Long Black Curl Read Online Free

it in places. She knew, though, that this all meant she was going the right way. She appreciated that confirmation, since she hadn’t been in this area in a frighteningly long time.
    She took off her sunglasses. She appeared to be a woman of about thirty, with the dusky skin and jet-black hair typical of the Tufa. Unlike the generally straight or slightly wavy hair of most, though, hers poked long ebony ringlets out from under her ski cap. She had high cheekbones, big green eyes, and full lips. She was attractive, but would never be beautiful. And the determination in her eyes had frightened away many a weak-souled man.
    As she rested, she watched a squirrel run down the length of a fallen log, leaving little puffs of snow in its wake. It scampered up a tree trunk and disappeared into the bare branches. She smiled, stretched, and sighed with contentment. She’d been away too long.
    She sang:
    The snow it melts the soonest when the wind begins to sing;
    And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is spring;
    But when spring goes, and winter blows, my lad, and ye’ll be glad,
    For all your pride, to follow me, be ye either joy or sad.
    When she finished, she laughed to herself. Such a simple thing, singing, and she’d been separated from it for so long.
    She looked up at the slope. It appeared particularly difficult, which meant she didn’t have far to go.
    Just then her cell phone rang. She took it out and stared at it, surprised that she got any reception here. Indeed, it was only the faintest single bar. She pushed the TALK button and said, “What?”
    A distinctly British voice said, “Hello, my dove. Do you know what I’ve seen in the last half hour?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing. Not a bloody thing. I keep waiting for the wonders of nature to appear, but it seems they’ve taken the day off. Unless you count sticks.”
    â€œBored, huh?”
    â€œOne could say that.”
    â€œCan’t you read your book?”
    â€œI finished it. The butler did it, by the way.”
    â€œWhat was it called again?”
    â€œThe Butler Did It.”
    â€œWell, play games on your phone, then.”
    â€œI don’t dare. I’m afraid to use up the battery, in case I have to wander through the forest in search of rescue.”
    â€œYou go wandering through this forest, my friend, you won’t need rescue.”
    â€œSee? That is not reassuring. You’re actually quite terrible at reassuring people.”
    â€œYou’re a grown man, you shouldn’t need—”
    â€œBloody hell!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSome sort of animal! Just outside the truck!”
    â€œWhat does it look like?”
    â€œA bloody big bird! Like an ostrich, only it’s green!”
    â€œSounds like an emu. Probably got out of somebody’s yard.”
    â€œIt’s gigantic!”
    â€œIt’s just a bird, you big baby.”
    â€œI think it can hear you. It’s looking this way.”
    â€œIt just sees its reflection in the windows.”
    â€œCan it break the glass?”
    â€œI don’t think so. Just ignore it, it’ll go away.”
    â€œHow much longer will you be?”
    She looked back up the trail. “Not long. If I can get a signal, I’ll call you when I start back down.”
    â€œWell, if a bird answers, hang up.”
    She put away the phone and resumed her climb.
    *   *   *
    The old man opened the door set into the side of the hill and squinted out into the light. The trees were bare, and the winter sun filtered through them onto the fresh snow. The air bit at him, cold and damp.
    A woman stood on the old railroad ties that made up his front porch. She wore a stylish fur-edged leather coat, expensive boots, and sunglasses.
    He put the electrolarynx against his scarred throat and said, “Yeah? This ain’t no camp shelter. Get your ass off my property.” The voice came out