Read The Ocean at the End of the Lane for Free Online Page B

distance I could hear something rumble, like a train. It was
getting harder to see, and the sky that I could make out above the canopy of
leaves was dark, as if huge storm-clouds had moved above our heads, or as if it
had gone from morning directly to twilight.
    Lettie shouted, “Get down!” and she crouched on the
moss, pulling me down with her. She lay prone, and I lay beside her, feeling a
little silly. The ground was damp.
    â€œHow long will we—?”
    â€œShush!” She sounded almost angry. I said
nothing.
    Something came through the woods, above our heads.
I glanced up, saw something brown and furry, but flat, like a huge rug, flapping
and curling at the edges, and, at the front of the rug, a mouth, filled with
dozens of tiny sharp teeth, facing down.
    It flapped and floated above us, and then it was
gone.
    â€œWhat was that?” I asked, my heart pounding so hard
in my chest that I did not know if I would be able to stand again.
    â€œManta wolf,” said Lettie. “We’ve already gone a
bit further out than I thought.” She got to her feet and stared the way the
furry thing had gone. She raised the tip of the hazel wand, and turned around
slowly.
    â€œI’m not getting anything.” She tossed her head, to
get the hair out of her eyes, without letting go of the fork of hazel wand.
“Either it’s hiding or we’re too close.” She bit her lip. Then she said, “The
shilling. The one from your throat. Bring it out.”
    I took it from my pocket with my left hand, offered
it to her.
    â€œNo,” she said. “I can’t touch it, not right now.
Put it down on the fork of the stick.”
    I didn’t ask why. I just put the silver shilling
down at the intersection of the Y. Lettie stretched her arms out, and turned
very slowly, with the end of the stick pointing straight out. I moved with her,
but felt nothing. No throbbing engines. We were over halfway around when she
stopped and said, “Look!”
    I looked in the direction she was facing, but I saw
nothing but trees, and shadows in the wood.
    â€œNo, look. There.” She indicated with her head.
    The tip of the hazel wand had begun smoking,
softly. She turned a little to the left, a little to the right, a little further
to the right again, and the tip of the wand began to glow a bright orange.
    â€œThat’s something I’ve not seen before,” said
Lettie. “I’m using the coin as an amplifier, but it’s as if—”
    There was a whoompf! and the end of the stick burst into flame. Lettie pushed it down into the damp
moss. She said, “Take your coin back,” and I did, picking it up carefully, in
case it was hot, but it was icy cold. She left the hazel wand behind on the
moss, the charcoal tip of it still smoking irritably.
    Lettie walked and I walked beside her. We held
hands now, my right hand in her left. The air smelled strange, like fireworks,
and the world grew darker with every step we took into the forest.
    â€œI said I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” said
Lettie.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI promised I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
    â€œYes.”
    She said, “Just keep holding my hand. Don’t let go.
Whatever happens, don’t let go.”
    Her hand was warm, but not sweaty. It was
reassuring.
    â€œHold my hand,” she repeated. “And don’t do
anything unless I tell you. You’ve got that?”
    I said, “I don’t feel very safe.”
    She did not argue. She said, “We’ve gone further
than I imagined. Further than I expected. I’m not really sure what kinds of
things live out here on the margins.”
    The trees ended, and we walked out into open
country.
    I said, “Are we a long way from your farm?”
    â€œNo. We’re still on the borders of the farm.
Hempstock Farm stretches a very long way. We brought a lot of this with us from
the old country, when