The Forest Lord
“The coachman reined in his team, taking the slope at an easy pace. Everywhere the world was white with recent snow, and the sun showed no signs of emerging to melt it away.One expected winter to be a time of quiet waiting, especially here in the rugged north. But as dull and bleak as Eden's last winter here had been, she did not remember such an atmosphere of ruin and decline. It was as if spring would never come again.Trees lining the road—coppices of pollard oak, ash, and elm—were bent in wea...riness under their burdens of snow. No few looked wasted and dead, as if struck by lightning or eaten from within by disease. And though the fields and pastures were no more than stubbled quilts of brown and white, even they seemed shadowed by death. Like Eden herself, the whole countryside wore mourning clothes.The stone cottages and farmhouses on the fellsides seemed to cling there stubbornly like the remnants of a vanished race. Huddled sheep shifted like dirty wads of wool on the inbye pastures near the farmhouses.MoreLess
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