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

She glanced over to see mat Leesil and Magiere had settled for sleep in their bedroll and then looked
down at the mess upon her notes. They had rushed all day, and now she was to be rushed through her
few useful moments of the evening.
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"Sorry, " she called back.

Gathering her things, she closed the lamp's shutter to smother its light.

Wynn settled into her bedroll as two tears slid unbidden down the bridge of her nose. Something
bumped against her feet, and she peered over the blanket's edge.

Chap panted lightly at her feet, silver coat tinged red gold in the firelight. He stared at her, translucent
blue eyes full of sympathy. His tail switched once across the ground, scattering clods of tree needles and
wilted leaves.

Wynn held up the blanket's edge, and Chap belly-crawled in beside her. He snuggled against her with
his head pressed into the crook of her neck, and she wrapped her arms around him, fingers clutching his
long fur. At least Chap was constant.

***

Since his rise from death to a Noble Dead, Chane had never experienced true hunger. He had never
before gone for two weeks without feeding. He was starving for blood, for life to fill him up once again,
as he crouched in the brambles a stone's throw from a small cluster of huts.

Upon waking to Welstiel rolling on the floor, whispering to himself again, Chane knew he had to get out
and hunt. He could not ride all night again with this emptiness inside him. So, he slipped away while his
companion lay dormant.

He could smell living flesh... and blood... with all his senses opened wide. It was close within those
timber and thatch hovels. The scent clotted his mind with memories of split skin in his teeth and salty,
warm fluid spilling through his mouth and down his throat. Then followed the sound of a heartbeat that
slowed and dimmed in concert to the life energy that rose inside him.

Should he wait for someone to come out, perhaps for firewood or to check one last time on the pen of
geese around back? What if no one emerged?

A cottage door opened, and a portly man reached out to grab a few logs from a firewood stack. Chane
tensed, but the man never stepped completely out before a woman's shrill voice stopped him.

"Close the door, Evan! You're letting in the cold. "

The door closed.

Chane had not developed the mental abilities his master, Toret, had displayed, but he did have a gift for