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

A small group of bison, stragglers from the great herd that had moved north several suns before, grazed
in a loose clump, directly in his path. Sighing, Do-na-ti changed shoulders with his burden and turned his
steps to the right, to circle the beasts.

Sometimes one could go near such a quiet group without peril, but their tempers were uncertain at best
and murderous if they were suddenly roused by something they saw as a danger. The summer before, he
had seen the best hunter in the clan trampled to death by four bison that had been lying down in a small
valley. Seeing him pass, they had risen to charge.

Luckily, they had targeted only one of the three who had traveled with On-e-to, which had spared
Do-na-ti and his friend Sem-it. Even now, the boy shivered at the memory, for all they had found of
On-e-to, once the beasts had thundered away, was a crumple of blood and splintered bone and torn
flesh. The two boys had borne him back to the village wrapped in a deerhide, for the rituals of death
demanded that his body be present. Do-na-ti had never forgotten the lesson he learned that day.

As he moved cautiously around the quiet animals, the young man kept his mind focused on that terrible
incident. When the women had wrapped On-e-ti in his best robe, binding him together with strips of hide
hidden beneath the softly tanned leather, his face had been covered, for it was no longer a face.

Do-na-ti had no wish to end up so, particularly now that he was so near to beginning his life as a man.
Tonight his mother and father would be quietly glad. Tomorrow they would prepare the ceremony. And
then… and then E-lo-ni would be his wife, and they would begin their adult lives together.

CHAPTER TWO



The herd bulls stamped and snorted uneasily, feeling a change in the density of the air, the texture
of the wind. Although their minds were slow and dim, the animals sensed weather with an
unerring instinct, and the entire massive group seemed to hesitate before continuing the
northward movement that was normal at this time of the year.

After the noon rest, sheltering amid the scanty growths of trees that dotted the landscape, the
herd did not continue moving slowly northward as they grazed. Instead, they turned hack on their
tracks, though the grass left behind was chewed short and fouled with dung. Driven by the threat
of weather, they moved south again.



The bright morning had turned into a cloud-ridden noon. As Do-na-ti hurried across the plain toward his
home village, where the circle of earthen lodges huddled against the lee of a small hill, the towering clouds
moved over the country. Now the sunlight was gone, the patches of sunflowers making the only
brightness in a landscape gone gray-tan and lifeless. The scrubby brush was gray and spiritless now, and
the tree leaves hung limp.

The boy felt suddenly very alone, very far from the comfort of his clan's lodges, vulnerable beneath the
lowering sky. In the distance there was the mutter of thunder, and lightning stitched from sky to earth at
the edge of the plain.