What shall I do what shall I do? she whimpered as she ran.
Her legs were giving way. After all that time in bed she was almost as weak as the vampire-thing. Her left knee hurt like crazy. She glanced down as she crashed through some flat brown briars to see bright red blood streaming down her shin and into her sock. There was blood in the brambles she stood in. It could track her by smell too.
What shall I do?
The sensible thing was to climb a tree.
Oh, I couldnt! Ann gasped.
The creature croaked again, somewhere quite near.
Ann found strength she did not know she had. It sent her to the nearest climbable tree and swarming up it like a mad girl. Bark bit the insides of her legs. Her fingers scraped and clawed, breaking most of the fingernails she had been so proud of. She heard her nice anorak tear. But still she climbed, until she was able to thrust her head through a bush of smaller branches and scramble astride a strong bough, safe and high, with her back against the trunk and her hair raked into hanks across her face.
If it comes up, I can kick it down! she thought, and leant back with her eyes shut.
It was croaking somewhere below, even nearer, to her right.
Anns eyes sprang open. She stared down in weak horror at the path and the chest embedded in the bank beyond it. The lid had shut again. But the creature was still outside it, standing in the path almost below her, staring down at the scarlet splatter of blood Anns knee had made when she fell on the stone. She had run in a circle like a panicked animal.
Dont look up! Dont look up! she prayed, and kept very still.
It did not look up. It was busy examining its taloned hands, then putting those hands up to feel the frayed bush of its hair and beard. Ann got the feeling it was very, very puzzled. She watched it take hold of the shreds of cloth wrapped round its skinny hips and pull off a piece to look at. It shook its head. Then, in a mad, precise way, it laid the strip of rag across its left shoulder and croaked out some more words. This time, the sound was less of a croak and more like a voice.
Then despite all the rest, Ann still had trouble believing her eyes the creature grew itself clothes. The lower rags went expanding downwards in two khaki waterfalls of thick cloth, to make narrow leggings and then brown supple-looking boots. At the same time the strip of rag on the corpses shoulder was chasing downwards too, tumbling and spreading into a calf-length robe-thing, wide and pleated, the colour of camelhair. Anns lips parted almost in an exclamation as she saw the colour. She watched, then, almost as if she expected it, the long hair and beard turn the same camelhair colour and shrink away. The beard shrank right away into the mans chin, leaving his face more skull-shaped than ever, but the hair halted just below his ears. He completed himself by strapping a broad belt round his waist it had a knife and a pouch attached to it and slinging a sort of rolled blanket across his left shoulder, where he carefully fastened it with straps. After that, he gave a mutter of satisfaction and went to the edge of the path, where he drew the knife and cut himself a stout stick from the tree nearest the leaden chest.
Even before he moved, Ann was nearly sure who he was.
The long strolling strides with which he walked across the path made her quite certain. He was the tallest of the three men who had come in that car, the one who had made the gate open, the one in the odd camelhair coat. He was still wearing that coat, after a fashion, she thought, except he had made it into a robe.
He came back to the path, carrying the stick. It was no longer a stick, but a staff, old and polished and carved with curious signs. He looked up at Ann and croaked out a remark at her.
She recoiled against the tree trunk. Oh my God! He knew I was there all along! And now she was the indecent one. Comes of climbing trees in a tight skirt. The skirt was rolled up round her waist. He must be looking straight up at her pants. And her long, helpless legs dangling down on either side of the branch.
The strange man below coughed, displeased with his voice, still staring up at Ann. His eyes were light, inside deep hollows. His eyebrows met over his nose, in one eyebrow shaped like a hawk flying. He was a weird-looking man, even if you met him in the ordinary way, walking down the street. Youd think, Ann thought, youd run into the Grim Reaper.
Im sorry, she said, high-voiced with fear. I I cant understand a word youre saying and I dont want to.
He looked startled. He thought. Gave another cough. I apologise, he said. I was using the wrong language. What I said was, Ive no intention of hurting you. Wont you come down?
They all say that! Mums warning voice said in Anns head. No, I wont, Ann said. And if you try to climb up I shall kick you. And she wondered frantically, How do I get out of this? I cant sit up here all day!
Well, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? asked the man. As Ann drew breath to say that she did mind, very much, he added quickly, Ive never been so puzzled in my life. What is this place?