"Andre Norton - WW - Secrets 03 - The Warding of Witch World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

There was a belt with knife and small pouch, and at length she pulled from near the bottom of the coffer
the backpack she kept ever ready for travel needs, checking to make sure that it held salves and herbs
for the treatment of wounds.

There was no question in Destree's mind that she would find Gruck -- that this poor refugee
from another place was now her charge. Chief leaped out of the shadows and took the fore, entering the
woods- at a different angle than the hunters had followed. She listened but could hear nothing of their
clamor and she wondered how far back into the thickly wooded hills they had gone.

"Gruck?" She sent out a mind-call. But there was nothing to anchor it and so draw her to her
quarry. She did not know what Gruck looked like. She knew little more than the creatures emotions at its
displacement and perhaps the hunt on its track.

Chief appeared to have no doubts about direction. For want of a better guide, Destree followed
the leaping passage of the great cat.

Now -- now -- she could hear!

The clamor of the hunt suggested that Gruck was at bay. She hastened her pace from trot to run.
They must not kill this stranger! It was not of its doing that it had come here. Yes, it had killed a sheep)
-- but that was because it hungered. It had killed a dog which attacked it. Certainly no man there ahead
could say that he would have done otherwise in its place.

Destree came into the open. There had been a forest fire, storm-set, here a year ago. The land
was all blackened stumps and sprouting green between. And there was a tall rock firmly planted. Around
that the battle now raged.

Three dogs lay dead and a fourth crept away, uttering a keening howl. With its back against the
rock, the monster half crouched. It was taller than any man Destree had seen, and its entire body was
covered with thick curls of wiry black hair. Yet its head was well proportioned by human standards and
its green eyes held intelligence. One of its arms had been crudely wrapped in a covering of leaves already
torn and half gone.

About its waist, seemingly too small for the width of those heavy shoulders, there was a wide
belt, along which ran glitters with every movement of its body.

Why Foss or one of the other bowmen had not already shot it down Destree did not know.
Perhaps that was by the grace of the Lady. She raised her voice now. The land about them seemed to
amplify her call.

"Hold!"

With Chief running at the same easy pace before her, she cut down into that place of desolation.
The hunters had turned their heads at her call, though Foss's attention swung almost instantly away and he
had arrow to string now.
 "This is not of the Dark." her voice came pantingly. She shoved between two of the men before
they knew she was upon them and threw herself into place before the creature at bay.

Foss's face was bleak. "Stand aside, Voice. We owe you much, but we have no place for
monsters."