Audiobook Danil Koretsky. Tattooed Skin listen online, download
Books enlighten the soul, elevate and strengthen a person, awaken in him the best aspirations, sharpen his mind and soften his heart.
William Thackeray, English satirist
A book is a huge force.
Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, Soviet revolutionary
Without books, we can now neither live, nor fight, nor suffer, nor rejoice and win, nor confidently move towards that reasonable and beautiful future in which we unshakably believe.
Many thousands of years ago, the book, in the hands of the best representatives of humanity, became one of the main weapons in their struggle for truth and justice, and it was this weapon that gave these people terrible strength.
Nikolai Rubakin, Russian bibliologist, bibliographer.
A book is a working tool. But not only. It introduces people to the lives and struggles of other people, makes it possible to understand their experiences, their thoughts, their aspirations; it makes it possible to compare, understand the environment and transform it.
Stanislav Strumilin, academician of the USSR Academy of Sciences
There is no better way to refresh the mind than to read the ancient classics; As soon as you take one of them in your hands, even for half an hour, you immediately feel refreshed, lightened and cleansed, lifted and strengthened, as if you had refreshed yourself by bathing in a clean spring.
Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher
Anyone who was not familiar with the creations of the ancients lived without knowing beauty.
Georg Hegel, German philosopher
No failures of history and blind spaces of time are able to destroy human thought, enshrined in hundreds, thousands and millions of manuscripts and books.
Konstantin Paustovsky, Russian Soviet writer
The book is a magician. The book transformed the world. It contains the memory of the human race, it is the mouthpiece of human thought. A world without a book is a world of savages.
Nikolai Morozov, creator of modern scientific chronology
Books are a spiritual testament from one generation to another, advice from a dying old man to a young man beginning to live, an order passed on to a sentry going on vacation to a sentry taking his place.
Without books, human life is empty. The book is not only our friend, but also our constant, eternal companion.
Demyan Bedny, Russian Soviet writer, poet, publicist
A book is a powerful tool of communication, labor, and struggle. It equips a person with the experience of life and struggle of humanity, expands his horizon, gives him knowledge with the help of which he can force the forces of nature to serve him.
Nadezhda Krupskaya, Russian revolutionary, Soviet party, public and cultural figure.
Reading good books is a conversation with the best people of past times, and, moreover, such a conversation when they tell us only their best thoughts.
René Descartes, French philosopher, mathematician, physicist and physiologist
Reading is one of the sources of thinking and mental development.
Vasily Sukhomlinsky, an outstanding Soviet teacher-innovator.
Reading is for the mind what physical exercise is for the body.
Joseph Addison, English poet and satirist
A good book is like a conversation with an intelligent person. The reader receives from her knowledge and a generalization of reality, the ability to understand life.
Alexei Tolstoy, Russian Soviet writer and public figure
Do not forget that the most colossal weapon of multifaceted education is reading.
Alexander Herzen, Russian publicist, writer, philosopher
Without reading there is no real education, there is no and there can be no taste, no words, no multifaceted breadth of understanding; Goethe and Shakespeare are equal to a whole university. By reading a person survives centuries.
Alexander Herzen, Russian publicist, writer, philosopher
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Danil Koretsky
Tattooed skin
- Come on, Karzuby, inject the sucker with anesthesia! He will know how to live on chanterelles!
Four drunken degenerates - one of those who in the zone are called “cormorants”, or “horn-throwers”, or something worse, beat up a decent house guy who, to his own misfortune, recklessly jumped out at dusk from behind a reliable steel door into the concrete jungle capital - either to the store, or to the pharmacy, or for some other everyday need. More precisely, he was beaten by one - in a pink Swede shirt, torn to the navel and with his front teeth crumbled. Two of his friends rubbed around nearby, grinning maliciously and sometimes giving the victim a kick or a jab. The lanky man was clearly the leader in this company; he stood a little to the side, enjoyed the spectacle and made fun of himself to the best of his ability.
- Make him a clown, beat him off! Gee-gee-gee...
The man was clearly not adapted to such alterations: he did not try to resist or run away, he only awkwardly covered his broken face with his hands and backed away towards the river, unwisely moving away from people for whose help he obviously had no hope at all.
