"Tara K. Harper - Wolfwalker 2 - Shadow Leader" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harper Tara K)

the tree. Longear's scouts could be on his trail even now, he
knew, but that was not what worried himтАФthe masa was stirred
up enough to keep the scouts from his footprints for days. No,
it was the wolfwalker for whom he feared.
He broke into a jog. The hungry vines snaked through the
trees above him as he ran, and the feeder roots were as thick as
his wrist. Dion had never seen poison masa before. If she
stepped into a masa coil unknowing . . .
He ducked under a low branch and vaulted a rotten log,
slipping on the loose bark that scattered under his boots before
he caught himself again. He glanced around for signs of the
wolfwalker. Thank the moons he was closeтАФcleanly cut stems
still oozed with fresh sap where Dion had sliced off the wild
herbs with her knife. But then the wind rose briefly, and a new
scent hit his nose. Fresh water. A lake? Or a stream hidden in
a gully he had not seen from the ridge? His knowledge of this
county's border was scant. If there was a pond here, there
would be clear bands of soil near the banksтАФand that would be
ripe hunting ground for the masa . . .
He doubled his pace, ignoring the branches that caught and
snapped on his mail as he ran. A deadfall leapt-up under his
feet, and he jumped it without thinking, sliding down on the
other side as the ground fell away in an unexpectedly steep
slope. The soft earth piled into his boots, and rotting sticks
stabbed his legs where the studded leather slid up to his hips.
He landed with a grunt, rolled, and came up running, the
humus scattering like chaff.
The ground became marshy, and the softness of the sweet
dirt gave way to mud. His feet drove deeply into the ground
with splucking sounds as he shoved his way through, one hand
holding the hilt of his sword so it did not catch on the brush,
the other in front of his face to ward off the branches that
stabbed at his eyes. Before him, a tiny hillock served as a
dike to the mountain runoff. He charged up it until his weight
collapsed one of the rodent tunnels that honeycombed the
dike and he slammed to the ground face first at the top of the
hill.
Wait.
He froze.
That voiceтАФit was Gray Hishn, the wolf that ran with Dion,
the massive creature's tones husky in his mind. Watch, the
gray wolf said softly.
Motionless, Aranur caught his breath. What was going on?
Where was the wolf? And where was Dion? He glared across
the lake over the top of the dike, his narrowed gray eyes
stabbing each shrub that hung out over the silent water. He
could see no sign of the enemy scouts that patrolled the borders
in greater numbers than ever. But thereтАФto the rightтАФhe lo-
cated the wolfwalker before spotting Gray Hishn hiding behind
her. The woman's worn, leather mail melted so well into the