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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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- Стр. 617/641
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"
Sure
,
"
said
Shadow
,
with
a
heavy
heart
.
He
was
ready
to
be
done
with
secrets
.
"
Watch
this
.
"
Where
Hinzelmann
had
been
standing
stood
a
male
child
,
no
more
than
five
years
old
.
His
hair
was
dark
brown
,
and
long
.
He
was
perfectly
naked
,
save
for
a
worn
leather
band
around
his
neck
.
He
was
pierced
with
two
swords
,
one
of
them
going
through
his
chest
,
the
other
entering
at
his
shoulder
,
with
the
point
coming
out
beneath
the
ribcage
.
Blood
flowed
through
the
wounds
without
stopping
and
ran
down
the
child
’
s
body
to
pool
and
puddle
on
the
floor
.
The
swords
looked
unimaginably
old
.
The
little
boy
stared
up
at
Shadow
with
eyes
that
held
only
pain
.
And
Shadow
thought
to
himself
,
Of
course
.
That
’
s
as
good
a
way
as
any
other
of
making
a
tribal
god
.
He
did
not
have
to
be
told
.
He
knew
.
You
take
a
baby
and
you
bring
it
up
in
the
darkness
,
letting
it
see
no
one
,
touch
no
one
,
and
you
feed
it
well
as
the
years
pass
,
feed
it
better
than
any
of
the
village
’
s
other
children
,
and
then
,
five
winters
on
,
when
the
night
is
at
its
longest
,
you
drag
the
terrified
child
out
of
its
hut
and
into
the
circle
of
bonfires
,
and
you
pierce
it
with
blades
of
iron
and
of
bronze
.
Then
you
smoke
the
small
body
over
charcoal
fires
until
it
is
properly
dried
,
and
you
wrap
it
in
furs
and
carry
it
with
you
from
encampment
to
encampment
,
deep
in
the
Black
Forest
,
sacrificing
animals
and
children
to
it
,
making
it
the
luck
of
the
tribe
.
When
,
eventually
,
the
thing
falls
apart
from
age
,
you
place
its
fragile
bones
in
a
box
,
and
you
worship
the
box
;
until
one
day
the
bones
are
scattered
and
forgotten
,
and
the
tribes
who
worshiped
the
child
-
god
of
the
box
are
long
gone
;
and
the
child
-
god
,
the
luck
of
the
village
,
will
be
barely
remembered
,
save
as
a
ghost
or
a
brownie
,
a
kobold
.
Shadow
wondered
which
of
the
people
who
had
come
to
northern
Wisconsin
a
hundred
and
fifty
years
ago
,
a
woodcutter
,
perhaps
,
or
a
mapmaker
,
had
crossed
the
Atlantic
with
Hinzelmann
living
in
his
head
.
And
then
the
bloody
child
was
gone
,
and
the
blood
,
and
there
was
only
an
old
man
with
a
fluff
of
white
hair
and
a
goblin
smile
,
his
sweater
-
sleeves
still
soaked
from
putting
Shadow
into
the
bath
that
had
saved
his
life
.
"
Hinzelmann
?
"
The
voice
came
from
the
doorway
of
the
den
.
