Ghost Hunter by Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor Read Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor
and Renn were safe. Wolf was not. It seemed to Torak that the bond between them was a fragile thread stretching through the night-- and that Eostra's icy hand was reaching out to sever it.
62
ELEVEN
The Bright Hard Cold was savaging the Forest. It was crushing trees and hurling birds from the Up. It was attacking Wolf with freezing claws.
Let it. He didn't care what happened to him. He'd been running forever, casting for the scent of the eagle owl, trying to catch the least whimper from his cub. Nothing. The Bright Hard Cold had eaten hope.
He came to a hill of roaring pines where a boulder hid a small Den. Without pausing to sniff for bears, he ran in and slumped onto broken bones and ancient scat.
He knew that Tall Tailless was seeking him, but not even the thought of his pack-brother could rouse him.
63
Darkfur and the cubs were gone. Wolf longed to be with them--but they were Not-Breath. He didn't understand how this could be. Darkfur and the cubs were ... not. Wolf shut his eyes. He wanted to be not too.
Torak was woken by silence.
He was cold--the fire was half-asleep--and the shelter had sagged till it was only just above him. His breath was loud in the stillness, frosty on his face.
The door had frozen shut. He hacked it open, waking Renn, who sat up before he could warn her, and banged her head.
Bracing himself against the cold, Torak crawled out-- into a piercing glare and a Forest turned to ice.
The storm had beheaded trees and transformed what remained to glittering spikes. It had flattened entire groves to mounds of twisted crystal. Tree, branch, leaf: all were caught fast in Eostra's prison of ice.
Slowly, Torak got to his feet. He took a few steps. The ice beneath his boots was hard as stone. The cold seared his lungs and crackled in his nose. The glare was a knife in his brain. Everywhere he turned, ruined trees flashed and glinted. The shattered Forest possessed a terrible beauty.
"Can you feel their souls?" Renn said behind him.
He nodded. The air shivered with the spirits of dead trees seeking new homes.
64
"They can't get into the saplings," said Renn. "The ice is keeping them out."
"What will they do?"
"I don't know. Let's hope the thaw comes soon."
Torak didn't think it would. A dead, windless cold lay upon the land. The hand of Eostra.
Shading his eyes with his palm, he saw a reindeer calf on the slope below. It wobbled on spindly legs, frightened by this treacherous new world, while its mother, hungry for lichen, chopped at the ground with her sharp front hooves. She couldn't break through.
Torak thought of lemmings trapped in frozen burrows; of beavers sealed inside their lodges.
He thought of Wolf.
Rip and Rek flew out of the shelter and perched on a bough, loosing a clinking cascade of shards. The echoes took a long time to die.
Renn called Torak's name, her voice shrill with alarm.
She was crouching ten paces away in the lee of a boulder, peering through the tangle of a spruce that had fallen against it. As Torak approached, she warned him back. "Wait. Don't look--"
He shouldered her aside. Between the branches, he glimpsed a patch of gray fur tipped with black. Wolf fur.
Renn was pulling his arm. He shook her off. He tore at the branches, desperate to reach--to reach what lay
65
entombed beneath the ice.
Renn wriggled past him and got there first.
Torak's world shrank to that gray fur under the rock.
Renn's voice came to him from far away. "It isn't Wolf."
She crawled backward, clutching a band of wolfhide in her mitten.
It was about the width of a hand: rolled up, frozen stiff. "It was staked in place," she said. "We were meant to find it. It's been tanned, the edges pierced for sewing. Looks like what's left of someone's clan-creature fur."
"It is." Torak took it from her and tried to unwind it. The frozen fur cracked, and something fell out. The world tilted as Torak picked up the little seal amulet. He knew the turn of
62
ELEVEN
The Bright Hard Cold was savaging the Forest. It was crushing trees and hurling birds from the Up. It was attacking Wolf with freezing claws.
Let it. He didn't care what happened to him. He'd been running forever, casting for the scent of the eagle owl, trying to catch the least whimper from his cub. Nothing. The Bright Hard Cold had eaten hope.
He came to a hill of roaring pines where a boulder hid a small Den. Without pausing to sniff for bears, he ran in and slumped onto broken bones and ancient scat.
He knew that Tall Tailless was seeking him, but not even the thought of his pack-brother could rouse him.
63
Darkfur and the cubs were gone. Wolf longed to be with them--but they were Not-Breath. He didn't understand how this could be. Darkfur and the cubs were ... not. Wolf shut his eyes. He wanted to be not too.
Torak was woken by silence.
He was cold--the fire was half-asleep--and the shelter had sagged till it was only just above him. His breath was loud in the stillness, frosty on his face.
The door had frozen shut. He hacked it open, waking Renn, who sat up before he could warn her, and banged her head.
Bracing himself against the cold, Torak crawled out-- into a piercing glare and a Forest turned to ice.
The storm had beheaded trees and transformed what remained to glittering spikes. It had flattened entire groves to mounds of twisted crystal. Tree, branch, leaf: all were caught fast in Eostra's prison of ice.
Slowly, Torak got to his feet. He took a few steps. The ice beneath his boots was hard as stone. The cold seared his lungs and crackled in his nose. The glare was a knife in his brain. Everywhere he turned, ruined trees flashed and glinted. The shattered Forest possessed a terrible beauty.
"Can you feel their souls?" Renn said behind him.
He nodded. The air shivered with the spirits of dead trees seeking new homes.
64
"They can't get into the saplings," said Renn. "The ice is keeping them out."
"What will they do?"
"I don't know. Let's hope the thaw comes soon."
Torak didn't think it would. A dead, windless cold lay upon the land. The hand of Eostra.
Shading his eyes with his palm, he saw a reindeer calf on the slope below. It wobbled on spindly legs, frightened by this treacherous new world, while its mother, hungry for lichen, chopped at the ground with her sharp front hooves. She couldn't break through.
Torak thought of lemmings trapped in frozen burrows; of beavers sealed inside their lodges.
He thought of Wolf.
Rip and Rek flew out of the shelter and perched on a bough, loosing a clinking cascade of shards. The echoes took a long time to die.
Renn called Torak's name, her voice shrill with alarm.
She was crouching ten paces away in the lee of a boulder, peering through the tangle of a spruce that had fallen against it. As Torak approached, she warned him back. "Wait. Don't look--"
He shouldered her aside. Between the branches, he glimpsed a patch of gray fur tipped with black. Wolf fur.
Renn was pulling his arm. He shook her off. He tore at the branches, desperate to reach--to reach what lay
65
entombed beneath the ice.
Renn wriggled past him and got there first.
Torak's world shrank to that gray fur under the rock.
Renn's voice came to him from far away. "It isn't Wolf."
She crawled backward, clutching a band of wolfhide in her mitten.
It was about the width of a hand: rolled up, frozen stiff. "It was staked in place," she said. "We were meant to find it. It's been tanned, the edges pierced for sewing. Looks like what's left of someone's clan-creature fur."
"It is." Torak took it from her and tried to unwind it. The frozen fur cracked, and something fell out. The world tilted as Torak picked up the little seal amulet. He knew the turn of
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