Запретный лес

           TheWoodwasonhimagain,butadifferentwood,hisownwood.Thehazelssnuggledclosetotheroadside,andthefeatherybirchesandrowansmadeacanopy,notashadow.Theoakswereancientfriends,thealdersoldplaymates.Hishorsehadrecovereditssanity,andDavidrodethroughthedew-drenchednightinahappyraptureofremembrance.

           HewasridingupRood--thathadalwaysbeenthethinghehadhopedtodo.HehadneverbeenevensofarasCalidonbefore,foraboy’sday’smarchisshort.Buthehadpromisedhimselfthatsomedaywhenhewasamanhewouldhaveahorse,andridetotheutmostsprings--toRoodhope-foot,tothecrinkleinMossFellwhereRoodwasborn...."Upthewater"hadalwaysbeenlikeaspellinhisear.Herememberedlyinginbedatnightandhearingaclamouratthemilldoor:itwasmenfromupthewater,droversfromMoffat,herdsfromthebackofbeyond,onceapartyofsoldiersfromthesouth.AndupthewaterlayCalidon,thatancientcastle.TheHawkshawswereanameinadozenballads,andthetalesofthemineveryoldwife’smouth.OncetheyhadcaptainedalltheglensofRoodandAllerinraidstotheBorder,andwhenMusgraveandSalkeldhadledareturnforay,itwastheHawkshawsthatsmotethemmightilyinthepasses.Hehadneverseenoneoftherace;themenwerealwaysatthewarsorattheKing’scourt;buttheyhadfilledhisdreams.Onefancyespeciallywasofalittlegirl--afigurewithgoldhairlikeKingMalcolm’sdaughterinthe"RedEtinofIreland"tale--whomherescuedfromsomedireperil,winningthethanksofhertallmail-cladkin.