I don't care for werewolves. They're all right, I guess, if you go for the shedding, savaging the country-side thing. But they're not very scary nor very sexy and so what's the point?

I feel a strange, fierce squeeze in my heart when I see him, like pride, although there's nothing about Sean that I can take credit for.

I remember lying in the snow, a small red spot of warm going cold, surrounded by wolves.

The truth is, until you know any different, the island is enough. Actually, I know different. And it's still enough.

She wasn't interested in telling other people's futures. She was interested in going out and finding her own.

"That's a poor match, Sean Kendrick," says a voice at my elbow. It's the other sister from Fathom & Sons, and she follows my gaze to Puck. "Neither of you are a housewife." I don't look away from Puck. "I think you assume too much, Dory Maud." "You leave nothing to assumption," Dory Maud says. "You swallow her with your eyes. I'm surprised there's any of her left for the rest of us to see."

She had a short fuse this morning, because it was a day that ended with y, you see.