Сумерки
Chapter 7
Ifollowedthetrailaslongasmyangeratmyselfpushedmeforward.Asthatstartedtoebb,Islowed.Afewdropsofmoisturetrickleddownfromthecanopyaboveme,butIcouldn’tbecertainifitwasbeginningtorainorifitwassimplypoolsleftoverfromyesterday,heldhighintheleavesaboveme,slowlydrippingtheirwaybacktotheearth.Arecentlyfallentree-Iknewitwasrecentbecauseitwasn’tentirelycarpetedinmoss-restedagainstthetrunkofoneofhersisters,creatingashelteredlittlebenchjustafewsafefeetoffthetrail.Isteppedoverthefernsandsatcarefully,makingsuremyjacketwasbetweenthedampseatandmyclotheswherevertheytouched,andleanedmyhoodedheadbackagainstthelivingtree.
Thiswasthewrongplacetohavecome.Ishouldhaveknown,butwhereelsewastheretogo?Theforestwasdeepgreenandfartoomuchlikethesceneinlastnight’sdreamtoallowforpeaceofmind.Nowthattherewasnolongerthesoundofmysoggyfootsteps,thesilencewaspiercing.Thebirdswerequiet,too,thedropsincreasinginfrequency,soitmustberainingabove.Thefernsstoodhigherthanmyhead,nowthatIwasseated,andIknewsomeonecouldwalkbyonthepath,threefeetaway,andnotseeme.
Hereinthetreesitwasmucheasiertobelievetheabsurditiesthatembarrassedmeindoors.Nothinghadchangedinthisforestforthousandsofyears,andallthemythsandlegendsofahundreddifferentlandsseemedmuchmorelikelyinthisgreenhazethantheyhadinmyclear-cutbedroom.
