The Hollowing
“The drawbridge had long since rotted. Across the scum-covered moat, a stagnant pool filled with decaying wood, a felled tree had been placed to make an awkward bridge. Inside, sheltering in the watchgate, Lytton and McCarthy huddled round a fire, McCarthy fussing with food on wooden skewers, Lytton smoking his black pipe and scrawling in his notebook. He glanced up as they arrived, grinning broadly. His rich Scots tones rang out to greet them. “Glad to see you! Did y’have a good journey?”
“Wet!...” said Helen irritably.
“Indeed! We saw the storm from a distance. Have you any food, Helen? As you can see, we’re down to our last two dormice—tasty enough, but I’d kill for rare roast beef with all the trimmings.”
“Can’t help you with beef, but I’m happy to go hunting.”
“God bless you,” Lytton said with a second yellow-toothed smile. “I’d sing a song of luck for you, but I’m so damned hungry I haven’t the energy. I saw wild pigs in the woods, across the way, there.”MoreLess
“Wet!...” said Helen irritably.
“Indeed! We saw the storm from a distance. Have you any food, Helen? As you can see, we’re down to our last two dormice—tasty enough, but I’d kill for rare roast beef with all the trimmings.”
“Can’t help you with beef, but I’m happy to go hunting.”
“God bless you,” Lytton said with a second yellow-toothed smile. “I’d sing a song of luck for you, but I’m so damned hungry I haven’t the energy. I saw wild pigs in the woods, across the way, there.”MoreLess
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