"Ardath Mayhar - Hunters of the Plains" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mayhar Ardath)

Do-na-ti took the small badger carefully, trying hard to keep his face solemn. This was an important gift,
the first of the magical items that would safeguard him as an adult.



After the pot had been emptied and the family lay beside the fire, belching and talking quietly, Do-na-ti
moved close to his grandfather. The old man turned to the young one and gazed at him with speculation
in his rheumy eyes. "I believe that we have a new dog who will hunt the great woolly ones," he said.

Do-na-ti felt his heart leap and pound. To wear the dog skin, slipping through the herd of mammoths as
one of the plains wolves, was a dangerous and wonderful thing. To begin one's manhood with a hunt in
which he played the part of the dog would mean that he would acquire respect much earlier than most
new-made men.

His mother glanced at him over the fire, her eyes widening, then closing. She understood the danger. She
also understood the honor of the thing, and he knew she would never say a word against his taking on the
role.

Ke-len-ne, his uncle, slipped away to the place where valuable items were piled. When he returned, he
carried the pale pelt of a huge dog that had been skinned for the purpose of the hunt. That had been a
brave dog, unafraid of man or snake or giant bison, and, for that reason, when he died he had been so
honored.

Do-na-ti held out his arms, and Ke-len-ne laid the soft pelt over them. Holding the head skin high, the
young man slipped his own head into the cavity where the dog's had been.

The skin slid silkily over his back, and he dropped to all fours and tried his best to walk like a dog. He let
his hindquarters sink, wagging them back and forth to make the tail move. A feeling of power and
warmth filled him, and Do-na-ti managed a yelp so lifelike that the other dogs belonging to his clan, who
lived outside in the weather, replied in a series of shrill yelps and staccato yips. For a moment the noise
was so great that the smaller children were frightened and took refuge beside their parents and older
siblings.

But Do-na-ti, satisfied with his ability to play the dog, quieted. Around him his people smiled with quiet
pride. He would, he could see in their eyes, make them proud when the hunt went forward.

He laid the skin reluctantly into his uncle's hands again. Being an adult, he was beginning to understand,
held strange and exciting matters that as a child he had not suspected. Among those was the ritual—he
could hardly contain himself as he schooled himself to wait.

CHAPTER THREE



The day of the Badger Dance dragged interminably. Do-na-ti went about his usual tasks so
absentmindedly that he lost his knife twice and himself once, which was highly unusual for one as familiar
with the intimate details of the countryside as he.

This day was unlike yesterday. The sun shone harshly, even as it halved itself on the horizon and sank.