The Chatter of the Maidens

Начало книги

The fire took hold quickly.

At first, no more than a few whispers of pale smoke issued out of the isolated cottage. Lifted up on the slight breeze, the smoke broke into several tiny plumes, one of which was carried off across the steeply sloping field behind the dwelling. An old horse stood there, half asleep, eyelids drooping. He was disturbed by the smell of smoke, which penetrated even his comatose state; roused to action by the first stirrings of alarm, he shambled off up the slope, only stopping when he reached his favourite shady spot beneath the giant oak tree.

In the small time it had taken for the horse to move away to his place of safety, the fire had grown.

Grown at an alarming rate, as the tiny sparks of flame took hold of the dry material all around, licking along the pieces of straw and brittle hay, eating into the piles of tinder-dry leaves and the handfuls of soft thistledown. Then, the fire’s appetite, no longer satisfied by such small offerings, leapt faster than the blink of an eye to the neatly chopped pieces of small kindling.

Читать дальше →