We lost our home and never went back. Trackers and dogs arrived first, poking1 about the camp, uncovering what we had left behind in our evacuation. Then men in black suits came to take photographs of the holes and our footprints left in the dirt. A helicopter hovered2 over the site, filming the oval perimeter3 and well-trod pathways into the woods. Dozens of soldiers in green uniforms collected every discarded possession and carted them off in boxes and bags. A few souls shinnied underground, crawled through the network of burrows4 and emerged blinking at the sky as if they had been beneath the sea. Weeks later, another crew arrived, their heavy machinery5 rumbling6 up the hill, cutting a swath through the old trees to collapse7 the tunnels, dig them up, and bury them again, turning the earth over and over until the top ran orange with thick wet clay. Then they doused8 the ring with gasoline and set the field afire. By the end of that summer, nothing remained but ashes and the blackened skeletons of a few trees.
Such destruction did not temper the urge to return home. I could not sleep without the familiar pattern of stars and sky framed by branches overhead. Every night-sound—a snapped twig9 or a woodrat scrabbling through the brush—disturbed my rest, and in the mornings my head and neck ached. I heard, too, the others moaning in their dreams or straining behind the bushes to relieve the growing pressure in their guts10. Smaolach looked over his shoulder a dozen times each hour. Onions chewed her nails and braided intricate chains of grass. Each swell11 of restlessness was followed by a swale of listlessness. Knowing our home was gone, we kept looking for it still, as if hope alone could restore our lives. When hope faded, a morbid12 curiosity set in. We would go back time and again to worry over the bones.
Hidden in the top of tall oaks or scattered13 in pockets along the ridge14, we'd witness and whisper among ourselves, descrying15 the loss and ruin. The raspberries crushed under the backhoe, the chokecherry felled by a bulldozer, the paths and lanes of our carousals and mad ecstasies16 erased17 as one might rub away a drawing or tear up a page. That campsite had existed since the arrival of the first French fur traders, who had encountered the tribes at their ancestral territory. Homesick, we drifted away, huddling18 in makeshift shelters, lost for good.
We wandered rough country into early autumn. The influx19 of men, dogs, and machines made moving about difficult and unsafe, so we spent hard days and nights together, bored and hungry. Whenever someone roamed too far from the group, we ran into danger. Ragno and Zanzara were spotted20 by a surveyor when they crossed in front of his spyglass. The man hollered and gave chase, but my friends were too fast. Dump trucks brought in loads of gravel21 to line the dirt road carved from the highway to our old clearing. Chavisory and Onions made a game of finding gems22 among the rubble23; any unusual stone would do. By moonlight, they picked over each newly spread load, until the night when they were discovered by a driver sleeping in his rig. He sneaked24 up on them and grabbed the girls by their collars. They would have been caught if Onions hadn't snapped free and bitten him hard enough to draw blood. That driver may be the only man alive with a faery's scars lined up like beads25 in the web of skin between his thumb and finger.
On the construction site where the men dug cellars, Luchóg spotted an open pack of cigarettes resting on the front seat of an empty truck. Quiet as a mouse, he skittered over, and as he reached inside to steal the smokes, his knee hit the horn. He grabbed the Lucky Strikes as the door to a nearby outhouse burst open, and the man, tugging26 up his trousers, swore and cursed as he came looking about for the trespasser27. He hustled28 over to the truck, searched about i he cab, and then ducked his head behind the dashboard. From the edge of the forest, Luchóg could not resist any longer and struck a match in the lingering darkness. After the very first drag, he had to duck when birdshot peppered the air above his head. The man fired the shotgun again, long after my friend had disappeared, laughing and coughing, into the heart of the forest.
After these incidents, Béka clamped down on our freedoms. We were not allowed to travel alone, nor could we be on any road during the daylight. He restricted any forays into town for supplies out of fear of detection. By day, the hum of engines, the staccato of hammers echoing from our old home to wherever we had camped. By night, a haunting stillness invaded. I longed to run away with Speck29 to the library and its comforting privacy. I missed my books and papers, and my materials were few: McInnes's fading composition book, a drawing of the woman in the red coat, a handful of letters. Numbed30, I was not writing, either, and time passed unrecorded. In a way, it did not exist at all.
