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

And mingled in with the sound of the wind came strange cries and a sharp cracking, and the ears of the hare twitched.

More than a pack. Several packs. Killers all. One after another. Hammering. And something calling out.

Now the first was close enough for the owl to see.

Wolves, or the like. Running in a line. And behind, another pack. Or so it seemed. And another pack after.

Past the hare's shelter they raced, mere yards away.

Flashing legs. Wolf legs. Killer legs. All running. Grey fur. Black. And silver. Bound together. Running before something large. Something gliding upon the snow.

One after another they passed the hiding place of the motionless hare. First, nineteen racing animals, then another nineteen, and another. And something crack! snapped in the air, and something called out Yah! Yah! as they thundered past, killers running through the wind and snow and hauling the gliding things after.

And though they had hammered past and away and were gone, the storm swallowing them up, still the hare remained motionless.

And a furlong beyond in the wind-tossed tree, the white I owl watched as the three teams emerged from the whirl and hauled the sleds across the frozen white, the drivers behind standing on the runners and cracking their whips and urging the part-wolves, part-dogs onward, the passengers on the sleds bundled against the chill.

The owl's head rotated 'round as they came on and past and away, racing through the blowing snow and toward the south, through the blowing snow and toward the looming Grimwall Mountains standing ominously in the distance, barring the way.

Swiftly the sights and sounds of the intruders faded away, lost in the storm.

And only the yawl of the wind and pelting of the snow remained.

And time eked by.

Still the owl gripped the branch.

Still the hare crouched below the stone. . . .

The storm blew itself out sometime after nightfall. And the Moon rose and cast its argent light across the snowy 'scape. In the silvery luminance the white hare warily sniffed the air, its long ears twitching, listening for danger.

Nothing.

Cautiously, the hare emerged from under the rock jut. After a hop or two, again it stopped and listened, ears turning this way and that, eyes wide and gazing.

At last it set off for its burrow, some distance away.

And from the high branches of a remote tree, a white owl quietly launched itself into a long, silent glide.





Chapter 2
Mygga and Fщ

Late Winter, 5E988
[The Present]