"Kim Wilkins - The Autumn Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilkins Kim)

other and made it to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of water to drink by the light of the open
fridge.

Starving. She hadn't eaten since lunchtime. She crouched to inspect the contents of the fridge and found
some leftover spaghetti. Jude probably hadn't eaten either. Perhaps she could make them both some
dinner and take it down to the studio. She grabbed the bowl and backed up.

Bang!

Jude, in his housecleaning frenzy, had moved the table. Its corner struck the small of Christine's back,
sending a shooting barb of pain deep inside her spine. The bowl jumped out of her hands and crashed to
the floor. Her fingers went to her back, searching vainly for the place to switch off the awful pain. A hot
gush of white noise swept past her ears, making her head spin. Oh, no, she was going to black out. Her
body wasn't able to process the pain, was choosing oblivion instead. She felt for the table, tried to hold
herself up, heard a twisted groan that she barely recognized as her own. A whoosh of fluttering wings
battered her head. The world went white; then gray; then, finally, black.

CHAPTER THREE



Relief. Instant, marvelous, floating relief.

I must be dead.

Because never, in the past thirteen years, had she been completely without the pain. She savored it, the
loose drifting freedom in her back. Relief, glorious relief. It was overwhelming and intoxicating andтАФ

Wait a minute. Where the hell am I?

Christine opened her eyes and was dazzled by golden slanted sunshine. A canopy of trees stretched
above her, their leaves stained with the tawny streaks of autumn. She lay on a bed of leaves; the world
smelled damp and earthy.

This must be a dream: she had blacked out and slipped into a dream. But could that be right? She had
been unconscious a number of times in her life and had never dreamed, not even in her long coma. Unless
she had dreamed and hadn't remembered on waking. The thought struck her heart sadly: to know such
pleasure yet not remember was tragic.

She sat up, determined to memorize everything. But the forest yielded more details than she could
commit to memory. This dream landscape was perfectly realistic. For a startled moment, Christine
wondered if she had somehow strayed down to a remote corner of the Tiergarten in her stupor, and
fallen asleep among the leaves. But no, the trees were too vast and the air was too quiet.

A flutter in the branches behind her caught her attention. She peered into the dark, but could see nothing.
An instant later, the fluttering approached from her left. She cried out as a shining black crow swooped
down and plucked at her scalp. Cowering under her hands, she waited for it to return. But it settled on a
branch nearby, gazing at her, one of her long brown hairs in its beak. Christine rubbed her head. Why did
that hurt, when her back didn't? The bird spread its wings and took off. This was the most vivid dream
she had ever experienced.