To gather food, Ragno, Zanzara, and I sewed together a crude net, and after much trial and error, we managed to capture a brace31 of grouse32, which we then killed and took home for dinner. The tribe made a ceremony of plucking feathers, tying them in bundles, and wearing them in our hair like the Huron. We dressed the birds and risked our first large fire of the season, allowing us to roast our meal and providing comfort on a cool night. Assembled in a small circle, our faces glowed in the flickering33 light, signs of anxious weariness in our tired eyes, but the meal would prove revitalizing. As the fire burnt down and our bellies34 filled, a calm complacency settled upon us, like a blanket drawn35 around our shoulders by absent mothers.
Wiping his greasy36 mouth on his sleeve, Béka cleared his throat to summon our attention. The chitchat and marrow37 sucking stopped at once. "We have angered the people, and there will be no rest for a long, long time. It was wrong to lose that boy, but worse still was bringing him to camp in the first place." We had heard this speech many times before, but Onions, his favorite, played the Fool to his Lear.
"But they have Igel. Why are they so mad?" she asked.
"She's right. They have Igel. He's their Oscar," Kivi said, joining the chorus. "But we don't have ours. Why should they be mad? We are the ones who have lost."
"This is not about the boy. They found us, found our home, and now bury it under asphalt. They know we are here. They won't stop looking for us until they find us and drive us from these woods. A hundred years ago, there were coyotes, wolves, lions in these hills. The sky blackened with flocks of passenger pigeons every spring. Bluebirds lived among us, and the creeks38 and rivers were fat with fishes and toads40 and terrapins41. Once it was not unusual to see a man with one hundred wolf pelts42 drying by his barn. Look around you. They come in, hunt and chop, and take it all away. Igel was right: Things will never be the same, and we are next."
Those who had finished their meals threw the bones in the fire, which sputtered43 and crackled with the new fat. We were bored by doom44 and gloom. While I listened to our new leader and his message, I noticed some of us did not accept his sermon. Whispers and murmurs45 ran along the circle. At the far end of the fire, Smaolach was not paying attention, but drawing in the dirt with a stick.
"You think you know better than me?" Béka yelled down to him. "You know what to do, and how to keep us alive?"
Smaolach kept his eyes down, pushed the point into the earth.
"I am the eldest," Béka continued. "By rights, I am the new leader, and I will not accept anyone challenging my authority."
Speck raised her voice in defense46. "Nobody questions the rules... or your leadership."
Continuing to make his map, Smaolach spoke47 so softly as to almost not be heard at all. "I am merely showing my friends here our new position, as I estimate it from the time traveled and by calculating the stars in the sky. You have earned the right to be our leader, and to tell us where to go."
With a grunt48, Béka took Onions by the hand and disappeared into the brush. Smaolach, Luchóg, Speck, Chavisory, and I huddled49 around the map as the others dispersed50. I do not remember ever seeing a map before. Curious as to how it worked and what all of the symbols represented, I leaned forward and examined the drawing, deducing at once that the wavy51 lines stood for waterways—the river and the creek39—but what to make of the perfectly52 straight line that crossed the river, the bunches of boxes arranged in a grid53, and the jagged edge between one large oval and an X in the sand?
"The way I see it"—Smaolach pointed54 to the right side of the map— "there is what's known and what's unknown. To the east is the city. And I can only guess that the smell of the air means the city is heading our way. East is out. The question is: Do we cross the river to the south? If so, we cut ourselves off from the town." He pointed with the stick to the set of squares.
"If we go south, we would have to cross the river again and again for supplies and clothes and shoes. The river is a dangerous place."
"Tell that," Chavisory said, "to Oscar Love."
