Snow Summer by Kit Peel

Author:Kit Peel
Language: ara, eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Groundwood Books Ltd
Published: 2016-09-29T17:45:09+00:00

13

—

Wyn had walked through Nidderdale all her life, but she had never seen the paths that Thwaite led her along that night.

They went on secret ways that hugged close to stone walls and hedges and that ran in the shadows of trees. Paths appeared in impenetrable bramble thickets. As they neared Pateley Bridge and Wath, tunnels opened for them in the riverbank. Although Wyn walked in darkness, to her eyes these roads through the earth were clear as day. Then they were stepping out onto the shores of Gouthwaite Reservoir, snow blowing hard over its icy surface.

Every so often the path alongside the reservoir vanished under snow drifts the height of stone walls. Thwaite plowed through the deep powder, carving a way for Pip and Wyn. The earth spirit was breathing hard, but his pace never slowed. Often he glanced over his shoulder, scanning the landscape behind them, then drove on harder still. Wyn didn’t notice when Thwaite finally stopped. She crashed into the back of the earth spirit.

“We’re here,” he said.

They were standing in front of three sprawling hawthorn trees that lay a stone’s throw from the ice and were surrounded by a mass of snow and brambles. The hawthorns were growing so close together their branches interlocked. Cobwebs stretched across the few gaps in the branches, billowing in the wind. The whole effect was of a giant, rotting spider’s nest.

A long, drawn-out howl came from far off through the darkness. Wyn had never heard anything quite like it. It was too bleak to be a dog, and, despite herself, Wyn shivered at the sound. She saw again the huge white bear rising up above her, teeth and claws bared.

“Wolves. I’ve not heard them here for three hundred winters,” said Thwaite, squinting uphill towards Fountain’s Earth Moor. Wyn picked out dark shapes, heads low to the snow, moving just below the skyline.

Pip was fretting, baring her teeth in the direction of the wolves.

“Don’t be so daft,” said Thwaite, catching the collie by the scruff and leading her to a gap in the brambles where two hawthorn branches hung down, forming a sort of archway. Thwaite shoved Pip through the gap. The collie disappeared, crashing through the unmistakeable sound of leaves.

“You, too,” he told Wyn.

From beyond the archway, Wyn caught the scent of flowers and heard Pip’s soft cough. She ran her hand around the archway, and, as she did, white blossom and green leaves materialized, hanging down like curtains. Drawing them apart, Wyn stepped forward into Thwaite’s home.

The wind and snow vanished and she was walking over a deep carpet of white and purple thyme flowers into a living space that was every bit as unexpected as the cavern had been. It was the size of a small barn, but far more comfortable and colorful than any barn Wyn had seen. Two large chairs, with deep cushions of sheep’s wool and leaves, were set by a stone hearth and beyond them a kitchen table with two plain chairs and a massive dresser.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.