Philip choked back the cry on his lips, and in that moment Bram
stopped short, standing full in the starlight, his great lungs
taking in and expelling air with a gasping sound as he listened
for his wolves. He was a giant of a man. A monster, Philip
thought. It is probable that the elusive glow of the night added
to his size as he stood there. About his shoulders fell a mass of
unkempt hair that looked like seaweed. His beard was short and
thick, and for a flash Philip saw the starlight in his eyes--eyes
that were shining like the eyes of a cat. In that same moment he
saw the face. It was a terrible, questing face--the face of a
creature that was hunting, and yet hunted; of a creature half
animal and half man. So long as he lived he knew that he would
never forget it; the wild savagery of it, the questing fire that
was in the eyes, the loneliness of it there in the night, set
apart from all mankind; and with the face he would never forget
that other thing that came to him audibly--the throbbing, gasping
heartbeat of the man's body.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57