"Mithgar - 01 - Eye Of The Hunter" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKiernan Dennis L)

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Chapter 1
Out of the Storm

Late Winter, 5E988
[The Present]





Predator and prey: the sudden blast of snow interrupted the race for life, the race for death, the boreal owl taking to the swirling branches of a barrens pine, the arctic hare scuttering under the protecting overhang of a rock jut. And driven before the wind, a wall of white moaned across the 'scape, while both hunter and hunted sheltered, waiting for the storm to end, for the race to begin again, for flight and pursuit, for life or death.

But now the race was suspended as snow and ice hurtled across the land, hammering upon anything standing in its way, the wind sobbing and groaning and filling the air with the sound of its agony. And the hare crouched beneath the rock and closed its eyes against the snow pelting inward, while high in a distant tree, a furlong or so away, the owl blinked and turned its head northerly, and deadly talons gripped tightly, disputing the lash of the branch.

And they waited.

Yet these two were not alone there in the Untended Lands, there along the north face of the Grimwall Mountains, for something deadly raced across the icy waste.

Perhaps the owl sensed it first, or mayhap the hareЧwho can say?

Out from the north it came, there where the owl stared:

Dark shapes bobbing in the distance, obscured by the storm. Nearing.

And an eighth of a mile north of the owl's tree, under the rock the hare felt the vibrations, not the occasional shaking of this unstable land, but a ragged drumming upon the ground:

Feet pounding, furred, clawed, racing southward, down from the north. Killers.

In the thrashing branches the owl peered at the oncoming running shapes, ready to take flight should the need arise.

More than one. Through the storm. Coming swiftly. Still obscured.

The hare opened its eyes but made no other movements, relying upon snow and white fur and utter stillness for protection.

Thudding paws. Many. A pack. Racing, running.

Onward they came, the owl watching.

Three of them. In a line. One after another. Long, flowing shapes. Each with something large racing after.