“In the wind, the trees, like agitated lions preparing to roar, shook their great green manes.”

“I like autumn. The drama of it; the golden lion roaring through the back door of the year, shaking its mane of leaves. A dangerous time; of violent rages and deceptive calm, of fireworks in the pockets and conkers in the fist.”

“The lion has to stay outside""He won't like it"The lion shook his mane. I looked at Curran. The lion melted. Skin stretched, bones twisted, and human Curran straightened. He was completely nude. Gloriously nude."Well," Hrefna said. "I always wondered why you went all shapeshifter. Explain things.”

“There were no lions any more. There had been lions once. Sometimes in the shimmer of the heat on the plains the motion of their running still flickered on the dry wind — tawny, great, and quickly gone. Sometimes the honey-colored moon shivered to the silence of a ghost-roar on the rising air.”

“Your hair is a tangled mess,"he said, thinking he liked it that way, like a lion's mane.”

“Love shook my heartLike the wind on the mountainrushing over the oak trees.”