Her eyes were distant, and she seemed to be listening to that voice that first told her the story, a mother, sister, or aunt. Then her voice, like her singing, cut through the crickets and crackling fire.
Shannon HaleShe's as fetching as brown hair done up with ribbons blue The mountain, my lady She's as sweet as pink flowers made bright with morning dew, Mount Eskel, my lady
Shannon HaleGoodness knows she is too fierce for you Goodness knows she has eyes for a lord Goodness knows she yet will prove untrue Her cheek's blush is as false as her word
Shannon HaleI keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.
Shannon Hale