Read Online CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JOAN DAHR LAMBERT
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her mother had vanished, and now she might never find him...
The infant
squealed in her arms, but she ignored the cries. She wanted Screech; even
more than the baby, it was Screech she wanted. He was closest to her heart, for
he had come to her first, when she was all alone.
Despair
overwhelmed Zena. She felt as if something inside her had been mortally
wounded in a way she could not understand, could not bear. She closed her eyes
and howled, forgetting the storm, the volcano, the danger of being heard.
She howled and howled until all the strength was gone from her. Then she
collapsed silently against the ash-laden earth.
**************************
A total absence of
sound woke Zena. The woods were eerily still, as if every creature that
had ever lived there had been silenced by the volcano's fury. No wind
stirred, no animal moved, no bird called to its mate.
A drop of water
made a barely audible plunk as it landed in a puddle, its normal bell-like tone
muffled by soggy ash. Zena turned her head toward the sound. It
seemed to come from far away, so she ignored it and fell back again toward
sleep, but she could not get comfortable. Her whole body ached, and her
throat was so raw she could barely swallow.
She rose stiffly
to her feet, holding the still-sleeping infant against her chest. For a
moment she could not remember where she was. Then memory returned and agony
bent her double. Screech was gone... he was gone... A terrible, drowning
heaviness tore at her heart as she thought of him alone and frightened, calling
for her.
Abruptly, she
straightened and began to search frantically among the stark trees. Perhaps he
was still nearby. The night had been so dark, so terrible. Maybe
now, with light beginning to creep into the smoky air, she would find
him. She tried to remember the way she had come, but nothing looked
familiar, and all signs of their passage had been erased by the driving rains.
There were no footprints, no scents, so she traversed the whole area, back and
forth, calling loudly. But no answer came.
Numb with grief
and weariness, she crouched against a blackened stump to rest. Her eyes closed
involuntarily, then opened again in surprise as the infant woke and pulled
eagerly at her breast. In her searching, she had almost forgotten her
tiny daughter.
The baby's
suckling reminded her that she was hungry. But the unforgiving landscape
did not offer much hope of food. She could see no greenness, no sign of
life anywhere around her. Heat and wind had blasted the leaves from the trees;
fire had left the earth bereft of plants and bushes. The smell of
scorched wood and damp soot was overwhelming.
Zena shuddered.
How could she survive in such a place? No warmth came from the sun. No
berries grew; there was no pond with bulbs, no fields with tubers to dig.
None of these things were here. Perhaps they did not exist anywhere
now. She had seen them burning below her.
She sat up
suddenly. Perhaps the pond, at least, was still there. She could go
back. Maybe Screech had gone back when he could not find her.
The image of
Screech waiting at the pond gave her courage, and a purpose.
Determinedly, she clambered up a large boulder near the top of the hill that
commanded a good view of the area. Twice, she fell back, for the rock was
slick with soot. But she kept trying, driven by an overwhelming need to
see if the place that had sheltered her for so long might offer refuge once again,
if Screech could possibly be there.
The sight that
greeted her was devastating. Lava, black and lifeless, stretched as far
as she could see in every direction. Nothing moved on all that vast space,
except steam rising from the hardening rock. The lava had poured into the
long valley below her refuge, obliterating every sign of the abundance that had
once flourished there, had spewed up the hills and through the passages between
them, had even spread beyond the deep ravine
The infant
squealed in her arms, but she ignored the cries. She wanted Screech; even
more than the baby, it was Screech she wanted. He was closest to her heart, for
he had come to her first, when she was all alone.
Despair
overwhelmed Zena. She felt as if something inside her had been mortally
wounded in a way she could not understand, could not bear. She closed her eyes
and howled, forgetting the storm, the volcano, the danger of being heard.
She howled and howled until all the strength was gone from her. Then she
collapsed silently against the ash-laden earth.
**************************
A total absence of
sound woke Zena. The woods were eerily still, as if every creature that
had ever lived there had been silenced by the volcano's fury. No wind
stirred, no animal moved, no bird called to its mate.
A drop of water
made a barely audible plunk as it landed in a puddle, its normal bell-like tone
muffled by soggy ash. Zena turned her head toward the sound. It
seemed to come from far away, so she ignored it and fell back again toward
sleep, but she could not get comfortable. Her whole body ached, and her
throat was so raw she could barely swallow.
She rose stiffly
to her feet, holding the still-sleeping infant against her chest. For a
moment she could not remember where she was. Then memory returned and agony
bent her double. Screech was gone... he was gone... A terrible, drowning
heaviness tore at her heart as she thought of him alone and frightened, calling
for her.
Abruptly, she
straightened and began to search frantically among the stark trees. Perhaps he
was still nearby. The night had been so dark, so terrible. Maybe
now, with light beginning to creep into the smoky air, she would find
him. She tried to remember the way she had come, but nothing looked
familiar, and all signs of their passage had been erased by the driving rains.
There were no footprints, no scents, so she traversed the whole area, back and
forth, calling loudly. But no answer came.
Numb with grief
and weariness, she crouched against a blackened stump to rest. Her eyes closed
involuntarily, then opened again in surprise as the infant woke and pulled
eagerly at her breast. In her searching, she had almost forgotten her
tiny daughter.
The baby's
suckling reminded her that she was hungry. But the unforgiving landscape
did not offer much hope of food. She could see no greenness, no sign of
life anywhere around her. Heat and wind had blasted the leaves from the trees;
fire had left the earth bereft of plants and bushes. The smell of
scorched wood and damp soot was overwhelming.
Zena shuddered.
How could she survive in such a place? No warmth came from the sun. No
berries grew; there was no pond with bulbs, no fields with tubers to dig.
None of these things were here. Perhaps they did not exist anywhere
now. She had seen them burning below her.
She sat up
suddenly. Perhaps the pond, at least, was still there. She could go
back. Maybe Screech had gone back when he could not find her.
The image of
Screech waiting at the pond gave her courage, and a purpose.
Determinedly, she clambered up a large boulder near the top of the hill that
commanded a good view of the area. Twice, she fell back, for the rock was
slick with soot. But she kept trying, driven by an overwhelming need to
see if the place that had sheltered her for so long might offer refuge once again,
if Screech could possibly be there.
The sight that
greeted her was devastating. Lava, black and lifeless, stretched as far
as she could see in every direction. Nothing moved on all that vast space,
except steam rising from the hardening rock. The lava had poured into the
long valley below her refuge, obliterating every sign of the abundance that had
once flourished there, had spewed up the hills and through the passages between
them, had even spread beyond the deep ravine
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