Вітер у вербах
The Wild Wood
Ashestoodstilltohearken,arabbitcamerunninghardtowardshimthroughthetrees.Hewaited,expectingittoslackenpaceortoswervefromhimintoadifferentcourse.Instead,theanimalalmostbrushedhimasitdashedpast,hisfacesetandhard,hiseyesstaring."Getoutofthis,youfool,getout!"theMoleheardhimmutterasheswungroundastumpanddisappeareddownafriendlyburrow.
Thepatteringincreasedtillitsoundedlikesuddenhailonthedryleaf-carpetspreadaroundhim.Thewholewoodseemedrunningnow,runninghard,hunting,chasing,closinginroundsomethingor—somebody?Inpanic,hebegantoruntoo,aimlessly,heknewnotwhither.Heranupagainstthings,hefelloverthingsandintothings,hedartedunderthingsanddodgedroundthings.Atlasthetookrefugeinthedeep,darkhollowofanoldbeechtree,whichofferedshelter,concealment—perhapsevensafety,butwhocouldtell?Anyhow,hewastootiredtorunanyfurther,andcouldonlysnuggledownintothedryleaveswhichhaddriftedintothehollowandhopehewassafeforatime.Andashelaytherepantingandtrembling,andlistenedtothewhistlingsandthepatteringsoutside,heknewitatlast,inallitsfulness,thatdreadthingwhichotherlittledwellersinfieldandhedgerowhadencounteredhere,andknownastheirdarkestmoment—thatthingwhichtheRathadvainlytriedtoshieldhimfrom—theTerroroftheWildWood!
MeantimetheRat,warmandcomfortable,dozedbyhisfireside.
