaller boughs that
sprouted from it kept her hand in place.  Slowly, she climbed up and
straddled the huge trunk.  Holding the infant close, she slid one thigh,
then the other, along the wet surface.
    A thick, curved
limb barred her way.  Cautiously, she squeezed around it and straddled the
trunk on the other side.  A deep breath escaped her.  She had managed
to get past the obstacle.  But there was still earth beneath her.  If
she kept going, the churning river would be there instead.  She peered
into the ravine, to judge its depth, and shut her eyes in terror.  The
water charged between two boulders about ten feet below the tree, then shot
through a narrow crevice to create a seething cascade that roiled down a steep
fall of rocks. If she fell, she would never get out.
    She began to slide
off.  She could not do this, dared not.  It was impossible...
    She ceased to
think.  Without volition, her thighs held on to the trunk and began to
squeeze her forward.  She followed, hardly knowing what she did. 
Slowly, with terrible caution, she crept to the next branch that blocked her
way, ignoring the twigs that slapped at her face, the rough bark that tore at
her legs. 
    The rapids rushed
below her, louder now, but she did not look down.  She could not. 
She looked only at the next branch, at the place she would grab as she swung
herself and the infant around the impediment.  Now she had to squeeze
through a narrow cleft where two large limbs made a sharp angle.  Slowly,
she pulled herself upright, clutching the baby under one arm and holding tightly
to a stout branch with her free hand.  She stepped through the gap. 
Her foot slid out from under her, and she fell heavily.  Terrified by the
sudden jolt, the infant screamed and wriggled wildly.  Zena held on to her
with frantic strength.  Her knees hit the sleek trunk, and she managed to
get her legs around it to clasp it once again.
    Her whole body was
trembling, and she stopped for a moment to rest.  Before her was a long,
bare area, with no branches, not even any brush, to hold on to.  Only the
drenched and glossy trunk lay between her and the roiling water below. 
Beyond that, the main trunk of the tree rose high in the air, supported by
smaller branches that stretched to the ground.  Another, narrower trunk
seemed more level, but it did not rest as securely on the far bank.  Zena
stared at them, uncertain which to take, but when she got to the place where
the trunks divided, she had no choice.  To climb the larger one was
impossible.  It