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

was too steep, so she ventured onto the smaller one. Forcing
her eyes to the opposite bank, she inched forward.  She was getting close
now.  Only a few more feet and she would be there.
    Cautiously, she
began to pull herself upright to maneuver her way around a limb that rose
straight up from the middle of the trunk.  She never managed to stand, for
at just that moment the tree shifted. The branches that supported the larger
trunk gave way, and it plunged toward the ground.  Swaying horribly, the
smaller trunk dropped toward the water.
    Zena screamed and
wrapped her legs convulsively around the plunging trunk. Bushes projected from
the top of the opposite bank. She grabbed desperately at them, but she was
jerked backward as the trunk fell, and they slithered from her fingers. The
movement knocked her off balance and almost wrenched the infant from her grasp.
The baby's body was slippery and stiff with fear, and Zena knew she could not
hold on to her much longer.  She would drop her soon, into the foaming
chasm...
    With a momentous
effort, she raised her arms over her head as she straddled the sodden trunk,
and threw the infant toward the bushes.  Then she clung with all her
strength to the branch in front of her as the tree swung wildly above the
gorge. 
    The trunk smashed
into the edge of the bank, halfway down the steep side of the ravine. 
Against her will, Zena's eyes were drawn to the seething water, so close now
that it splashed unceasingly against her face.  With demonic force, it
tried to dislodge her; it pulled relentlessly at her feet and careened over her
ankles, smashing into them as if reluctant to give way and part around
them. 
    Dizzy with terror,
Zena closed her eyes.  When she opened them again, she moaned in
despair.  There was no escape.  Beside her, the side of the bank
curved sharply inward, hollowed out by the rushing water.  It was slick
with clay, impossible to climb.  The bushes were above her, far beyond her
reach.  There was no sound from the infant.
    CHAPTER FIVE
    Dak stalked
silently through the woods.  He had left the others crouched under a
boulder deep within the ravine.  They were safer there.  To flee any
farther from the blazing mountain tonight was dangerous.  They had been
walking for hours, ever since the mountain had exploded, but now the storm had
become so intense he dared not venture farther.  Trees were crashing all
around them, and the fire-reddened air was so heavy with smoke and dust they
could not see.  Besides, Myta was hampered by her two young ones, and
Rune, his mother, had slowed with age.  His young brother Klep was strong,
but his small legs were unaccustomed to walking all through the night.
    He would be safer
in the ravine as well.  He had left it only because of the howling, the
terrible, grief-stricken cries that had torn at his chest as if he had uttered
them himself. He did not know what creature had made the anguished sounds, or
why, but they had seemed to lodge inside him.  Even after they had ceased,
they had pulled at him relentlessly, had drawn him from the gorge and compelled
him to walk through the raging storm to see if he could find their source.
    A blazing shard
landed close by, igniting a bush.  Dak grabbed a stick and beat at the
flames until they were gone.  He did not want the fire to spread and make
it impossible for him to return to the others.  Some of the fire stayed in
the top of his stick.  He looked curiously at the glowing tip.  It
gave out light, so he kept it with him as he moved on. 
    The land was
rising now under his feet.  He was at the far end of the ridge, where it
began to slope up steeply and curve south.  The area was unfamiliar to
him.  He and the others lived in the valley to the east, behind the
ridge.  They seldom climbed up the steep hill, for the leopard hunted
there.  It had taken his sister, Apar, when she had ventured up one day to
look for fruit, and had stayed into the evening hours.  Her