As her newest apprentice, it had been my job to go to the market every morning. I had gotten all the jobs no one else wanted, but I had treated each task as if it had been essential to do well -- a trick I had learned from my father.

The past shouldn't be forgotten. It should be used as a guide for future situations and not used as a reason to avoid making difficult decisions. There was always a choice.

No," I said. "I'm not safe, Belen. Who is going to tear Kerrick's arm off if he hits me again? Come on," I urged. "Stay with us".

No. I took this job in self-defense. Quain burns everything. Belen thinks jerky is all we need to survive. Flea's idea of a good meal is something that hasn't been in a garbage can first. And Kerrick poisoned us-' 'Not on purpose,' Kerrick said. 'The meat looked done.

I balled my hands into tight fists to keep them from wrapping around Mr. I-Know-Everything's superior neck.

Knowledge, whatever the form, could be as effective as a weapon.

“Run,” he whispered. “Run.” “No, Rand,” I said, brushing the dirt from his face. “I’m tired of running.” “Forgive me, please.” He clutched my hand as his eyes beseeched me through tears of pain. “You’re forgiven.” He sighed once, then stopped breathing. The shine in his brown eyes dulled. I pulled his hood over his head.