"Dan Parkinson. The Gates of Thorbardin ("DragonLance Saga Heroes II" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

vore. Come on and get it over with!"
Then it was there, thirty feet away, a sleek, stalking
predator of midnight black. Gold eyes spotted him, and
it paused, ears flattening back atop an ebony head as
wide as his body.
Its mouth opened wide to clear front fangs the size of
daggers. Its purr became a low roar, and it bunched its
massive body, long tail twitching. Then it charged...
two long bounds and a leap, front paws reaching for its
prey.

In the last instant, he released his hold and dropped. A
heavy paw the span of his own hand brushed his head.
Needle-sharp claws cut shallow furrows from his hair to
his brow. Then he was below it, and he heard the heavy
thump as the cat wedged itself into the slanting cut where
he had been.
He fell, rolled away, scrambled upright, and caught its
writhing tail in both hands, pulling himself upward. Feet
braced against stone, he climbed and swung himself to its
rump, dodging its thrashing hind claws. Hands full of
black fur, he pulled himself forward. The cat's roar be-
came a howl of rage. Its head came up and turned, great
teeth glinting as he grabbed the cat's head and threw him-
self over its shoulder, clinging for life. The cat shrieked.
He heard the snapping of bone.
For an instant he dangled between clawed paws that
had ceased to move, and felt the hot breath of the beast
on his face as its lungs emptied themselves. It did not
breathe again. Its neck was broken.
Feeling weak with hunger and exertion, he pulled him-
self atop the beast once more, sat there long enough to let
his muscles stop trembling, then raised himself above it,
feet braced against rock faces on either side. He began
prying the cat loose from the grip of the stone. When fi-
nally the huge body was free, he dragged it back to
where there was a little space, rolled it onto its back, got
out the wrapped shard of rock and set about dressing and
skinning the body.
He had almost completed the task when a voice behind
him said, "Take the tenderloin. Best part of a cat."
He turned, crouching. The person who stood there, a
few yards away, was nearly his own height, but slighter
of build. He was beardless, though the great mane of his
hair had been caught up in leather wraps at one side and
was looped around his neck like a fur collar. He leaned
casually on a staff with a fork at its end, and gazed sar-
donically at the skinned beast on the ground. "I don't be-
lieve I ever saw a body go to so much trouble for his
supper," he said. "You are a mess. Blood all over you, and