Читать книгу Messiah is late - L. Khachatrian - Страница 2

The bare-skinned boy was running so fast that from the lashes of the wind his body had become bruised. The chest of the mount was rising up and down in parallel with the tranquil breath of the earth. He felt it throughout his body. In the far he could see the jagged cliffs bulged like an old man’s denture and could understand that it was time to be transformed.

There was a pit in front of him. The boy slowed down for a while, took a breath, and then ran so fast that his chest tore apart from the middle. He shoved himself onward. Jump. His muscles strained. An instant. His bones were clattering seethingly in his body. The fangs were lengthening with pain. Short fur was growing on his skin. Descent. He growled and already a panther he leaped ahead. The wounded wind like a lame dog was barely crawling after him.