Forte

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Atreyu had long given up trying to break loose from the steel vise of the werewolf’s jaws. Dazed with fear and weakness, he was back in the Grass Ocean. Before him stood the purple buffalo he had not killed. He called to the other children, his companions of the hunt, who by then had no doubt become real hunters. But no one answered. Only the giant buffalo stood there motionless, looking at him. Atreyu called Artax, his horse, but he didn’t come, and his cheery neigh was nowhere to be heard. He called the Childlike Empress, but in vain. He wouldn’t be able to tell her anything. He hadn’t become a hunter, and he was no longer a messenger. He was Nobody.

Atreyu had given up.

But then he felt something else: the Nothing. It must be very near, he thought. Again he felt its terrible force of attraction. It made him dizzy. He sat up and, groaning, tugged at his leg. But the fangs held fast.

And in that he was lucky. For if Gmork’s jaws had not held him, Falkor would have come too late.

As it was, Atreyu suddenly heard the luckdragon’s bronze voice in the sky above him: “Atreyu! Are you there, Atreyu?”

“Falkor!” Atreyu shouted. And then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: “Falkor! Falkor! I’m here. Help me! I’m here!”

And then he saw Falkor’s white body darting like a living streak of lightning through the square of darkening sky, far away at first, then closer. Atreyu kept shouting and Falkor answered in his bell-like voice. Then at last the dragon in the sky caught sight of the boy down below, no bigger than a bright speck in a dark hole.


Mannequin in a cabin Women on leaves
Mannequin in a cabin
Women on leaves


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