The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

I have a hole where my heart should be, she thought, and nowhere else to go.

The white horse and the black one wheeled like lovers at a harvest dance, the riders throwing steel in place of kisses.

That night the wind was howling almost like a wolf and there were some real wolves off to the west giving it lessons.

Nobody likes cravens,” he said uncomfortably. “I wish we hadn’t helped him. What if they think we’re craven too?” "You're too stupid to be craven,” Pyp told him. “I am not,” Grenn said. “Yes you are. If a bear attacked you in the woods, you’d be too stupid to run away.” “I would not,” Grenn insisted. “I’d run away faster than you.” He stopped suddenly, scowling when he saw Pyp’s grin and realized what he’d just said.

Some doors are best left closed.

He who hurries through life hurries to his grave.