"Charles Coleman Finlay - A Democracy of Trolls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Finley Charles Coleman)

daylight at all. She used to crawl away at the first hint of darkness. So last
night, when the rain poured down, and she crawled out of their crowded crack
of rock, Windy listened to her laugh and took the chance to rub butt with
Ragweed. She was just getting excited herself when she heard the bigtooth
lion's roar and ran out to rescue her daughter.
She chased the bigtooth off at once, but by the time she reached her little
girl it was too late. Her daughter's skull was crushed, all soft, pulpy, and
misshapen. Like a rotten pumpkin. Windy had eaten pumpkins once, near one of
the villages of the black-haired people. But now, thinking of her baby, she'd
never eat pumpkins again, no matter how tasty they were.
She felt like she'd never do anything again.
The last finger of light lingered on the green face of the meadow. Ragweed
strolled over and sat down beside her. He noticed the worm twisting in the
leaves, picked it up, and offered it to her. She stuck out her tongue to show
she wasn't hungry, to say no. He popped the worm in his mouth, chewed once,
and swallowed.
"It's almost dark," he said. "We should go down to that turtle shell --" that
was what he called the cave that people built themselves to live in "-- and
see if Snapper's still there."
"Why?"
Ragweed shrugged. "Might be something to eat."
"Those animals might try to kill us, the way they killed Mosswater last night
when he went to warn them about the lion."
Ragweed scratched his head, then probed one of his nostrils with a
carrot-sized forefinger. Stirring up his brains in search of an idea, she
guessed.
"We could try to scare them away," he offered.
She had guessed right. "We've been trying to scare them away for months," she
reminded him.
"That's true," he said slowly. "They're probably pretty scared by now."
He didn't seem to notice her answering silence. She sagged on her haunches and
studied him thoughtfully. Ragweed was the handsomest troll she'd ever seen --
he had a beautifully shaped head that sloped back to a nice point, a brow so
thick you could hardly see his eyes beneath it, no neck to speak of, arms like
the trunks of trees, and a belly as round and dark as the new Moon. Short,
bristly hairs ran down between his shoulders and into the crack of his
buttocks. Just looking at him used to send shivers up her spine and make her
feel all juicy inside. She'd flirted with him, and he'd responded, and she was
as happy as any troll could be until she became pregnant and realized that
Ragweed was not the sharpest rock in the pile. He only looked smart compared
to his brother, Mosswater. Of course, she couldn't be that much smarter.
Before it was time for her baby to be born, she let Ragweed and Mosswater
persuade her to come down out of the mountains to this stupid little valley.
Ragweed grunted. "When Mosswater and I came down here a couple years back, the
turtle shell didn't have Snapper in it."
"Well, this year it did!" She'd heard the same statement a thousand times
before and she was tired of it. But more than that, she wanted to blame
Ragweed for Mosswater's death -- Mosswater was stupid but very kind, and used
to bring sweet little slugs for her baby -- and she wanted to blame Ragweed
for the baby's death too. She wanted to blame somebody, anybody, because if it