"Werewolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Housman Clarence)

edge strips of fur fell lappet-wise about her shoulders; two of these
at her entrance had been drawn forward and crossed about her
throat, but now, loosened and thrust back, left unhidden long plaits
of fair hair that lay forward on shoulder and breast, down to the
ivory-studded girdle where the axe gleamed.

Sweyn and his mother led the stranger to the hearth without
question or sign of curiosity, till she voluntarily told her tale of a
long journey to distant kindred, a promised guide unmet, and
signals and landmarks mistaken.

'Alone!' exclaimed Sweyn in astonishment. 'Have you journeyed
thus far, a hundred leagues, alone?'

She answered 'Yes' with a little smile.

'Over the hills and the wastes! Why, the folk there are savage and
wild as beasts.'

She dropped her hand upon her axe with a laugh of some scorn.

'I fear neither man nor beast; some few fear me.' And then she told
strange tales of fierce attack and defence, and of the bold free
huntress life she had led.

Her words came a little slowly and deliberately, as though she
spoke in a scarce familiar tongue; now and then she hesitated, and
stopped in a phrase, as though for lack of some word.

She became the centre of a group of listeners. The interest she
excited dissipated, in some degrees, the dread inspired by the
mysterious voices. There was nothing ominous about this young,
bright, fair reality, though her aspect was strange.

Little Rol crept near, staring at the stranger with all his might.
Unnoticed, he softly stroked and patted a corner of her soft white
robe that reached to the floor in ample folds. He laid his cheek
against it caressingly, and then edged up close to her knees.

'What is your name?' he asked.

The stranger's smile and ready answer, as she looked down, saved
Rol from the rebuke merited by his unmannerly question.

'My real name,' she said, 'would be uncouth to your ears and
tongue. The folk of this country have given me another name, and
from this' (she laid her hand on the fur robe) 'they call me "White
Fell."'

Little Rol repeated it to himself, stroking and patting as before.