H the Shadow, Chapter VII



should be venerated, lest

the great creature

shamble out and command



Shame would sacrifice all

that was near and dear and

leave behind

only pulp. The thick under-breath

of the governor hung about

H, and his heart

was open.


The ways of tenderness had

neglected him and

could not compass from terror

the thing tearing at him,

the secret hope that Maug

would stay.


All the week through as

they wandered, H

thought of an old saying:

“There are two

pays: pay beforehand and pay

you earned.”


Bankrupt and saddled, he must

bear his father’s

name. But his face,

his odor,

was not that of a horse.


“A man may be bad, but

he doesn’t like his son to feel

ashamed. Is that

why Father left? I seem

sent to this world

to be punished,

but in the other world, he

is burning.”


The father’s curse

H repaid with resolve

to love Maug.

His father’s huge hands

down among the dregs

of life

had never once hurt him

in cold blood.


He felt now for

the big, rude man. He said,

“I will hunt until I

find him. Or if we

should never meet,

I will find his brother.”


Continue to Book I, Chapter VIII

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