Запретный лес
Prologue
ButasIpickedmywaydownthehillsideinthegrowingduskIrealizedthatallmemoryoftheencirclingforesthadnotgonefromWoodileeinmychildhood,thoughthenameofMelanudrigillhadbeenforgotten.IcouldhearoldJockDodds,whohadbeenkeeperonCalidonforfiftyyears,tellingtalesformydelectationashesatandsmokedonthebigstonebesidethesmithy.Hewouldspeakofhisfather,andhisfather’sfather,andthelatterhadbeenagreatherowithhisflintlockgun."Hewouldlieinthemossorthreeonthewintermornin’s,andhimanauldman,andgetthewildswansandthegreygeesewhentheycam’owerfraeClydetoAller.Ay,andmony’sthedeerhewouldkill."AndwhenIpointedoutthattherewerenodeerinthecountryside,Jockshookhisheadandsaidthatinhisgrandfather’sdaytheBlackWoodwasnotalldestroyed."TherewasamucklelumponWindyways,andanitherthissideo’Reiverslaw."ButifIaskedformoreabouttheWood,Jockwasvague.SomesaidithadbeenfirstsetbytheRomans,othersbyAuldMichaelScotthimself...."Agrandhidy-holeforbeastsandanuncobitforwarlocks."...ItsdownfallhadbegunlongagointheDearYears,andthelastofithadbeenburntforfirewoodinhisfather’sday,inthewinteroftheSixteenDriftyDays....
Iremembered,too,thattherehadbeenplacesstillsacrosanctandfeared.ToMaryCross,ashapelessstoneinafieldofbracken,noonewouldgointhespringorsummergloaming,butthegirlsdeckeditwithwildflowersathighnoonofMidsummerDay
