"Brian Jacques - Redwall 08 - The Outcast Of Redwall" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacques Brian)

stained glistening red. Round his neck hung the teeth and claws of dead
enemies. His left forepaw bore six claws'тАФit rested on the hilt of a long
curved sword thrust through a snakeskin belt.

The kestrel's agonized cries brought Swartt upright. Kicking a nearby stoat,
he snarled, "Trattak, go and see what's makin' that noise."

The stoat scuttled obediently off into the snow-laden trees. It did not take
him long to find Skarlath. "Over 'ere, some stupid bird got itself froze to a
tree!" he called out.

Swartt smiled wickedly at a young badger tied to a log by a halter. It was a
creature about the same age as himself, painfully hobbled and muzzled with
rawhide strips. On its head was a broad, golden-colored stripe. Drawing his
sword, the ferret touched its point to the rare-colored stripe. "Get up,
Scumtripe, and give your master a ride over there," he said.

The vermin crowding around the flames jeered and laughed as Swartt sat upon
the badger's back and goaded it forward, raking with his claws and slapping it
with the flat of his sword blade. Hobbled close, the young creature could only
take small

Outcast of Redwatt 9

stumbling steps. Anguished growls issued from its bound mouth as it fumbled
through the snow.

Swartt thought it no end of a joke, shouting aloud for the benefit of his
band, "Giddy up, Scumtripe, y'great lazy stripedog, move!"
Skarlath eyed the ferret fearfully as Swartt brought his face close, leering
and licking his lips. "Well now, what 'ave we 'ere? A kestrel, not as tasty as
quail or wood pigeon, but young and tender, I'll wager. Stuck fast by the ice,
are ye, bird? That'll keep y'nice an' fresh until you join me at breakfast!"

Then, dragging the badger cruelly up, he tied the halter attached to its
muzzle to an overhanging limb of the hornbeam. "Here's a good job for ye,
ScumtripeтАФguard my breakfast until momin'! Yer gettin' too fat'n'lazy lyin' by
the fire." Swartt Sixclaw strode off, chuckling, to rejoin his band round the
flames, leaving the unfortunate pair fastened to the tree.

An hour passed, when all that could be heard was the crackling of pine logs as
flames devoured them; the vermin camp was silenced in sleep. Suddenly, in one
swift, silent movement, the badger flung his body close against the kestrel,
trapping the bird between himself and the bark. At first the young kestrel
thought he was to be smothered, but the warmth from the soft fur of the
badger's chest started to melt the ice. Slowly, Skarlath felt the blood begin
to stir in his veins. Although the badger was tethered and muzzled, he clung
on tightly with all his strengm until at last Skarlath was able to move his
head and wings. Skarlath jerked his head around until he found himself looking
into the dark eyes of the golden-striped creature. Both young ones stared at