"Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 05 - Turn The Other Chick" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

arm bore a scar from long, yellow fangs, and Peaseblossom's entire family had died when the beasts
swooped out of the night sky, wrecking a fairy enclave.Perhaps that's why Blossom's so carefree,
choosing a different partner every week,thought Mustardseed.She lost nearly everything that mattered to
her five years ago.

Moth suddenly realized she had erred in mentioning the dread enemy before seasoned veterans. "Oh, I
meanтАФI didn't meanтАФthat is . . ." she stammered.

"Don't fret, old flitwings," Peaseblossom said with false heartiness. She clapped Moth on the shoulder,
nearly staggering the smaller fairy. "At least we got a hefty supply of leather from fighting the big bug
scourge of the night."

"Reremice aren't bugs," Mustardseed said mildly. "But do let's talk of something else."

"Delighted. I've been looking for you two. What else could get me to climb this hill in this heat?"
Peaseblossom fanned herself with a burdock leaf. "Webby's home on leave! To celebrate her return, I'm
throwing a grand bash tonight at the clearing by the musk-rose bush. I've spent the morning killing all the
cankers in the buds, so the place looked splendiferous, and smells even yummier."

"Dear Cobweb!" said Moth. "We were so proud when she was accepted into the Queen's Archers. It
will seem like we're all schoolgirls again. Of course I'll come, though I may have to bring Ghosh."

Peaseblossom's beautiful features scrunched in dismay. "Oh, if you must. I'd rather have you there with
the Brat from Bombay, than not have you at all. But mind you keep him out of the shrubbery.
Mustardseed?"

"I'll be there. For Webby." She hadn't felt like attending revels since the bust-up with Robin, but she
couldn't miss the chance to spend time with an old pal like Cobweb.

***

It was a typical Peaseblossom affair, with more extravagance than style. And it was jam-packed with
fairies, so crowded there was barely enough room in the circles to turn about. But Mustardseed, an
indifferent dancer, was content to stay under a honeysuckle bower, chatting with Cobweb and watching
Moth chase Ghosh.

Cobweb looked well, and the golden trim on her purple archer's uniform picked up the highlights in her
braided hair. Like Mustardseed, she was one of those fairies with vestigial wings. Neither of them could
fly more than a few paces, but they made up for it with greater strength. Webby's right arm positively
rippled with muscles.

"So there we were, the new recruits, and what does the Master have us do? Hang pearls in every
bloody cowslip's ear within sight. I tell you, we were ready to pack up. We'd come for training, not
gardening! It wasn't until we returned to camp, bitching all the while, that we learned our next task:
shootingthe pearls out of the cowslips. Now that was a challenge worthy of us!"

"Amazing!" Moth breathed before distraction set in. "Ghosh! Don't eat that!"

"Dig, dig, dig," Ghosh said, brandishing his shovel and spraying dirt in every direction before dashing
away. Moth hurried after him, sighing.