"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 1 - Midworld" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

Born watched the morning mist rise and dreamed
of the sun. He snuggled deeper into the cranny in the
thomabar tree and wrapped his cloak of green fur
more tightly about himself. Thoughts of the sun
cheered him a little. Hard work, much climbing, and
courage had gifted him with that sight three times in
his modest lifetime. Not many men could boast of
that, he prided himself.

To see the sun one had to climb to the top of the
world. And crawl to the crown of one of the Pillars
or emergents that were the world's buttresses. To as-
cend to such places was to court death from the host
of ravenous shapes that drifted and soared in the Up-
per Hell.

He had done it three times. He was among the
bravest of the braveтАФor as some in the village in-
sisted, the maddest of the mad.

The damp mist thinned further as the rising sun
sucked moisture from the Third Level. He shivered.
It was dangerous as well as uncomfortable to rest
comparatively exposed so early in the day, when all
sorts of unpleasant things roamed the canopy world.
But dawn and dusk were the best times for hunters
to hunt, and Bom counted himself their equal. A
good hunter did not hide away safe while others took
the best game.

He thought of calling to Ruumahum, but the big
furcot was not close by, and a yell now would surely
scare away potential kill. For the moment he would


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have to do without the comfort of his companion's
hulking warmth.

That Ruumahum was within calling distance Bom
did not doubt. Once a furcot was joined to a person

3

it never strayed far until that person died. When
he died . . . Born angrily shrugged off the thought.
These were useless musings for a man engaged in a
hunt