Вино из одуванчиков

           Knucklesstruckhismouth. Hetastedrustywarmblood,grabbedTomhard,heldhimtight,andsoinsilencetheylay,heartschurning,nostrilshissing. Andatlast,slowly,afraidhewouldfindnothing,Douglasopenedoneeye. 

           Andeverything,absolutelyeverything,wasthere. 

           Theworld,likeagreatirisofanevenmoregiganticeye,whichhasalsojustopenedandstretchedouttoencompasseverything,staredbackathim. 

           Andheknewwhatitwasthathadleapeduponhimtostayandwouldnotrunawaynow. 

           I’malive,hethought. 

           Hisfingerstrembled,brightwithblood,likethebitsofastrangeflagnowfoundandbeforeunseen,andhimwonderingwhatcountryandwhatallegianceheowedtoit. HoldingTom,butnotknowinghimthere,hetouchedhisfreehandtothatbloodasifitcouldbepeeledaway,heldup,turnedover. ThenheletgoofTomandlayonhisbackwithhishandupintheskyandhewasahead fromwhichhiseyespeeredlikesentinelsthroughtheportcullisofastrangecastleoutalongabridge,hisarm,tothosefingerswherethebrightpennantofbloodquiveredinthelight. "Youallright,Doug?"askedTom. 

           Hisvoicewasatthebottomofagreenmosswellsomewhereunderwater,secret,removed. 

           Thegrasswhisperedunderhisbody. Heputhisarmdown,feelingthesheathoffuzzonit,and,faraway,below,histoescreakinginhisshoes. Thewindsighedoverhisshelledears.