And indeed, among the curious there were clearly no people willing to come to his rescue. But unexpectedly the number of spectators increased. Screams and blows attracted the attention of a tall, fair-haired guy walking along the sidewalk with a worried look; he changed his route and entered the twilight of the square.
A blue shirt with long, out-of-season sleeves clung tightly to broad shoulders and a triangular back, jeans and white sneakers completed the outfit. Women should have liked the guy - blond of the Nordic type, high forehead, developed brow ridges, powerful straight nose with a slightly deformed bridge, wide chin with a dimple. The look of Superman from a Hollywood movie, the embodiment of masculinity and strength.
But he also didn’t want to interfere: unlike on-screen heroes, real supermen have their own problems. Looking at the scene of the beating, he winced and turned to leave.
After another blow, the man fell. The guy in jeans walked slowly towards Komsomolsky Prospekt and didn’t see it.
- Lubricate the attic, Karzuby, and stroke the crown! – the long one squealed enthusiastically. Unlike a dozen onlookers warily shifting from foot to foot, he was clearly not afraid of anything.
And the fair-haired one didn't like it. He winced again and turned around. His movements became fast and purposeful. Pushing aside a large man with a plastic bag in his hands, the guy cut through the circle of curious people and actively intervened in the course of events.
- Stop, jackals! - he barked, easily throwing Karzuby aside. - Quickly get out of here while you're still alive!
The guy was not only athletically built, but determined and self-confident. Cold blue eyes squinted intently at their opponents. It was clear that this was no ordinary person. This is how the owner, the leader, the bear behaves in a wolf pack, and if the attackers were sober, they would most likely take advantage of the advice. But they were drunk, moreover, they were on their territory, and the unknown person, despite his arrogance and strength, was a stranger here. Three pairs of dull eyes stared questioningly at the elder.
03
Apr
2013
Tattooed skin (Danil Koretsky)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 192kbps
Koretsky Danil
Year of manufacture: 2013
Genre: Detective
Publisher: DIY audiobook
Artist: Gloom79
Duration: 14:31:57
Description: Even as a child, he realized that brute force matters more in life than a kind word. When he was drafted into the army, chance threw him into a special forces brigade, where this conviction was strengthened, and his ability to use force in various ways increased significantly. Overthrowing the regime in Africa, arresting major government officials, buying foreign passports from pickpockets - this is not a complete list of the things he had to do. They changed his name, biography, habits and even his appearance, densely covering his body with tattoos. Volkov - Wolf - Painted became a completely different person. And, ultimately, the tattoos on his body determined his fate.
The audiobook contains profanity.
2. Painted
3. On the trail of the Devil
16
May
2011
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Author: Honore de Balzac
Year of manufacture: 2006
Genre: foreign classics
Publisher: MediaKniga
Performer: Mikhail Rozenberg
Duration: 10:49:00
Description: “Shagreen Skin” is one of the most famous and beloved novels by the French writer Honore de Balzac (1799 - 1850). The young man lost money in a casino and decided to take his own life. He wandered around the city, waiting for the evening, and wandered into an antique shop. The owner of the shop, seeing the condition of the young man, offered him to purchase a talisman - a piece of shagreen leather with the Seal of Solomon. The inscription translated means...
24
May
2015
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Author: Honore de Balzac
Year of manufacture: 2014
Genre: Classic
Publisher: Can't buy it anywhere
Performer: Evgeniy Ternovsky
Duration: 13:21:14
Description: Can you win if you make a deal with the devil? This question has never left both writers and readers indifferent. If you are young, in love and ambitious, but you know that all your dreams are doomed due to lack of money, then can you resist the temptation to pay with your own life for the fulfillment of your desires? The young man lost money in a casino and decided to take his own life. He wandered around...
14
but I
2013
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 128kbps
Author: Honore de Balzac
Year of manufacture: 2006
Genre: classic
Publisher: Audiobook
Performer: Valery Zakharyev
Duration: 12:18:36
Description: Honore de Balzac entered the history of literature as the creator of “The Human Comedy” - a one-of-a-kind artistic encyclopedia of life in France in the 19th century. The most significant and striking work of this epic is the novel “Shagreen Skin”. When you are young, in love and ambitious, but you know that all your dreams are doomed due to lack of money, can you resist the temptation to pay the deadline...
