"Dan Parkinson - Dragonlance Tales 3 - Love and War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Parkinson Dan)

As for Petal, she cried for days and days. She wanted to
go back to Gateway. She wanted to flirt with her suitors.
But Aron said, "You'll get used to it here. Soon, things
will be back the way they were before all this foolishness
started."
Petal did, in fact, stop crying, but things never quite
went back to the way they were. Petal was lonely, and she
never looked happy.
"What's the matter?" Aron finally snapped one day from
his loom while Petal, long-faced, was sprinkling fragrant
pine needles on the floor. "I was good enough company all
these years!"
"Oh, Father," said Petal, pausing in her work, her eyes
watering, "I still love you but as MY FATHER. Now it's
time I loved another, as my husband."
"Nonsense!" said Aron with a wave of his hand.
"There'll be plenty of time for that when I'm dead!"
"Don't talk that way!" said Petal, stepping toward her
father, dropping the rest of the pine needles.
"What way? One day I'll be gone, and then you'll be
able to entertain all the young men you want!" And, with
that, Aron turned his back on his daughter and continued his
weaving.
The arguments usually went that way, and they always
broke Petal's heart. Finally, she stopped bringing up the
subject, which was what Aron wanted, anyway.
The days settled into a routine. Aron worked
methodically and constantly at his loom, and Petal tended
the cottage and the garden. Neither said much to the other.
Petal continued to look sad, and Aron, even way out in the
forest, continued to feel uneasy:
What if one of those tom cats should sniff his way to the
cottage, after all? What if a whole gang of them should
arrive and start wailing at his door?
Or, worse yet: What if Petal sneaked away?
This last thought truly began to worry Aron. He kept a
constant eye on his daughter, which caused many uneven
threads in his weaving. He became so nervous that if Petal
were out of his sight for any length of time - and he did not
hear her, either - he'd jump up from his loom, knocking
over his chair, and cry out, "Petal! Come here!"
"What is it, Father?" she'd call, hurrying into the
cottage, with, say, a basket of mushrooms she had been
gathering.
Aron never answered. He was just glad to see his
daughter, and, relieved, he'd pick up his chair and resume
his weaving.
Nights, though, proved even worse for Aron than the
days. It was then he had to sleep, and so it was then he
could keep neither eye nor ear on his daughter. He kept