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to block Dannys retreat。 They were bare of snow except for powdery ruffs around
their necks and muzzles。 They were all staring at him。
His breath was racing now; and the panic was like a rat behind his forehead;
twisting and gnawing。 He fought the panic and he fought the snowshoes。
(Daddys voice: No; dont fight them; doc。 Walk on them like they were your
own feet。 Walk with them。)
(Yes; Daddy。)
He began to walk again; trying to regain the easy rhythm he had practiced with
his daddy。 Little by little it began to e; but with the rhythm came an
awareness of just how tired he was; how much his fear had exhausted him。 The
tendons of his thighs and calves and ankles were hot and trembly。 Ahead he could
see the Overlook; mockingly distant; seeming to stare at him with its many
windows; as if this were some sort of contest in which it was mildly interested。
Danny looked back over his shoulder and his hurried breathing caught for a
moment and then hurried on even faster。 The nearest lion was now only twenty
feet behind; breasting through the snow like a dog paddling in a pond。 The two
others were to its right and left; pacing it。 They were like an army platoon on
patrol; the dog; still off to their left; the scout。 The closest lion had its
head down。 The shoulders bunched powerfully above its neck。 The tail was up; as
if in the instant before he had turned to look it had been swishing back and
forth; back and forth。 He thought it looked like a great big housecat that was
having a good time playing with a mouse before killing it。
( — falling — )
No; if he fell he was dead。 They would never let him get up。 They would
pounce。 He pinwheeled his arms madly and lunged ahead; his center of gravity
dancing just beyond his nose。 He caught it and hurried on; snapping glances back
over his shoulder。 The air whistled in and out of his dry throat like hot glass。
The world closed down to the dazzling snow; the green hedges; and the whispery
sound of his snowshoes。 And something else。 A soft; muffled padding sound。 He
tried to hurry faster and couldnt。 He was walking over the buried driveway now;
a small boy with his face almost buried in the shadow of his parka hood。 The
afternoon was still and bright。
When he looked back again; the point lion was only five feet behind。 It was
grinning。 Its mouth was open; its haunches tensed down like a clockspring。
Behind it and the others he could see the rabbit; its head now sticking out of
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