"Diana Wynne Jones - The Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

“Down, Chaser! Come on, Snuffer! Bell and Doom, get away, get on
!” He cracked his whip again. Hayley saw that he was careful not to
hit any of the dogs. “Come on, all of you!” he shouted.
It took a while, and a lot more shouting and whip cracking, but
at length the dogs turned away from these interesting new humans
they had found. One or two put noses to the ground. One gave an
excited yelp. And finally they all rushed away into the forest with
the boy running and bounding behind them.
“Oh, I liked him!” Hayley said. “Who is he?”
“Another huntsman,” Flute said. “One of many. We’re on the
hunters’ strand here. But I think we ought to be getting back now.
I’ve got a busy afternoon, and I suspect that your grandmother will
be wanting you by now.” He strode off through the sunlit forest in
the same direction that the boy and his dogs had gone.
Hayley said, “Bother!” as she trudged after him. The midge
people had come back again to circle in the sun and she had wanted
to watch them.
Just as she caught up with Flute, the boy came racing back
towards them. He was older now, with a little curl of beard on his
chin, and he ran as if he was running for his life. If he noticed Flute
or Hayley as he tore past them, he gave no sign of it. His eyes were
set with terror and he just ran. Behind him came all the dogs, older
too now, and a bit gaunt and grizzled. They were all snarling. One
or two had foam coming from their mouths and all their eyes
glared. As the boy crashed past Flute and Hayley the foremost dog
almost caught him and then lost ground because it had a
bloodstained piece of the boy’s trousers in its mouth. The rest
chased on furiously.
Hayley clutched Flute’s hand. “Do they catch him?”
Flute nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Hayley was horrified. “ Why ?”
“He managed to be really offensive to a goddess,” Flute told her.
“Things like this happen on every strand, you know. The
mythosphere is not an entirely happy place.”
“But it looks so beautiful!” Hayley protested.
Flute laughed a little. “Beauty isn’t made of sugar,” he said.
“Through this way now.”
They pushed their way through some thick laurels and came out
into the common again. Hayley stared from the bushes behind her
to the still impossible sight of her grandparents’ house beyond the
road, over there .
 Flute said, “Do you think you can find your own way back, or do
you want me to take you?”
“I’d rather stay with you,” Hayley said. She felt raw with sorrow
over the fate of the nice boy.
“Not possible, I’m afraid,” Flute said. “But I’ll show you some
more magic quite soon if you like. See you.” He plunged back
among the laurels and was gone.
Definitely gone, Hayley knew. She stood and wondered what
Grandma might say if Hayley simply went across the road and rang