Lady_of_payne: переводы

→The Glade itself was a wide, shallow bowl, covered in short grass and tree leaves. It sloped up on the end farthest from the approaching trio, ending in a sort of jutting promontory with a broad, flat top. Fritti could see two or three cats already crouching on this hilly point.

→The bowl below was rapidly filling with purring, buzzing, nose-rubbing cats, streaming into the Glade from all points of the forest. They roamed about in small groups, knots of Folk forming and breaking apart, calls sent out across the Glade to friends and relations.

→The Meeting Glade was in the center of a large forest clearing. Overhead, so high as to be almost beyond sight, the titanic branches of the old trees crossed and tangled into a vaulting roof.

→"No, she never attends, for some reason that's slipped my mind. Poor me, so awfully much to think of. Being a Master Old-singer's not falling down a gopher hole, you know. It takes work! Ah hah! There you are, Dandlegrass! It's me, Howlsong!"

→"Will the Queen be there?" gasped Pouncequick, fighting to stay abreast of the two bigger cats.

→"Well, you do know who Whitewind is, don't you?" Fritti nodded. Howlsong continued: "I'm not too sure that I understand all the deeper parts myself, but Prince Dewtreader-Fencewalker's father, you know-takes the whole thing dreadfully seriously. He tells a story, sort of, and we sing songs. It has something to do with Death, and the Fields Beyond, but I don't pay too much attention, myself. It's just about nearly boring. Most of us come for the chance to see everybody in the Court, especially the Queen's family. And the catmint, of course. Everyone likes catmint."

→"What's it all about?" questioned Fritti. "I don't mean any disrespect, but I've never heard of it."

→"No, no, quite different. Well, fairly different, anyway… Glideswallow! Ho there!" he hailed another acquaintance. "How's Pawgentle? Good, wonderful!" he cried cheerily, then turned back to his two wards. "Glideswallow is doing the Dance of Acceptance with the most unfortunate little black-and-white fela… where was I? Oh, of course, the Celebration. I suppose you don't have anything like it back home, do you? Well, the full name is the Celebration of the Song of Whitewind. We always have it at the first opening of Meerclar's Eye of the wintertime."

→"What exactly u this Celebration?" Tailchaser asked. "I mean, is it like Meeting Night?"

→The gray-and-yellow tabby looked back over his shoulder as he hurried along. "No, actually the Celebration is being held in the Meeting Glade. It's the only place where all the Folk will fit at the same time. Cats come from all over Rootwood and beyond, even, just as you two did-think of that!-to be here for the Celebration. Hello, Smackbush! Your pelt looks extremely glossy tonight!" he called out to someone he recognized.

→"Are we going to the Court itself, Howlsong?" queried Pouncequick breathlessly.

→As they wound through the tree galleries of Firsthome they found themselves caught up in a stream of Folk, most apparently headed in the same direction.

→"Absolutely splendid," laughed Howlsong. "It's all settled then. Let's be off. I shall have my tail most brutally pulled if we're late."

→"Yes, I think I would-I mean I would," said Pouncequick, rousing his diminutive form into a stretch. "I feel just fine, Tailchaser."

→"Of course 1 Don't you want to come see the terribly exciting things, Pouncequick?" Howlsong asked the sleepy kitten.

→Full of mice and drowsiness, Fritti slowly bestirred himself. "Is Pouncequick well enough to come with us?" he asked the apprentice Oel-cir'va.

→"Up now, up now, you silly snoring cats!" he cried. "There's far too much to do and see! We must get to the celebration!"

→Near the end of the Unfolding Dark, as he had promised, Howlsong returned to the bower.

→Pouncequick, stunned by the profusion of cats, sat taking in the spectacle, his eyes shining with wonder. Fritti, though, felt faintly uneasy; his fur was tingling and tickling as though trying to stand out from his body-trying to give him more room. It felt unnatural, inexplicably wrong, for the Folk to gather together in such numbers. Gathering occasionally at Meeting was one thing: almost everybody liked company from time to time. But to live together like this, day in, day out-put down your paw and step on someone's tail… well, kind as the cats of Firsthome had been to him, he wouldn't stay much longer than he had to.

→"I have to leave Firsthome. I have stayed here too long already, and I am losing my purpose-but the promise I made is just as important as it was when I made it. I cannot winter here quietly while Hushpad is undiscovered.