"Baxter, Stephen - Huddle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baxter Stephen)

He had time for one more scream -- and then he was gone, dragged under the
surface again.

The thick, sluggish water grew calm; last bubbles broke the surface, pink with
blood.

Night-Dawn and the others huddled together.

"He is dead," Frazil said.

"We all die," said No-Sun. "Death is easy."

"Did you see its eyes?" Frazil asked.

"Yes. Human," No-Sun said bleakly. "Not like us, but human."

"Perhaps there were other ways to survive the Collision."

No-Sun turned on her son. "Are we supposed to huddle with that, Night-Dawn?"

Night-Dawn, shocked, unable to speak, was beyond calculation. He explored his
heart, searching for grief for loyal, confused One-Tusk.

THEY STAYED on the beach for many days, fearful of the inhabited water. They ate
nothing but scavenged scraps of crushed, half-rotten krill left behind by
whatever creatures had lived here.

"We should go back," said No-Sun at last.

"We can't," Night-Dawn whispered. "It's already too late. We couldn't get back
to the huddle before winter."

"But we can't stay here," Frazil said.

"So we go on." No-Sun laughed, her voice thin and weak. "We go on, across the
sea, until we can't go on anymore."

"Or until we find shelter," Night-Dawn said.

"Oh, yes," No-Sun whispered. "There is that."

So they walked on, over the pack ice.

This was no mere pond, as they had left behind; this was an ocean.

The ice was thin, partially melted, poorly packed. Here and there the ice was
piled up into cliffs and mountains that towered over them; the ice hills were
eroded, shaped smooth by the wind, carved into fantastic arches and spires and
hollows. The ice was every shade of blue. And when the sun set, its light filled