kajabuke: переводы

→“Father,” Doon said. “Press your hurt hand tight with your other hand. That might keep it from bleeding so much.” His father nodded and did as Doon said.

→The damaged building was called the Ark, the place where the people of Sparks stored their food supplies. The first rainstorm of the winter had been too much for one of the many rotten spots in its roof. Beams and chunks of tile fell inward. Shelves toppled. Jars and crocks broke and spilled, sacks of grain tore open, and rats got to the food before the cave-in was discovered. Even to begin with, there had been barely enough food stored in the Ark to get everyone through the winter. After that storm, a great part of the food was ruined.

→“Ice would slow the bleeding,” someone said. “But we don’t have any.”

→“Oh, yes,” said his father in a weak voice. “Might need another . . .” He trailed off, holding out his hand, and Doon saw that the shirt wrapped around it was already soaked with blood.

→“Can you walk, Father?” Doon asked.

→“Yes, that cut needs stitching up,” said the man who’d given his shirt. “Go quick, and maybe you can make it to the village before it rains.”

→“We have to get to the doctor,” Doon said.

→Doon’s father curled his fingers, wincing. Blood stained the shirt.

→One of the men standing nearby tore off his shirt and wrapped it around the wound. “Make a tight fist,” the man said.

→Others had gathered now, and they helped him up. Doon took his father’s arm. Enough light remained in the sky for him to see what had happened: the palm of his father’s hand was sliced open, gushing blood.

→His father struggled to his knees. In a hoarse, strangled voice, he said, “Tripped. Fell on the glass. My hand.”

→Doon ran, squelching through the mud. He found his father sprawled on the ground beside a broken window pane that had been leaning against a pile of bricks. “What happened?” Doon cried. “Are you hurt?”