"Kate Wilhelm - Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

tree that was his friend was the same, perhaps larger, he couldnтАЩt tell. He could not see the sky
through its branches covered with new, vivid green leaves. He made a lean-to and slept under the
tree that night, and the next morning he solemnly told it good-bye and began to climb the slopes
overlooking the farm. The house was still there, but the barn was gone, and the other
outbuildingsтАФswept away by the flood they had started so long ago.
He reached the antique forest where he watched a flying insect beat its wings almost lazily
and remembered his grandfather telling him that even the insects here were primitiveтАФslower than
their more advanced cousins, less adaptable to hot weather or dry spells.
It was misty and very cool under the trees. The insect had settled on a leaf, and in the
golden sunlight it too seemed golden. For a brief moment David thought he heard a birdтАЩs trill, a
thrush. It was gone too fast to be certain, and he shook his head. Wishful thinking, no more than
wishful thinking.
In the antique forest, a cove forest, the trees waited, keeping their genes intact, ready to
move down the slopes when the conditions were right for them again. David stretched out on the
ground under the great trees and slept, and in the cool, misty milieu of his dream saurians walked
and a bird sang.




PART TWO



Shenandoah


Chapter 10


A July haze hung over the valley, dimming outlines; heat shimmered the air above the fields.
It was a day without hard edges. The breeze that moved through the valley was soft and warm. The
corn was luxuriant, higher than a manтАЩs head. The wheat was golden brown, responsive to any change
in the wind; the entire field moved at once, as if it were a single organism rippling a muscle,
relieving tension perhaps. Beyond the corn the land broke and tumbled down to meet the river,
which looked smooth and unmoving. The river was crystal clear, but from the second floor of the
hospital, by a trick of the haze-filtered light, the water became rust-colored and solid, metal
dulled by neglect.
Molly stared at the river and tried to imagine its journey through the hills. She let her
gaze drift back toward the dock and the boat there, but trees concealed it from the upper floor of
the hospital. There was a film of sweat on her face and neck. She lifted her hair from the back of


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her neck where some of it clung, plastered to her skin.
тАЬNervous?тАЭ Miriam slipped her arm about MollyтАЩs waist.
Molly rested her head against MiriamтАЩs cheek for a second, then straightened again. тАЬI might
be.тАЭ