The Black Witch. Laurie Forest

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       PROLOGUE

      The woods are beautiful.

      They’re my friends, the trees, and I can feel them smiling down at me.

      I skip along, kicking at dry pine needles, singing to myself, following close at the heels of my beloved uncle Edwin, who turns every so often, smiles and encourages me to follow.

      I am three years old.

      We have never walked so far into the woods, and the thrill of adventure lights up my insides. In fact, we hardly ever walk into the woods. And Uncle Edwin has brought only me. He’s left my brothers at home, far away.

      I scramble to keep up with him, leaping over curved roots, dodging low-hanging branches.

      We finally stop in a sunny clearing deep in the forest.

      “Here, Elloren,” my uncle says. “I have something for you.” He bends down on one knee, pulls a stick from his cloak pocket and presses it into my tiny fist.

      A present!

      It’s a special stick—light and airy. I close my eyes, and an image of the tree the stick came from enters my mind—a big, branchy tree, soaked in sunlight and anchored in sand. I open my eyes and bounce the stick up and down in my hand. It’s as light as a feather.

      My uncle fishes a candle out of his pants pocket, gets up and sets the candle on a nearby stump before returning to me. “Hold the stick like this, Elloren,” he says gently as he bends down and holds his hand around mine.

      I look at him with slight worry.

      Why is his hand trembling?

      I grasp onto the stick harder, trying my best to do what he wants.

      “That’s it, Elloren,” he says patiently. “Now I’m going to ask you СКАЧАТЬ