I knew he wouldn't come, but I howled anyway, and when I did, the other wolves would pass images of him to me of what he looked like: lithe, gray, yellow-eyed. I would pass back images of my own, of a wolf on the edge of the woods, silent and cautious, watching me. The images, clear as the slender-leaved trees in front of me, made finding him seem urgent, but I didn't know how to begin to look.
Maggie StiefvaterI think thatโs a mercy of this island, actually, that it wonโt give us our terrible memories for long, but let us keep the good ones for as long as we want them.
Maggie Stiefvater