Luchóg offered an alternative. "But we don't know that another town might be somewhere over the other side. No one has ever looked. I say we scout55 for a place on the other side of the river."
"We need to be near the water," I volunteered, and put my finger on the wavy lines.
"But not in the water," Speck argued. "I say north and west, stick to the creek or follow the river till it bends up." She took the stick from his hand and drew where the river curved to the north.
"How do you know it bends?" Chavisory asked.
"I've been that far."
We looked at Speck with awe56, as if she had seen the edge of the world. She stared back, defying anyone's challenge or disbelief. "Two days from here. Or we should find a place near the creek. It dries up in August and September some years, but we could build a cistern57."
Thinking of our hideaway beneath the library, I spoke up. "I vote for the creek. We follow it from the hills into town whenever we need supplies or anything. If we go too far away—"
"He's right, you know," said Luchóg, patting his chest a?d the empty pouch58 beneath his shirt. "We need things from town. Let's tell Béka we want to stay by the creek. Agreed?"
He lay there snoring, slack-jawed, his arm flung over Onions at his side. She heard our approach, popped open her eyes, smiled, and put a finger to her lips to whisper hush59. Had we taken her advice, perhaps we would have caught him at a better time, in a more generous mood, but Speck, for one, never had any patience. She kicked his foot and roused him from his slumber60.
"What do you want now?" he roared through a yawn. Since his ascension to leadership, Béka attempted to appear bigger than he was. He was trying to imply a threat by rising to his feet.
"We are tired of this life," said Speck.
"Of never having two nights in one bed," said Chavisory.
Luchóg added, "I haven't had a smoke since that man nearly shot off my head."
Béka raked his face with his palm, considering our demands in the haze61 of half-sleep. He began to pace before us, two steps to the left, pivot62, two steps to the right. When he stopped and folded his arms behind his back, he showed that he would prefer not to have this conversation, but we did not listen to such silent refusals. A breeze rattled63 the upper branches of the trees.
Smaolach stepped up to him. "First of all, nobody respects and admires your leadership more than me. You have kept us from harm and led us out of darkness, but we need a new camp, not this wandering aimlessly. Water nearby and a way back to civilization. We decided—"
Béka struck like a snake, choking off the rest of the sentence. Wrapping his fingers around Smaolach's throat, he squeezed until my friend dropped to his knees. "I decide. You decide to listen and follow. That's all."
Chavisory rushed to Smaolach's defense but was smacked64 away by a single backhanded slap across her face. When Béka relaxed his grip, Smaolach fell to the ground, gasping65 for breath. Addressing the three of us still standing66, Béka pointed a finger to the sky and said, "I will find us a home. Not you." liking67 Onions by the hand, he strode off into the night. I looked to Speck for reassurance68, but her eyes were fixed69 upon the violent spot, as if she were burning revenge into her memory.