14
but I
2013
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 128kbps
Author: Honore de Balzac
Year of manufacture: 2013
Genre: classic
Publisher: ARDIS
Performer: Dmitry Orgin
Duration: 12:25:40
Description: “Shagreen Skin” is a philosophical novel by the famous French writer Honore de Balzac from the “Human Comedy” series. The main character, the young aristocrat Raphael de Valentin, left without a single sou in his pocket, decides to take his own life. Wandering aimlessly through the streets of Paris, he wanders into an antiquities shop, where the old owner offers him a magical talisman - a piece of shagreen that can fulfill any wish. ...
29
May
2013
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Format: audio play, MP3, 128kbps
Author: Honore de Balzac
Year of manufacture: 2010
Genre: Romance, classic
Publisher: Radio Russia
Artist: see below
Duration: 06:40:56
Description: A deal with the devil - this question interested more than one writer and more than one of them has already answered it. What if everything can be turned around so that you end up winning? What if Fate smiles on you this time? What if you become the only one who manages to outwit the forces of evil?.. So thought the hero of the novel “Shagreen Skin”. He lost money in a casino and was ready to take his own life, when suddenly fate gave him a sh...
10
Mar
2012
Leather. The X-Files (Ben Metzrich)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 64kbps
Author: Ben Metzrich
Year of manufacture: 2011
Genre fiction
Publisher: Project SViD - Fairy Tales for Adults and Children
Performer: Oleg Shubin
Duration: 06:25:58
Description: Another book about world-famous FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. In my personal rating it is somewhere in the middle, together with Anderson’s “Epicenter” before Charles Grant’s “Goblins”, but inferior to “Ruins”, “Antibodies” and “Bloody Wind”. Professor Perry Stanton is admitted to a hospital with a severe burn on his thigh. A quiet, peace-loving man who has never had trouble with the law. Oops...
05
Aug
2016
Star Platoon-4. Steel skin (Nikolai Andreev)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 96
Author: Nikolay Andreev
Year of manufacture: 2016
Genre: Action fantasy
Publisher: Can't buy it anywhere
Performer: Andrey Vasenev
Duration: 11:08:58
Processed by: shniferson
Description: Tino Ayato, Oles Khrabrov and Jacques de Cregnan, risking their lives, played their own political game. They entered into a secret agreement with the Moresville clans of hetaeras and three-eyes. Now the soldiers could pass through the city unhindered. Strange, inexplicable visions forced the Russian to begin searching for the ancient Olivia relic - the Cross of Consor. The young man doesn't have much faith...
19
Jun
2013
Drum skin, or Seville communion (Arturo Perez-Reverte)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 96kbps
Author: Arturo Perez-Reverte
Year of manufacture: 2013
Genre: Romance
Publisher: Can't buy it anywhere
Performer: Vorobyova Irina
Duration: 20:03:01
Description: Arturo Perez-Reverte (b. 1951) is a modern Spanish writer whose novels, written in the genre of intellectual detective stories, brought him world fame. Created in the last decade of the 20th century, they have already won the hearts of millions of readers. A talented prose writer, a brilliant connoisseur of history and art, a master of detective intrigue, Perez-Reverte constantly throws new mysteries into the flames of our...
Bitrate: 64 kbps
Sample rate: 44100 Hz
Total duration: 07:42:36
Description: If you want to find out the details of the puzzling cases solved and unsolved by a restless couple of FBI special agents, if you want to look behind the scenes of the crime, if you want to look at what happened through the eyes of not only people, but also paranormal creatures, read...
PAINTED
Danil KORETSKY
The hero of the novel "Tattooed Skin" Volkov-Wolf-Painted is back in battle. A former special forces reconnaissance soldier, a participant in combat operations, performs a particularly important task of political significance. He has to go through all the circles of prison hell, the language, laws and customs of which he knows well. Physical strength, experience as a boxer, icy composure, and ingenuity help him withstand monstrous tests. And also... tattooed pictures on the skin, which, contrary to the laws of nature, behave like living beings...
Part one
ESCAPE FROM CUSTODY
The wheel of the paddy wagon fell off at the most inopportune moment - when turning on a steep cliff towards a deep blue lake, which gives its name to a small town located on the opposite bank. Sixty thousand inhabitants, a mechanical plant and a pasta factory, dense forests around, clean air, picturesque lakes... It was not listed on large-scale general maps, but was well known in specific areas.
