Often, I get the feeling that the story is really happening somewhere and all I'm doing is trying to work out the best way to tell it.
Garth NixWhy, Yrael?” it said, as the last of the dark gave way to silver, and the shining sphere of metal sank slowly to the ground. “Why?” “Life,” said Yrael, who was more Mogget than it ever knew. “Fish and fowl, warm sun and shady trees, the field mice in the wheat, under the cool light of the moon.
Garth Nix