我们失去了家园，再也没有回去。先到的是追踪者和狗，他们查探营寨，发现了我们撤退时留下的东西。接着穿黑西装的人来给洞穴和我们印在泥土上的脚印拍照。直升飞机在营地上空盘旋，拍摄的树木周界和踩平了的森林小路。几十个穿绿军装的士兵收走了所有遗弃物品，分门别类地放进箱袋里。有几个人爬到了地下，在通道中匍匐前进，出来时朝天空眨巴眼睛，好像他们去了一遭海底。几周后，来了另一拨人，他们带着沉重的机器翻山越岭，从古老的森林里开出一条通道，他们弄塌了这些地道，掘出来，再埋好，一遍遍翻着土地，湿重的黏土翻了出来，和地表的赤土混在一起。他们在圆圈里倒满汽油，放了一把火。到了夏末，什么都没剩下，只有灰烬和几棵烧焦的树。
这样的破坏也没能阻挡我们回家的愿望。抬头望不到树枝间熟悉的星星和天空，我无法入睡。晚上一有动静——一条小树枝的断裂声或一只山鼠在矮树丛中的拨拉声——我就不得安眠，到了早晨，我头痛颈酸。我也听到其他人在睡梦中呻吟，在灌木丛后翻来覆去，减轻体内渐增的压力。斯茂拉赫每个小时都会回头张望十几次。
奥尼恩斯咬指甲，把草编织成细密的链条。每次风吹草动之后大家都没精打采。我们知道家园已经被毁，但还是在寻找它，仿佛仅仅怀抱希望也能重建生活。希望落空后，病态的好奇心弥漫开来。我们一次次地回去，为那些残骸忧心忡忡。
我们躲藏在高高的橡木树顶上，或分散在山岭里的洞穴中，一边观望，一边小声交谈，眺望我们的损失和被破坏的家园。覆盆子树被锄耕机碾碎了，野樱桃树被推土机推平了，我们享受盛宴和狂欢的小路和通道被抹去了，好像擦掉了一张图画或撕去了一页纸似的。早在第一批法国草皮商到来之际，这个营地就存在了，他们在当地人世居的地盘上碰到了土著。我们心怀故土，离乡背井，在临时搭建的棚子下挤在一起，永远地迷失了。
到了早秋，我们还在荒郊野岭间奔走。人类、狗还有机器的进山使得转移变得既困难又不安全，因此我们在艰难的时日中，一直待在一起，百无聊赖，饥肠辘辘。
只要有人远离群体，我们就会遭遇危险。
劳格诺和赞扎拉从某个搜寻人员的望远镜前经过时，被发现了。他大呼小叫地追他们，但我的朋友们跑得太快了。自卸车带来了砾石，铺在从高速公路通往我们旧日空地的一条土路上。卡维素芮和奥尼恩斯玩起一种在碎石头里找宝石的游戏，只要找到特别的石头就算数。她们在月光下翻找新卸下的石头堆，但有一天晚上被睡在拖拉机里的司机发现了。他偷偷摸摸地上前擒住女孩们的衣领。要不是奥尼恩斯挣脱出来把他咬出了血，她们就会被抓了。那个司机可能是惟一一个被仙灵咬过的人，那条伤疤像串珠子一样留在大拇指和食指间的皮肤上。
在人们打桩的建筑工地上，鲁契克发现一辆空车的前座上有盒拆了包的香烟。
他像老鼠一样悄悄地掠过去，正当他进去想偷香烟时，膝盖撞到了喇叭。他一把抓住“幸运牌”烟，附近厕所的门猛地开了，男人提着裤子，骂骂咧咧地出来找小偷。
他查了车厢，搜了驾驶室，还把头伸到挡泥板下去看。在林边，鲁契克实在忍不住了，在黑暗中擦亮了火柴。他才吸了一口，就猫下腰，一颗小号铅弹在他头顶上方爆裂。那人又开了一枪，这时我的朋友早已边笑边咳跑进林子深处去了。
出了这些事后，贝卡限制我们的自由，不准我们单独外出，也不准我们白天走到路上去。因为害怕被发现，他不准许我们到镇上去偷东西充实补给。白天，无论我们在哪里扎营，还是会从老家传来机器的嗡嗡声，起伏的敲打声。晚上，四周寂静得可怕。我盼望着和斯帕克一起逃去图书馆，待在舒适的密室里。我想念我的书籍和纸，我的东西不多：麦克伊内斯的陈旧的作文簿，一张红衣女人的画像，一叠信件。我浑浑噩噩的也没有再写什么，时间不经记录地溜走。在某种意义上，时间根本不存在。
为了弄到食物，劳格诺、赞扎拉和我一起编织了一张粗陋的网，在试了很多次、出了很多错后，我们捕到了一对松鸡，把它们杀了带回家当晚餐。大家开了个拔毛庆祝会，像印第安人一样把羽毛串起来戴在头上。我们插上鸟毛，在这个季度第一次冒险点了一大堆火，烧烤鸟肉，凉飕飕的夜晚也过得很舒服。我们围成小堆，脸庞在熊熊火光中照亮了，疲惫的眼睛透着焦虑和厌倦，但这顿饭让我们精神一振。
火光渐熄，肚子填饱，一种安静的满足感油然而生，就像不在场的母亲在我们肩膀上披了一条毯子。
贝卡用袖子擦了擦油光光的嘴巴，清了清嗓子唤起我们的注意。
还在聊天的、吸骨髓的都停下来，“我们已经把人惹火了，会有很长很长时间不得安宁。我们不该把孩子丢了，但更错的是刚开始就不该把他带回来。”我们都多次听过这个调调了，他最喜欢的奥尼恩斯扮起了李尔王身边的小丑。
“但他们有伊格尔，为什么还那么生气? ”她问道。
“她说得对。他们有伊格尔。他是他们的奥斯卡，”齐维也这么说，“但我们又没有奥斯卡。他们生什么气啊? 我们才是受损失的。”
“这和男孩没关系。他们找到我们，找到我们的窝，现在用柏油把它封起来了。
他们知道我们在这儿，会不停地找我们，直到找到并把我们赶出这片森林为止。一百年前，这边山里有山狗、野狼、狮子。
每年春天，空中都会路过黑压压的鸽群。蓝知更鸟和我们生活在一起，小溪和河流里有很多鱼、癞蛤蟆和乌龟。以前一个男人把一百条狼皮挂在谷仓上晒，也不是罕见的事。看看你们周围。他们进来，打猎，砍伐，然后把东西拿走。伊格尔说得对：一切不复从前了，我们就是下一个。”
吃完饭的人把骨头丢进火里，骨头和新鲜的脂肪劈啪爆响。我们因厄运而厌烦不堪，情绪低落。我在听我们的新领袖说话时，注意到有几位并不接受他的说教，圈子里交头接耳的。在篝火的另一头，斯茂拉赫并没有注意听讲，而是用一根棍子捣着泥土。
“你觉得你懂得比我还多? ”贝卡朝他叫道，“你知道该怎么做，怎么让我们活下去? ”
斯茂拉赫垂下目光，在泥土里戳了一个点。
“我是最大的，”贝卡又说，“按道理，我是新领袖，我不会接受任何人挑战我的权威。”
斯帕克提高声音顶嘴：“没有人质疑规矩……或者你的领导权。”
斯茂拉赫继续画他的地图，他说话的声音低得别人都听不见，“我只不过给朋友们看看我们现在所处的位置，我是根据时间和天上的星星来计算的。你有权当我们的领袖，告诉我们去哪里。”
贝卡咕哝了一声，牵着奥尼恩斯的手钻入了灌木丛。斯茂拉赫、鲁契克、斯帕克、卡维素芮和我一起围绕地图而睡，其他人各自散去。