The provincial town became famous due to the Sineozersk transit and transit prison, built in the last century: all the stages of strict and special regime correctional labor colonies went through it to the Ural bush.
The special vehicle that suffered the accident was carrying another batch of especially dangerous convicts from the railway station, and when it turned sharply along an uneven dirt road, there was a disgusting crunch of bursting iron, a blow, and the car skidded sharply, taking it straight to the cliff... Slowly, as if in slow motion, it tilted to starboard, passed the critical point and overturned, after which it quickly rolled downhill, kicking up a cloud of dust and unnaturally flashing three wheels and a rusty peeling bottom with an exhaust pipe burnt out in several places.
Below, a smooth blue surface shone coldly, under which a seven-meter layer of water awaited prey. Hanging in the cab next to the driver, the nachkar, through the flickering of the gray sky and the ground covered with lush green grass, figured out the situation, managed to open the door and jumped out, but was immediately crushed by the roughly riveted steel body. The paddy wagon crashed into a thin birch tree, broke it with a crash, came across several thicker trees, which, springing, extinguished the inertia, and, lying on its side, stopped at the very edge of the rocky shore.
In the silence that followed, the rustling of sliding pebbles, the gurgling of pouring liquid, and someone’s moans could be heard. There was a strong smell of gasoline.
- Open, listen, open, it’s about to explode! - a muffled, heart-rending scream broke through the steel side.
- Really, why are you crazy? Let me out, otherwise we'll burn to hell...!
- The cops are filthy, garbage faces!
The shell-shocked sergeant-driver barely got out of the cab and, holding his head, began to spin in one place.
- Comrade Lieutenant! - he shouted hoarsely. - Where are you?
- Open up! Open up! - Muscular fists pounded from the inside against the dull humming of the iron casing.
- Comrade Lieutenant! - The driver stopped and looked around. His gaze gradually gained meaning; he saw a helplessly overturned uniform cap, and then the commander of the convoy himself. - Comrade Lieutenant! I'm coming now!
Limping and wincing, the sergeant hobbled towards the commander and helplessly dropped his hands: white fragments of ribs protruded through his blood-black uniform.
The paddy wagon made a scraping sound and slid twenty centimeters closer to the water.
- Sit there quietly, you'll drown like puppies! - It seemed to the sergeant that he, as usual, growled at the rioting prisoners, but in fact it turned out not to be a growl, but a quiet wheeze.
“Open it quickly, Fedun,” the internal guard suddenly spoke up, and the sergeant belatedly remembered his comrades locked in the stinking belly of the prisoner’s van.
- Now, guys, now. - He fussily jingled his keys. - How are you, are you safe?
“Volodka is very hurt,” answered the same voice. - He needs to be taken to the hospital.
Why are you messing around there?
- Well, there’s one thing that doesn’t work out here...
The driver tried to stop the paddy wagon, frozen in an unstable balance, with the trunk of a broken tree, but he did not have enough strength, and with a wave of his hand, he climbed onto the scratched side, unlocked the lock and with difficulty lifted the door, as he once lifted the hatch leading to the cool underground in his native village. . Only now from the black rectangle there was a smell not of pleasant dampish coolness and the smell of food prepared for the winter, but of the stench of unwashed human bodies, vomit and blood.
- Give me a hand!
Corporal Shcheglov's face was pale, blood was flowing from his cut forehead. He struggled out, looked around and cursed.
- We're stuck! Now this thing will drown! We need to get Volodka out!
- What should we do with these?
- What should we do with them... Let them sit. Our job is to protect them. It is prohibited to unlock cameras along the route...
“You can’t do that, Comrade Corporal,” a reasonable voice was heard from the darkness. - We are people, not animals. And you people. And people in trouble should help each other. If this is the case, we need to be saved. And we will help you.
“It’s true, we can’t get Volodka out on our own,” the driver whispered loudly. - I’m really bad, my head is spinning, my whole insides hurt. Open this one, let him help...
- A spy?! Are you really... Better than Katal... Give me the keys...
Sighing heavily, Shcheglov reluctantly slipped back into the stinking darkness.
