"James Tiptree Jr. -10000 Light Years From Home" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tiptree James Jr)

through the alders, racing out of the river bottom on the line toward their trail.
Splashing behind them turned upstream. The wolf had chosen well, there was a deep basin which
the man must get around to reach their shore. They bounded up the bluff, the girl agile as a hare. When
they were out of the canyon the wolf veered into the trees.
The man came over the bluff to see the girl running alone up the tunnellike path far ahead. He
plunged after her, strong legs, eating space. But she was at the electric age for running, child-thin and
trained hard. When he slowed after his first burst she was going tirelessly, a peculiar weaving motion of
her torso making up the balance for missing arms. As she ran her eyes roamed in search of the slashes
they had left upon the trees beside the trail.
Suddenly there were new voices behind her—the dogs had joined the chase. The girl frowned,
speeded up. A big gray shadow swerved alongside, stopped with lifted leg beside a tree, then another.
The girl smiled, let her pace slow.
Shortly she heard the dogs’ voices change when they came to the wolf-sign. Shouts from the man,
yelps. No more sound of dogs.
She ran on. It was trot and trot now uphill, with the sun towering to noon. She was panting hard
when she came to the first of the places they had arranged. She leaped aside, glimpsing a gray form
among the trees, and jogged on up the rising ground.
Behind her came a sharp yell and then the grunts and flounder of the bogged man. She leaned
against a dead termitary. The trees were thinning here, the wind blew through to carry her tiredness
away.
 The wolf appeared, jerked his head irritably. She turned and trotted on into the wind. Over the
treetops she could see the blue line of rimrock far ahead. Trot and trot. The man held her in view now
and he was gaining.
Finally she swerved again and heard behind her the crack of breaking branches and the angry shout.
When she paused the wolf was by her. They listened together to the sounds of struggle coming through
the fading gusts of wind. She resumed of her own accord, knowing now that she could not outrun him.
The wolf remained, watchful.
The sun was yellowing into the horizon’s dust when she topped the final ridge and turned to look.
This was the limit of the wild-men’s trails; would he follow on beyond? She could hear nothing. The wolf
appeared, motioning her to a sunlit ledge. He butted her into position with his nose and pulled her jacket
apart. She sang out a sweet trill, ending in laughter.
As the echo died the wolf pushed her running down the rocks past their old camping place. In a
moment he joined her, grinning toothily, and then vanished to one side while she jogged on alone across
the unrolling shadows. When she glanced behind a ruddy figure was bobbing down the rocks. No dogs
were with him.
Shadows pooled underfoot, became twilight around her as they ran. Twilight turned to moonlight;
the wolf ranged ahead of her, his crooked tail held high; and she followed its flag across the plain. This
was old goat land, knobbed with clumps of thorn trees whose young were springing up everywhere now
that the goats were gone.
Presently the wolf let her slow to walking, pausing now and again to listen for the footfalls behind.
No other sound was here.
At last they halted. He drifted back silent as fog, to return briskly and lead her to a thorn clump.
Here she freed her feet and drank and ate greedily and drank again while he inspected and licked her
feet. But he would not let her unharness him, nor release her hair, and he made her put her boots on
before he got out the transmitter.
“We’ve got one. He’s very strong. Is Bonz all right?”
Questions rattled at them. The wolf cut off and pushed the girl’s body earthward into the dry thorn
chaff. Then he removed himself from her warm odors and leaped up an ant castle to lie facing back the
way they had come. His head, sunk onto his crossed paws, showed a fine tremor. One yellow eye was
open under the heavy brow. After a time his withers jerked, were still.