"Wentworth-AsYouSow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

it. He sat on the floor beside it and tried to coax its hooked beak open so he
could spoon a bit of warm vegetable soup into its mouth.

"I won't have that filthy, disgusting creature in my clean house!" Sonya watched
him from the other side of the room. "Take it outside this instant!"

"Maybe tomorrow, "he said, "if its wing is better. I don't want a fox to get
it."

"And I'm telling you that a fox is the least of your worries!"

He glanced up to see her standing before him, dressed in her Sunday-best apron
and scarf, holding a lumpy bundle tied up in a sheet.

"Either you take that bird outside right now, or I'm going home to my father's
house." Her foot tapped on the floor. "I want an answer, Ungern."

"But I can't." He tucked the blanket more securely around the bird's body and
stood up. "It would die."

"Fine." She heaved the bundle of clothes onto her sturdy shoulder. "Maybe a few
days alone will teach you to appreciate me. Let me know when you've come to your
senses, but you'd better not wait too long. My cousin, Hilda, wants me to live
in Tallin with her. She works for a fine family there and says I could get on
staff too. I may not want to come back and slave for a mealy-mouthed excuse of a
man like you anymore."

Ungern watched her open the door. "Don't you think you're being a little hasty?"

Her only answer was to slam the door behind her.

The next morning, he woke up to find his bird walking around the kitchen and
peering at Sonya's pots with curious black eyes. Ungern coaxed a handful of
moistened oatmeal down it, then hacked off a chunk of Sonya's dense black bread
for himself. Chewing, he tried to decide if he missed her. Somehow, the one-room
cottage seemed brighter now, almost cheery. Perhaps, he told himself, it wasn't
so much that Sonya was gone, but that the bird was here.

Outside, the sky turned a golden rose in the east. He leaned against the side of
the open door, enjoying the crisp dawn air on his face, wondering if he should
leave the injured bird in the house while he worked in Lord Kreutzwald's fields,
or send it back to the pond.

Above, the air began to reverberate with shrill calls and beating wings. He ran
out into the yard, scattering Sonya's brown chickens before him, and looked up.
A host of slim white birds with black-edged wings circled the pond, once, twice,
then landed close to the water on their stilt-like legs, clacking their great,
hooked beaks and squawking contentedly.

As he looked at his birds, something inside him hurt, like a sweet note on the