"Nancy Springer - Isle 03 - The Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

toward Lee, and Arundel knows that way well. There will be a messenger from Rafe, mark my words.
But do not tell Gwern."
"Lee!" Alan protested, astonished. "But how can you be so sure? Celydon also lies eastward, and
Whitewater, and Nemeton. Not to speak of the whole Great Eastern Forest."

"Something awaits him at Lee," Lysse stated with quiet certainty. "Do not tell Gwern! I want to see what
happens."



Chapter Two

Meg had never, not even in her silliest daydreams, fancied herself to be pretty. She knew that she had a
comical, pointy face and a sharp nose like a benevolent witch. Indeed, witch was what some folk called
her, all because the birds would alight on her hands. She did not mind being different, and it pleased her
that the dappled deer did not fear her touch. But she minded being skinny. Some girls could make do
with comeliness that bloomed below the neck, but not her, she told herself. Her skirts fell straight from
her waistless middle, and she always had to sew ruffles inside the front of her blouses to give some
fullnessтАФthough not fullness enough.

Still, she had never, not even in her grimmest nightmares, imagined herself looking such a fright as now.
Slogging along through the snow in her old pair of men's boots, skirt torn and draggled, shawl clutched
from her shoulders by the lowering Forest trees. Hatless, with her hair frazzled by the wind, eyes red and
weepy, sharp nose running from cold and exertion and emotion. Flushed and panting, she struggled
along, knowing it would be lunacy to stay out after dark, but too stubborn to give up.

She found her cow at last and stood frozen a moment in



astonishment that overcame her hurry. Mud! A gooshy, oozing, undulating pool of mud rilled a hollow of
the frost-bound Forest. From the center of the expanse, round brown eyes looked back at her. Only the
cow's head showed above the surface. Wisps of steam rose around her.

"Come on, the*n, Molly," Meg called gently.

The cow did not budge.

Meg coaxed, pleaded, extended a bribe of oats. Molly did not even twitch an ear. The day was moving
on apace. Meg rolled her eyes heavenward and went in after her.

"What is even more appealing than yer plain, everyday Meg?" she muttered viciously to herself. "Why, a
Meg covered with mud, that is what! World, are ye watching?"

As she had hoped, the bottom of the mud hole was solid. She forced her way through the twenty feet of
brown pudding that separated Molly from the shore and took her by the halter. Molly would not move.
Meg could hardly blame her, for the mud was deliciously warm and the air increasingly cold.

"Come on, Molly, we can't stay here all night!" she cried helplessly, tugging at the cow. Then she
jumped, and screamed.