"Jane Lindskold - Firekeeper Saga 4 - Wolf Captured" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

Derian Carter awoke with his shirtfront wet with blood and his head pounding. The floor on which he lay
was damp and reeked so strongly of piss and vomit that his stomach roiled. The rough board planks also
seemed to be rising and falling—an impression he was willing to dismiss given how the rest of him felt.

Derian had experienced his share of hangovers, but this one was the worst by far. His last coherent
memory was of dancing with that pretty girl from Bright Bay. She'd suggested they go for a walk along
the riverbank. Something in how she phrased her invitation hinted that she had activities in mind more
interesting than merely strolling on the spring-thick sward. She'd been very pretty, the neckline of her
gown cut very deep. Derian had followed with slightly tipsy alacrity.

How had he gotten here?

A husky voice broke into Derian's efforts to sort fragmented impressions into order.

"Fox Hair? You wake?"

The voice came from a short distance away, and for the first time Derian registered the dimness of the
room. There was enough light for him to see his hands and the dark stain on the front of his shirt, but the
light was diffuse, leaking into a chamber imperfectly sealed rather than being shed by sunlight or lantern.

Where was he?

The voice, forgotten almost as soon as heard, came again.

"Fox Hair! Derian! I hear you move. Talk."

The words were gruff, urgent, words spoken from a mouth struggling to give shape to the sounds,
struggling against panic that would drive away the words and leave nothing but whimpers and howls.

A deeply ingrained sense of responsibility for the person who used that voice gave Derian his first breath
of stability. He clung to it, grabbing his aching head between the curved fingers of his hands, forcing
himself to remember. He found a word.

"Firekeeper?"

The sigh of relief that answered held a soft whimper, but when the voice spoke again there was no hint of
tears.

"Firekeeper. Is."

A remembered image came with the voice, a woman, a few years younger than he. Dark brown hair
slightly curly, cut unevenly, as from necessity rather than with any sense of style. Eyes very dark, figure
slim, but no longer starvation skinny. Neither tall nor short, but somewhere in between.

Firekeeper, the woman who thought herself a wolf rather than a human. Firekeeper, whom he had taught
to use the words she was in danger of losing. Firekeeper.

Memory almost sucked him from reality. The voice brought him back again.

"Fox Hair. You bleed. How bad?"