The man slowly approached the three children like a snarling cat. His golden sword was as sharp as a porcupine prickles. His kaleidoscopic vision could locate the children from anywhere around him. He dashed at them like hunting wolves. Ark gulped; Bill had a shiver down his spine. Jonk ordered, "Shrivel up guys!"
The three sneaked through the high grass. Heart beating, they raced across the grass as quick as a flash. The fog and snow were eating up their line of sight. Bill was panting heavily.
"Quiet!" whispered Jonk.
She spoke too soon. The leather man was gazing down at them with a gun in his hands.
Book: The Giant Under The Snow,by John Gordon, 1968
The Leather Men (Chapter 6)
The fog held everything still. The trees had swallowed the birds, and the grass bowed as
though it would die.
They kept to the track. When they came to the place where the school bus had waited,
Bill gasped with excitement; he had an appetite, as Junk had feared, for everything. She
led them through the narrow band of forest to the edge of the heath and pointed into
the fog.
“Only if you think it's necessary," she said.
Bill took the lead along the twisting rabbit tracks. The ferns were nowhere more than
waist-high. It was like wading out to sea. The forest disappeared behind them, and the
cops was still invisible, but Jonk's sense of direction was sure and whenever Bill asked
her which turning to take, she told him without having to hesitate. Once, suddenly, she
made him stop.
"What is it?” He kept his voice low and all three crouched, sinking into the ferns.
She pointed. To the right of them, at the limit of visibility, a shape humped into the mist.
Jonk's breath was thin and quick. The-shape was like the dog's black mane.
"lt's just a bit of undergrowth," said Arf
“No, it's moving. Look!
It seemed to change shape.
"It's the effect of the fog," said Bill
He led them towards it. It was a Clump of ferns standing higher than the rest but,
submerged in the fog, every shape seemed to hold a danger.
They pushed on until the trees of the grove appeared. The bare branches were black
lines drawn on the greyness, quite still. They went closer.
They felt the silence of the heath as snow began to fall. Their breath added mist to mist.
Bill clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. Then suddenly, their skin seemed to shrink, and
their flesh go iron-hard. Behind them, in the crawling white fog, came a soft, gentle
sound. Something rustled, pushing towards them. A thin figure of a man was stepping
between the trunks.
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