Темная башня: Стрелок

           Theholleringandwhoopingwentonbehind,unabated.Sheb,theworthlessgelding,wasplayingabouttheChristianSoldiersandsomebodyhadpersuadedAuntMilltosing.Hervoice,warpedanddistorted,cutthroughthebabblelikeadullaxthroughacalf’sbrain.

           "Hey,Allie!"

           Shewenttoserve,resentfulofthestranger’ssilence,resentfulofhisno-coloreyesandherownrestlessgroin.Shewasafraidofherneeds.Theywerecapriciousandbeyondhercontrol.Theymightbethesignalofthechange,whichwouldinturnsignalthebeginningofheroldage-aconditionwhichinTullwasusuallyasshortandbitterasawintersunset.

           Shedrewbeeruntilthekegwasempty,thenbroachedanother.SheknewbetterthantoaskSheb,hewouldcomewillinglyenough,likethedoghewas,andwouldeitherchopoffhisownfingersorspumebeerallovereverything.Thestranger’seyeswereonherasshewentaboutit;shecouldfeelthem.

           "It’sbusy,"hesaidwhenshereturned.Hehadnottouchedhisdrink,merelyrolleditbetweenhispalmstowarmit.

           "Wake,"shesaid.

           "Inoticedthedeparted."

           "They’rebums,"shesaidwithsuddenhatred."Allbums."

           "Itexcitesthem.He’sdead.They’renot."

           "Hewastheirbuttwhenhewasalive.It’snotrightthatheshouldbetheirbuttnow.It’s..."Shetrailedoff,notabletoexpresswhatitwas,orhowitwasobscene.

           "Weed-eater?"

           "Yes!Whatelsedidhehave?"

           Hertonewasaccusing,buthedidnotdrophiseyes,andshefeltthebloodrushtoherface."I’msorry.Areyouapriest?Thismustrevoltyou."