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A
cool
glass
of
fresh
milk
,
and
a
few
apples
and
pears
laid
at
the
foot
of
the
steps
.
This
was
all
he
wanted
now
.
Some
sign
that
the
immense
world
would
accept
him
and
give
him
the
long
time
needed
to
think
all
the
things
that
must
be
thought
.
A
glass
of
milk
,
an
apple
,
a
pear
.
He
stepped
from
the
river
.
The
land
rushed
at
him
,
a
tidal
wave
.
He
was
crushed
by
darkness
and
the
look
of
the
country
and
the
million
odours
on
a
wind
that
iced
his
body
.
He
fell
back
under
the
breaking
curve
of
darkness
and
sound
and
smell
,
his
ears
roaring
.
He
whirled
.
The
stars
poured
over
his
sight
like
flaming
meteors
.
He
wanted
to
plunge
in
the
river
again
and
let
it
idle
him
safely
on
down
somewhere
.
This
dark
land
rising
was
like
that
day
in
his
childhood
,
swimming
,
when
from
nowhere
the
largest
wave
in
the
history
of
remembering
slammed
him
down
in
salt
mud
and
green
darkness
,
water
burning
mouth
and
nose
,
retching
his
stomach
,
screaming
!
Too
much
water
!
Too
much
land
!
Out
of
the
black
wall
before
him
,
a
whisper
.
A
shape
.
In
the
shape
,
two
eyes
.
The
night
looking
at
him
.
The
forest
,
seeing
him
.
The
Hound
!
After
all
the
running
and
rushing
and
sweating
it
out
and
half-drowning
,
to
come
this
far
,
work
this
hard
,
and
think
yourself
safe
and
sigh
with
relief
and
come
out
on
the
land
at
last
only
to
find
...
The
Hound
!
