"Nina Kiriki Hoffman - Past the Size of Dreaming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoffman Nina Kiriki) This in crazy, she thought. IтАЩm talking as though it can understand me. It acts as if it can. Now
IтАЩm discussing treatment options with a patient, which is something I never expected to do as a vet. But then again, itтАЩs not exactly a natural patient. Not exactly natural. Something shimmered and trembled in her chest. She had moved away from magic when she left Guthrie to go to the vet college at Oregon State University. SheтАЩd only gone back once, to find the magic tarnished and ragged and worn. The ghost had been a lot smaller and dimmer, and all her other friends were gone. When she was much younger, magic had touched her. She had worn magic like a coat. But it had never entered her bloodstream the way it had with the others, never claimed her as part of it. She had figured there must be something wrong with her. She was destined to be ordinary; she might as well get on with it, build herself the best ordinary life she could. Her marriage had lasted almost three years. The coyote cocked its head. тАЬIf I give you a shot,тАЭ she said, тАЬit can numb the leg so you wonтАЩt feel the stitches. One prick instead of lots of them. What do you think?тАЭ Of course, it would involve some waiting, too, but she had nothing else to do tonight but watch TV in her A-frame, a hundred yards from the clinic. тАЬWhuff.тАЭ тАЬYouтАЩre sure?тАЭ It pawed her arm. She sighed. тАЬOkay. No anesthetic. I need you to lie down on your side.тАЭ The coyote lay down, wounded leg up and available. Deirdre threaded the curved needle with the first suture and set the suture container upright, then went to work. Her patient occasionally whined, but it did not interfere or resist in any way. When she had finished, she wrapped the wound, even though she knew that if this were a normal animal, it would bite the bandages off, and maybe chew out the stitches, too. or make you woozy, but it will prevent tetanus. Okay?тАЭ The coyote sat up. Deirdre drew the dose. This time the coyote didnтАЩt resist, and she gave it an injection. тАЬAnything else I can do for you? Would you like some food? I imagine itтАЩs been hard to catch rabbits and mice and grasshoppers with that bum leg.тАЭ тАЬWhuff.тАЭ She poured canine maintenance kibble into a steel bowl and filled a second with water, then set them both on the cement floor in the treatment room. The coyote ate and drank. It stood for a long moment staring out the open door into the night, then turned to look at her. тАЬThank you,тАЭ it said in a low, womanтАЩs voice. It slipped away, silent as shadow, before Deirdre had finished her gasp. She could wait a couple minutes before she scrubbed down the surgery. She went back outside to watch stars prick the sky. Her coffee was cold, but she drank it anyway. TASHA Dane, who wandered the world in search of scents, sights, and sounds, sat on a branch high up in a Ponderosa pine in the Cascades and opened to night sounds, breathed them in. Coyotes called up the mountain, and somewhere nearer an owl hooted. Small gentle waves lapped the shore of the lake below. Tiny animals moved through underbrush. Breeze brushed through pine needles in the trees above her. Across the lake, campsite fires starred the darkness among the evergreens, orange images reflected on the dark surface of the lake. She leaned forward, seeking. A guitar strummed across distance; voices sang; woodsmoke blew toward her, and the odor of burning wood and cooking meat mixed with evergreen, earth, and water scents. She closed her eyes and drew in sounds and scents. It had been a month since she had come this close to people. She had spent time recently in the far north, collecting the almost-not-there scents of different kinds of ice and snow, watching northern lights shift and sheet and shimmer against wide, deep, long night skies. |
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