"Jennifer Roberson - CotC 4 - The House of Homana" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

desire.

тАФCarillon would keep still for hoursтАФCarillon would
never speakтАФCarillon would know best how to do the
jobтАФ

Distracted by my thoughts, I did not hear the sound
behind me. I sensed only the shadow, the weight of the
stalking beastтАФ

Even as I tried to turn on cramping foot, the bow was
knocked flying from my hands. Half-sheathed daws shred-
ded leather hunting doublet and, beneath that, linen,
shirt. Weight descended and crushed me to the ground,
grinding my face into damp leaves and soggy tun.




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In the cold, breath rushed out of my nose and mouth
like smoke from a dragon's gullet. Mountain cat.

I knew it at once, even as the cat's weight shifted and
1

allowed me room to move. 'nrere is a smell, not unpleas-
ant, about the cats. A sense of presence. An ambience,
created the moment one of their kind appears.

I rolled, coming up onto my knees, jerking the knife
free of the sheath at my beltтАФ

тАФand froze.

A female. Full-fleshed and in prime condition. Her
lush red coat was a dappled chestnut at shoulders and
haunches. The tail lashed in short, vicious arcs as she
crouched. Dark-tipped ears flattened against wedge-shaped
bead as she snaried, displaying an awesome assemblage
of curving teeth.

She hissed, as a housecat will do when taken by surprise.

And then she purred.

I swore. Slammed the knife home into its sheath. Spat
out mud and stripped decaying leaf from face and hair.