"Morgan Llywelyn - Druids" - читать интересную книгу автора (Llywelyn Morgan)

Miraculously my feet found the way without stumbling over a
stone and pitching me headlong. The trees swallowed me. But
even then I was not safe, I had to get to the grove of the oaks, the
sacred grove. I pushed through a tangle of undergrowth, holding
an up-flung arm in front of my face to protect it. My harsh breath-
ing was so loud the wolves could have tracked me by the sound

alone.
A stitch of pain tore through my side like a bolt of lightning.

Perhaps it was lightning. Perhaps I had been struck dead and
would not have to run anymore. Then the pain ebbed and I strug-
gled on, tripping over roots, sobbing for breath, trying to hear if

the wolves were behind me.

The undergrowth thinned; I was on the last steep rise leading
to the grove of ancient oak trees. I gave a gasp of relief. Next
moment I stumbled and fell forward into a hollow filled with dead

leaves.

The leaves closed over me.

I lay panting, listening for the patter of feet. Nothing. Only the
thunder of my blood in my ears. I dared to hope the wolves had
not been after me at all, but on the trail of some smaller, easier

game.

When it seemed I might be safe, I settled deeper into the bed
of dry leaves. It was as good a place as any, and warmer than
most. I could wait in relative comfort until the dawn, knowing I
was well concealed at the very edge of the grove. The druids
would come with the dawn. . . .

Then I heard singing and the night was over.

DRUIDS 9

They must have come right past me on their way to the grove.

Cautiously I crept forward, trying to get closer to the clearing
in the center of the grove where the most powerful of druid rituals
took place. An immense holly bush barred my way. It stood at
me very edge of the glade; if I could get inside it I could see
without being seen. Or so I thought.

I flopped down on my belly and wriggled forward, propelled
by knees and elbows, smelling cold earth and leaf mold, until I