Noon, ripe as thunder and silent as thought, had fled unfingered.
Oh how I hate people!
Each day I live in a glass room unless I break it with the thrusting of my senses and pass through the splintered walls to the great landscape.
Mount and begone. The world awaits you.
I want a lot to eat, I'm going to think today.
The moon slid inexorably into its zenith, the shadows shrivelling to the feet of all that cast them, and as Rantel approached the hollow at the hem of the Twisted Woods he was treading in a pool of his own midnight.