Trying to keep his heavy boots away from the deathly white face of Volodka Strepetov prostrate below, he fell in a heap onto the left wall of the van that had become hollow and, straightening up with difficulty, climbed into the overturned, low, like an animal hole, corridor between the blocks of cells. The hot bodies of the prisoners were hidden in eight tiny steel compartments; through small holes drilled in circles one could hear heavy breathing, bio-waves of fear and an animal thirst for freedom.
“Be careful,” the driver croaked, catching himself. His head began to hurt less, and he realized that they had made two very serious mistakes.
Firstly, the cell can be opened only if the convoy has a clear physical and numerical superiority: for a particularly dangerous contingent, this ratio is three to one. Secondly, guards never approach prisoners with weapons, and the one who receives them upon disembarkation must give his pistol to his comrades. But now all the rules and regulations have gone to hell.
- Listen, be careful...
The paddy wagon creaked dangerously and moved again, the sergeant’s thoughts instantly switched. Very carefully, he slid to the ground and with both hands rested against the steel side, as if he could hold a three-ton colossus.
- Come on faster, Sashok... Faster...
Corporal Shcheglov unlocked the second cell. Catala was a frail fellow; at the station he generously treated the convoy to cigarettes and told a couple of funny jokes.
It seemed that no trouble could be expected from him.
- Get out, help...
Shcheglov did not have time to finish his sentence. The bony fingers grabbed his throat with superhuman strength, pressing his Adam's apple into his larynx and blocking the access of air to his lungs. A jerk - and the back of the corporal's head hit the iron with a thud. Greedy hands quickly ransacked the limp body and took possession of the gun and keys.
Locks clicked feverishly, sweaty bodies in gray sweaty robes, like snakes awakening from hibernation, burst out of cramped iron boxes, collided, intertwined in an awkward ball, angrily pushed each other away, desperately striving for the ghostly light of unexpected freedom glimmering ahead.
- Well, that's it? - the sergeant asked without looking up when someone climbed aboard the van.
- All! - an unfamiliar voice responded with ominous intonations.
- Who is this?! - The sergeant raised his head and froze: the stooped, broad-shouldered prisoner was pointing a pistol at him.
Their gazes met. The left eye of the shorn recidivist was half-closed; instead of the right, the nine-millimeter pupil of the barrel was blackened. The next second it flashed with a withering flash, and a sharp blow of thunder smashed the sergeant's forehead bone to smithereens.
- Is everything okay, Zubach?
The Platypus elastically jumped out of the hatch, then the tense face of Grusha appeared, followed by the cheerfully grinning Catala.
- It's all me, me! You wouldn't have gotten out without me!
Dancing nervously, so that his arms dangled as if on hinges, he looked around.
- Are the cops ready? Come on, Grusha, take their guns away!
- What about those? - Zubach nodded towards the dark opening, from where viscous blows were heard, as if a piece of raw beef was being beaten with a grooved hammer.
- Ferret deals with them...
- I got it, you idiot! Now you won’t be able to tear it off until the evening!
The triangular head of the Skeleton appeared into the light of day. Sunken eyes, prominent cheekbones, sloping chin. Usually it was colorless, like a linen louse. Sparse stubble of blond hair, invisible eyebrows, watery eyes, porous gray skin. But now red splashes colored the forehead, cheeks, neck...
- Look what he's doing. “The skeleton slid like a snake onto the side of the van and began rubbing its face with its sleeve. - I'll be a bitch, I'm completely crazy! They ended a long time ago, and he wets and wets...
- Pooh! Pooh! - Grusha put on a lieutenant’s cap and aimed at his friends with two pistols at once. - The convoy fires without warning!
- That's right, you need to put on your uniform! - Zubach spat. - And let’s move quickly, there’s no point in sitting here...
- Hey, what about us?! What are you doing, for real?! - Two pairs of fists pounded on the body. - Unlock it!
The paddy wagon jerked once again. The Platypus and the Skeleton hastily jumped down and ran to the side. Zubach spat contemptuously after them.
- Come on, Catala, release Jaw and Painted. And take Ferret. If it doesn’t work, to hell with it!
