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

sat
quietly beside Screech and traced the long, curved scar on the small male's
back with gentle fingers, his eyes attentive.
    One morning, Dak
did not return.  Zena was sad, but at the same time, she was strangely
content.  The emptiness inside her had been filled, and she no longer felt
restless or incomplete.  When her belly began to swell a few months later,
she was not surprised.  She had no idea what the distention might portend,
but it did not disturb her.  Screech, however, was very startled one
evening when he placed his hand on her belly and something inside it kicked
him.  He drew his hand away and stared at her, perplexed.  Zena
pulled his hand to her belly again and let him stroke her until he became
accustomed to the jolts within.
    Many months later,
strong cramps disrupted Zena's sleep. An impulse deep within her had persuaded
her to build a second nest in a far corner of the cave, and she crawled over to
it as the cramping continued.  She crouched there, moaning softly. 
Screech came to nestle against her, a worried look on his face.  The bond
between them was very strong, and whenever she was hurt, he suffered. She
touched his face gently.
    The contractions
became stronger, and she cried out in pain.  Screech whimpered and tried
to pull her to her feet.  Zena waved him away.  She had no strength
to spare for reassurance now.  All her energies were concentrated on her
belly, on the feelings inside her.  A heavy ache developed in her back,
and she felt an immense pressure between her legs.  The contractions
continued to intensify. One after another, they shuddered through her body,
leaving her no time to recover.  She barely noticed as Screech stroked her
abdomen and mewed softly beside her.
    A fierce pushing
sensation overwhelmed her, even as the contractions continued.  She
pressed down hard with her muscles, to make it go away.  But the feeling
stayed with her; it wrenched and pulled at her, made her torso rise into the
air, then arch backward as the need to push, the forceful contractions, surged
through her body.
    Water suddenly
gushed from her, and she felt something hard between her legs.  Gathering
her strength, Zena leaned over to see what it was. Blood covered the ground
under her; its smell filled the cave.  Strangely, it did not alarm
her.  And when she saw that a form was emerging, she was not alarmed,
either.  A strong thrill jolted her instead.  This was as it should
be.  She reached down to grab the small body.  It resisted for a
moment and then came free.  She pulled it up to her mouth and licked it
energetically.  It wailed, and Screech jumped backward.  Zena paid no
attention to him.  All her energies were focused on the little one. 
She licked it over and over, then held it close to her breast.  It rooted
for her nipple and sucked eagerly.  Screech came close again and watched,
his eyes round with surprise.
    Light was
beginning to penetrate the cave, and Zena could see the infant more
clearly.  Its face was pink and crumpled, and its tiny skull was covered
with black fur.  Its hairless body was still covered with a waxy substance
that her tongue had not removed.  Like her, it had no protuberance at its
groin.  For a long moment, its eyes opened and it stared at her,
unblinking.  Zena stared back, entranced.  She mewed softly to it and
held it close to her breast again.  Its tiny hands clutched at her chest,
but this time it did not seek her nipple.  Instead, it slept, bleating
sharply from time to time as a tremor passed through its fragile body.
    Suddenly
exhausted, Zena lay down on the matted grasses, holding the infant carefully
against her chest.  But before she could sleep, her belly began to cramp
again.  She rubbed it hard, trying to make the pains go away.  Soon,
the afterbirth appeared; following a strong impulse, she ate some of it. 
Then she cut the cord that had attached the infant to her with her strong
teeth.  Satisfied, she lay down