Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [25]
Richard was not quite able to stand under the branches where they began growing out from the trunk. The branches were bare near the trunk, with needles on the ends, leaving a hollow interior. The lower branches dipped all the way to the ground. The tree was fire-resistant, as long as one was careful. The smoke from the small fire curled up the center, near the trunk. The needles grew so thick that even in a good rain it remained dry inside. Richard had waited out many a rain in a wayward pine. He always enjoyed staying in the small but cozy shelters as he traveled the Hartland.
Now he was especially glad for its concealing shelter. Before their encounter with the long-tailed gar, there had been plants and animals in the forest he had strong respect for, but there had been nothing in the woods he feared.
Kahlan sat herself down cross-legged in front of the fire. She was still shivering and kept the blanket over her head formed into a hood, and held tightly up around her chin.
“I never heard of wayward pines before. I am not used to staying in the woods when I travel, but they look like a wonderful place to sleep.” She looked even more tired than he.
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Two days ago, I think. It has all become a blur.”
Richard was surprised she could keep her eyes open. When they were running from the quad, he had barely been able to keep up with her. It was her fear that pushed her on, he knew.
“Why so long?”
“It would be very unwise,” she said, “to go to sleep in the boundary.” Kahlan watched the fire, spellbound in its warm embrace, the light from it fluttering on her face. She loosened the blanket from around her chin and let it hang so she could put her hands out to warm them closer to the fire.
A chill ran through him when he wondered what was in the boundary, and what would happen if you went to sleep there.
“Hungry?”
She nodded her head.
Richard dug around in his pack, retrieving a pot, and went outside to fill it in a pool of water at a small brook they had passed a short distance back. Sounds of the night filled air so cold it felt as if it might break if he wasn’t careful. Once again he cursed himself for leaving home without his forest cloak, among other things. The memory of what had been waiting for him at his house made him shiver all the more.
Every bug that looped past made him recoil in fear it was a blood fly, and several times he froze in midstep, only to exhale in relief when he saw it was only a snowy tree cricket, or a moth, or a lacewing. Shadows melted and materialized as clouds passed in front of the moon. He didn’t want to, but he looked up anyway. Stars winked off and back on as soft, gauzelike clouds moved silently across the sky. All except one, which did not move.
He came back in, cold to the bone, and put the pot of water on the fire, balancing it on three stones. Richard started to sit across from her, but then changed his mind and sat next to her, telling himself it was because he was so cold. When she heard his teeth chattering, she put half the blanket around his shoulders, letting her half slip from her head down to her shoulders as well. The blanket, heated by her body, felt good around him, and he sat quietly letting the warmth soak in.
“I’ve never seen anything like a gar. The Midlands must be a dreadful place.”
“There are many dangers in the Midlands.” A wistful smile came over her face. “There are also many fantastic and magical things. It is a beautiful, wondrous place. But the gar are not from the Midlands. They