A few minutes later, three more people emerged from the hatch. The sharp-faced Ferret, covered in bloody streaks, feverishly clutched a red, lacquered tire iron and looked around madly. Tall, athletic, Painted was supporting a forty-year-old pithecanthropus-like gypsy with a jutting, massive jaw. He carefully cradled his unnaturally curved right hand.
- The infection probably broke a bone! - The gypsy’s lips curled painfully.
“We’re lucky that the cameras are small,” said Catala, feeling his shoulders.
- The cops were beaten to a pulp!
“And the Ferret beat them to death,” the Skeleton bared his teeth.
- Enough talking! - Gnat said gloomily, looking from Jaw's broken arm to the pistol clutched in his palm. - How will you walk with such a claw?
The gypsy stopped grimacing, looked unkindly, ran his good hand over his cheek, thickly overgrown with black stubble.
- Very simple. I don't walk on my hands!
- Okay, let's see...
Zubach put the weapon in his belt.
- Then let's get into the water and tear out our claws! Pear, give one gun to Katala!
The prison van, raising fountains of spray, plopped heavily into the lake and instantly disappeared into the depths. A huge air bubble burst to the surface, the clear water became cloudy...
When a search team arrived at the scene half an hour later, they found only broken trees and traces of blood on the green grass.
An escape, especially with an attack on a convoy, is always an emergency. The lights on the control panels of the duty units are blinking, telephones are ringing nervously, teletypes are crackling, sending out directions with signs of fugitives to all cities and towns. The doors of broken-down police UAZs clang loudly, alerted local police officers, operatives and detectives from convoy units swear, serious dogs trained to kill people growl threateningly. Reports from the field flock to the regional police department, from there an encrypted special message goes to Moscow, and high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, cursing the peripheral idiots, file it in a special control folder.
Information about the Sineozersk escape went to the Center in the usual way, but at some stage it split into two and a copy completely unexpectedly arrived at the KGB of the USSR, which was never interested in ordinary criminality. This time, the most lively interest was shown in the police information, it went to the table of the chairman himself, and then with the resolution: “Take urgent and effective measures to bring Operation Old Friend to the end,” she went down to the head of the Main Counterintelligence Directorate.
Major General Vostretsov immediately called Lieutenant Colonel Petrunov, who was directly in charge of “Old Friend,” and displeasedly handed him a coded telegram form crossed out with a red stripe.
- Here's news about your frame! Admire it!
After skimming the official text several times, the lieutenant colonel carefully placed the document on the table.
- What could he do... Decrypt and fail the operation? Besides, he would have been killed immediately!
Talking back to your boss is like peeing against the wind.
- To hell with such an operation! - The general slammed his fist on the ill-fated encryption. - We started some games with coloring, dressing up, and now also escaping! Send an operative to Darkness for a week and get results! Why complicate things?! We have many employees who could cope with this matter - quickly, without circus effects and headaches for management! How long will all this drag on now?
- Will you allow me to go to Sineozersk? - habitually holding back the irritation boiling in his chest, asked Petrunov.
- This is exactly what I order you! Take all measures to at least not shoot him during capture!
- Eat! - said Petrunov, having absolutely no idea what measures could be taken here. The situation was out of control, and the Wolf's life was in his own hands.
The evening forest rustled ominously around me, grabbed my clothes with its green paws, tried to put a snag under my foot or poke me in the face with a sharp branch.
It was as if a mocking goblin was playing with travelers who had gotten lost in his domain, but he did it hesitantly, on the sly, afraid to come close.
And indeed, a company making its way through the bushes could scare away all the forest evil spirits. Ahead, looking back every now and then, like a pickpocket out on the route, was a Skeleton in a lieutenant's uniform torn on the chest - wet and covered with brown spots. Behind him, with the decisiveness of a tank, Per Grusha, in his footsteps, the Platypus carefully walked in a poorly washed uniform with sergeant's shoulder straps, behind him, Ferret angrily chopped off tenacious branches with a washed tire iron, Zubach maintained a two-meter distance, behind him was Katala in a tattered corporal uniform, Jaw and Painted brought up the rear procession. The gypsy held his broken arm and moaned muffledly from time to time, and the Painted One moved silently, controlling his gait so as not to habitually fall into the forest step of a scout. Anxious thoughts swarmed feverishly in my head.
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