"Barb & J. C. Hendee - Noble Dead 03 - Sister of the Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hendee JC & Barb)

wild foliage was an ever-present scent of decay. The thickened forest nearly blotted out the cloud-coated
sky, with only a brief respite whenever the puddled road swerved closer to the open riverbank.
Droevinka was held in perpetual dusk by its shadowed and twining trees. Even when rain didn't fall, the
murky canopy dripped upon them.

Magiere looked back for her companions. Wynn followed last with the tethered pack mule, Chap
trotting along beside her mount. Leesil's charcoal-gray scarf, now spotted with drizzle, sat askew on his
head, exposing a tangle of white-blond hair and one slightly pointed ear.

"Of all the idiotic ways to cross land, " he grumbled. "My backside will never be the same. "

"We're close, " Magiere half whispered, "but we'll stop for the night. "

He quieted in surprise and looked up at a patch of gray sky between the treetops. Magiere knew it was
unusual to halt this early, and Leesil studied her, all traces of irritation gone.

"There's still a bit of light left, " he said. "Are you all right?"

"Yes..., " she started. "Only... I've stayed away from this place for so long. "

He reached out and grasped her wrist, slender hand warm against her skin.

"It's a little late to ask, with a long road behind us, " he said. "But are you sure you want this? We can
turn back, head north through Stravina and into the Warlands. "

The urge to follow him away from this place made Magiere tense at the suggestion. The desire to flee her
past as she'd done years agoтАФthis time with Leesil beside herтАФ was so strong. But there were
questions to answer.
 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html




What am I?... Why am I here?

Why was I made... by an undead to hunt its own kind?

Wynn pulled her pony to a stop behind them and slumped in the saddle. Magiere still regretted allowing
the sage to accompany them. The damp chill was taking its toll on Wynn, though she never complained.

"We'll stop, " Magiere said, pulling her wrist from Leesil's comforting grip. "Wynn, pick a spot and rest.
Leesil will start the fire while I tend the ponies. "

Wynn lifted her head, brown braid darkened by the misty air. "I will be fine... once I prepare some tea. "

They busied themselves with their tasks. Chap followed Wynn about as she as unpacked bedrolls and
filled the tin teapot. Leesil took out an oilcloth sack of dry kindling and sparked a small fire that sputtered
and smoked from the damp wood he fed it. He scrounged small twigs to dry by the flames so he could
replenish his kindling. Magiere tethered the ponies to a stout spruce near a patch of grass and brought
them oats and water. The road they'd traveled was little more than a mud path, and the going hadn't been