"Clayton Emery - Joseph Fisher - Inwardly Ravening Wolves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

candle brighter, wriggled on elbows and stomach
and toes. The fug of wolf fur and carrion made his
nose itch and lungs burn. As the crack narrowed, he
chipped his chin on a root. For a moment, panic
shrilled that he would get stuck, but if the
deep-chested wolf could pass, so could a skinny
student. Chill earth under his nose showed new claw
marks. Jiggling the candle, hauling the heavy
musket, he crawled on.

Then he saw.

Generations of wolves had kicked and clawed dirt
outside until the cave was round and chambered like
a cow's stomach. At the back lay a gray-and-white
spectre. Yellow eyes bored into Joseph's from eight
feet away. Curious, wary, the wolf growled
experimentally to see if the man retreated.

How strange, thought the student, that he felt more
kinship for this lonely beast than for the men
outside. Strange and sad because, gasping, Joseph
propped his elbows, fumbled the musket to his
shoulder, racked back the hammer, aimed below the
golden eyes.

"Forgive me, Malsum. I act for the sake of a dead
robin. `Truth is always bitter.'"

The wolf growled again, the sound rising.

Joseph pulled the trigger.
He'd forgotten about the noise.

In the confined chamber, the musket's KA-PLAM!
was horrendous. Joseph saw the spark in the pan,
felt the kick at his shoulder, then it seemed the walls
smashed against his head. By the gun's yellow flare
he saw the wolf blown back, then clouds of
sewage-rank smoke set him gagging and coughing.

Something latched onto his ankles and hauled him
backwards like a pike on a line. Slithering helplessly,
Joseph's chin clipped the root again, and he lost the
musket. His bared chest dragged over dirt and
rocks. He erupted outside into fresh air and twilight.

A worried Paul towered above. His mouth gaped,
obviously shouting, but all Joseph heard was a vast
ringing in his ears like a thunderstorm in a bottle.