我不记得以前见过地图。我想知道地图是怎么用的，那些符号又代表什么，于是靠过去细看那张图，顿时被吸引住了，弯弯曲曲的线条代表水道——河流和小溪——但越过河流的直线、方格里的一个个小盒子、大椭圆形和沙地里的x 之间的凹凸不平的边线又代表什么呢? “我是这样看的，”斯茂拉赫指着地图的右侧，“有知道的地方，也有不知道的地方。东边是城市。我只能靠空气里的味道来猜测，城市正在向我们靠近。不管东边了，问题是：我们要不要渡河去南边? 如果那样，我们就和镇子隔绝了。”他用棍子点着那些方块。
“如果我们去南边，我们弄补给、衣服、鞋子就得一次次渡河。河流是危险的地方。”
“把这个，”卡维素芮说，“跟奥斯卡·拉甫说。”
鲁契克提出一个方案，“但我们不知道另一边会不会也有一个镇子。没有人去看过。我说我们去河对岸找个地方。”
“我们需要待在河流附近。”我说着，把手指放在曲线上。
“但不是在水里，”斯帕克纠正说，“我说去北边和西边，沿着溪滴或跟着河流走，直到它拐弯。”她从他手中拿过棍子，画出了河流折向北边的地方。
“你怎么知道它拐弯? ”卡维素芮问。
“我去过那里。”
我们都用敬畏的目光看着斯帕克，好像她曾见识过世界的边缘。
她回瞪着我们，否定每个人的挑战和怀疑。“从这里走过去两天。或者我们应该在溪流附近找个地方。有些年在八月和九月它会干涸，但我们可以建个蓄水池。”
我想到我们图书馆下面的藏身处，开口说：“我选小溪。如果我们需要供给或别的什么，可以顺着它从山上进镇子。同意吗? ”
“他说得对，你们知道，”鲁契克说，拍拍胸口和衬衫下瘪瘪的革袋，“我们需要镇上的东西。我们去跟贝卡说想要待在西边，同意吗? ”
贝卡躺在那里打鼾，张着嘴，胳膊搂着身边的奥尼恩斯。她听丑我们走近，睁开眼睛微笑起来，手指竖在嘴唇边，低声说“小声点”。
如果我们听她的话，也许就能在较好的时间，当他好脾气的时候跟他说，但斯帕克从来就是个急性子，她在他脚上踢了一下，把他惊醒了。
“现在你想干什么? ”他打着哈欠吼道。自从贝卡登上领袖宝座．就想让自己显得更为魁梧。他站起来，跃跃欲试地想干架。
“我们厌倦了这样的生活。”斯帕克说。
“从来没有两个晚上睡在同一个床上。”卡维素芮说。
鲁契克补充说：“自从那个男人在我头顶开枪，我再也没有吸过烟。”
贝卡用手揉着脸，睡意朦咙地考虑我们的要求。他开始在我前头迈步，向左走两步，转个弯，又向右走两步。他停下来把双手背在背后，让我们知道他并不想谈这件事，但我们不接受这沉默的柞绝。一阵微风拂过树梢。
斯茂拉赫走到他面前：“首先，没有人比我更尊敬和赞赏你的领导。你使我们不受伤害，把我们带出了黑暗，但我们需要一个新的营寨，而不是这样漫无目的地游荡。找个靠近水边，又有路通往文明的地方。我们决定……”
贝卡蛇一般地出击，窒住了后面的话。他卡住斯茂拉赫的脖子用力掐他，直到我的朋友跪了下来。“我做决定。你听命和服从。就是这样。”
卡维素芮奔过去帮斯茂拉赫，但被一耳光扇开。贝卡松开手后，斯茂拉赫跌倒在地，大口喘息。贝卡用一根手指指着天空，对我们三个还站着的说：“给我们找一个家的是我。不是你们。”他拉起奥尼恩斯的手，大步走进黑暗。我向斯帕克看去，想求个安心，却见她盯着暴力现场，仿佛要把报复烙进记忆。
收听单词发音 |
1
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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perimeter
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| n.周边，周长，周界 | |
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burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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doused
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| v.浇水在…上( douse的过去式和过去分词 )；熄灯[火] | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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descrying
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| v.被看到的，被发现的，被注意到的( descried的过去分词 ) | |
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ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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huddling
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| n. 杂乱一团, 混乱, 拥挤 v. 推挤, 乱堆, 草率了事 | |
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influx
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| n.流入，注入 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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rubble
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| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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trespasser
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| n.侵犯者；违反者 | |
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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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grouse
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| n.松鸡；v.牢骚，诉苦 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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terrapins
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| n.（北美的）淡水龟( terrapin的名词复数 ) | |
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42
pelts
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| n. 皮毛，投掷, 疾行 vt. 剥去皮毛，（连续）投掷 vi. 猛击，大步走 | |
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43
sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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47
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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48
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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49
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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51
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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53
grid
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| n.高压输电线路网；地图坐标方格；格栅 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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cistern
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| n.贮水池 | |
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58
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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59
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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60
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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61
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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62
pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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63
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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66
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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67
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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68
reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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69
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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