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

She rose, reveling in the easy movement. The trees thinned out a few hundred feet in the distance so she
headed in that direction, walking a few paces and then running, a laugh on her lips. The trees parted and
she emerged in a rocky ravine, bathed in golden light. Across the slope was a path, leading her eye up
toтАж

A crooked little castle.

"My God!" she exclaimed, laughing. Its slender twisted turrets, long, fluttering flags, and curved stone
walls hovered in the distant golden mist of setting sun. What an imagination she had. If Jude had dreams
like this, he'd never have painter's block again. Then she smiled to herself. Jude could dream this and still
he would paint monochrome abstracts.

She picked her way over the slope toward the path. It was difficult; she was still wearing the black dress
she had worn to work that day, and her feet were bare. A pair of dream-shoes and dream-jeans and a
more level dream-ground would have been useful. A rancid smell wafted toward her. She turned her
head but saw nothing behind her. She walked on. She was nearly at the path when she glanced up and
saw that she was about to drop a bare foot into a stinking mess of rotted flesh.

She shrieked and scrambled back, falling onto her buttocks. A pig, it was just a pig. Dead, eyeless, its
stinking flesh black and the ground beneath it stained.

A light click-click sounded behind her. She turned. The crow again. A shudder moved through her body
as she imagined it plucking out the dead pig's eyes. She got to her feet, shaking and confused. She had
fallen down and felt no irritation of her old injury, so she must be dreaming. But everything seemed so
real and fluid, not at all like the surreal and disjointed images she was used to in dreams. A thread of
panic wormed into her stomach.

Just be calm. Maybe unconscious people dream differently than sleeping people.

The crow cricked its head to gaze at her, its golden eyes wary. She headed off toward the path, trying
not to look at the dead pig. It would be really good to wake up now, to be back in the apartment with
the broken spaghetti bowl.

But she banished the thought as soon as it occurred to her. A return to the apartment was a return to the
pain and, oh, it was going to be excruciating after that bruising she'd taken against the corner of the table.
No, she would stay a while in this pain-free world; enjoy the relief if not the scenery.

She checked on the crow and was startled to see a wolf sitting where the bird had been. She swallowed
a shriek.

"OkayтАж" she said to the large gray creature. "I know this is just a dream, and it's my dream, so you can
just get lost. I don't want you in my dream."
And then it spoke to her: opened its mouth and said something. Not English and not GermanтАФor, at
least, not any version of German she recognizedтАФand she took comfort in that. Dream gibberish, at last.

"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Wolf. Just stay away."

She wished she hadn't left the forest. Everything had been fine in the forest. She warily glanced at the
path, and saw two figures with a cart and horse. The wolf wasn't following her. She picked her way