"Books - David Eddings - Belgarath the Sorcerer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

"One thinks that they are hunting you."

I sent out a probing thought. The minds of the Hrulgin aren't really
very much like the minds of horses. Horses eat grass, and about the
only time they're aggressive is during the breeding season. The
Hrulgin look a great deal like horses--if you discount the claws and
fangs--but they don't eat grass. I'd touched the minds of Hrulgin
before at various times when I'd been traveling in the mountains of
Ulgoland. I knew that they were hunters and fairly savage, but the
peace of UL had always put restraints on them before. The minds I
touched this time seemed to have shrugged off those restraints.

, The wolf was right. The Hrulgin were hunting me.

I'd been hunted before. A young lion stalked me for two days once
before I'd finally chased him off. There's no real malice in the mind
of a hunting animal. He's just looking for something to eat. What I
encountered this time, however, was a cruel hatred and, much worse, to
my way of looking at it, an absolute madness. These particular Hrulgin
were much more interested in the killing than they were in the eating.
I was in trouble here, "One suggests that you do something about your
shape," the she-wolf advised. She dropped to her haunches, her long,
pink tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. In case you've never
noticed, that's the way canines laugh.

"What is so funny?" I demanded of her.

"One finds the man-things amusing. The hunter puts all his thought on
the thing he hunts. If it is a rabbit he hunts, he will not turn aside
for a squirrel. These meat-eating horses are hunting a man--you.
Change your shape, and they will ignore you."

I was actually embarrassed. Why hadn't I thought of that? For all our
sophistication, the instinctive reaction that seizes you when you
realize that something wants to kill and eat you is sheer panic.

I formed the image in my mind and slipped myself into the shape of the
wolf.

"Much better," my companion said approvingly.

"You are a handsome wolf. Your other shape is not so pleasing. Shall
we go?"

We angled up from the stream-bed and stopped at the edge of the trees
to watch the Hrulgin. The sudden disappearance of my scent confused
them, and it seemed also to infuriate them. The herd stallion reared,
screaming his rage, and he shredded the bark of an unoffending tree
with his claws while flecks of foam spattered out from his long, curved
fangs. Several of the mares followed my scent down the gorge, then