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

The women made a circle around the elders, and the maidens formed another, facing the younger
warriors. The mature men stood motionless in a giant ring that enclosed them all. The wide-eyed children
sat quietly within the protective curve of the group.

When the chant ended, the elders stood and raised their hands in command. The women began a
shuffling step, clockwise around the fire. The girls moved in the opposite direction, and the young
warriors began to move, too.

Do-na-ti found himself looking into the eyes of E-lo-ni as she moved slowly past, her feet keeping perfect
time with the drum. His heart felt too large for his chest, as if it might choke off his breath and smother
him.

The firelight mottled the fur hoods, the faces, the bodies of the dancers. The young man found himself
dizzy as he danced, for the circling shapes blurred before his eyes, light dancing with dark, shadow with
red-gold reflection.

The face of E-lo-ni floated before him, and he could not say if it might be passing him in reality or was a
part of his mind, embedded in his heart. That, too, seemed to fill him, taking away his breath, stretching
him to a point at which he felt that he might split like a puffball in the autumn.

But he kept his face properly expressionless, his gaze straight ahead, his shoulders straight. The already
rank smell of the partially treated fur of his hood was strangely exciting, making his blood throb almost
painfully through his body; his loins ached as he danced.

The drum pounded more and more loudly, more quickly, forcing the dancers to pick up their pace. The
dust raised by the shuffling feet became a golden mist in the firelight, and its tickle in his nose made
Do-na-ti sneeze. But others were also sneezing and coughing, and no one noticed.

He moved faster, faster still, keeping his steps in time with his companions and the demanding drum.
Now he was sweating, the fur almost unbearably hot and irritating as it trapped his own sweat close to
his skin.
The fire was dying as the dance reached its height. When the blaze had been reduced to a hillock of red
coals, the drum crashed with a final thunderous boom.

Instantly the dancers halted. For a long moment no one moved or spoke. Then Tu-ri-nit said, "Let the
new warrior of the Badger Clan come forth."

Numb with exhaustion and excitement, Do-na-ti almost glanced about to see who was meant. And then
he remembered. He gave a great sigh and stepped forward, passing through the ring of maidens, the ring
of women, to face the triangle of elders and the embers of the fire.

He knew the ritual, for he had seen it done many times as he grew up among the People. He untied the
red thongs, removed the badger hood, and stepped forward to face the Badger elder.

Tu-ri-nit extended his arms, his hands held palm upward. Into those hands Do-na-ti laid his badger-skin
hood, with the mask upward so that the teeth snarled into the lined face of the elder.

Tu-ri-nit raised it high, showing it to the moon, just rising above the eastern swells. He held it low for the
Fox and the Bison elders to see. He held it to the fire, for the fire was akin to the sun and was the source
of life.