“Living means constantly growing closer to death. Satisfaction only temporarily relieves hunger. Find the balance, and plant your feet.”

“Thou art hunger, yo. Make with the starvation.”

“Vivir significa acercarse constantemente a la muerte. La satisfacción sólo alivia temporalmente el hambre. Encuentra el balance, y planta tus pies.”

“In a rush, the world opened its mouth to her—and it was screaming.Everywhere—the air around her, the ground beneath her, the stars above—rippled with the soul-wrenching cries ofhunger: the trees and bushes and plants all twisted and bent, their branches and stems clawing the sky in skeletal panic; theanimals and insects, flying and crawling and burrowing, each frantic in its own way, searching incessantly to end the gnawingdemand in its belly; the swarms of people, clotting the world, stuffing themselves only to beg for more, be it food or wealth orattention—all of them, desperate, insatiable. So very hungry.All of them, leeching on to her. Sucking her dry.”

“A smile flitted across War's mouth, hidden by her helmet. She had little patience for religion (although she approved heartily of the religious fanatics who sought to cleanse the world of heresy), and the only faith War had was in cold steel and hot blood.”

“On the flat expanse of pancake ice, War stood by the Pale Rider’s side. Though their forms did not touch, their shadows intertwined, black on black, in a smoky caress.“Knew you’d come,” Death said cheerfully.She smiled, and that slow motion of her lips hinted at many things. “The White Rider divided, and the world on the brink of destruction. How could I stay away?”“I could set my watch by you.”“You don’t have a watch.” Her smile broadened into a grin. “An hourglass, maybe . . .”“Please, not another joke about a scythe . . .”She mimed zipping her mouth shut.A pause, as they listened to the sounds of the boy healing and the man summoning doom.“I like him,” War said.Even though she hadn’t specified whether she meant the boy or the man, Death smiled and nodded. “Me too.”“You like everyone.”“Well, yes.”The two shared a quiet laugh, their voices mingling in perfect harmony.A longer pause, and then War asked, “What of Famine?”“What of her? She’s not mine. Not yet, anyway. She will be soon enough.”The Red Rider slid him a look. “That’s cold, even for you.”“Eh, just practical.” A shrug. “Everyone comes to me eventually. It’s the journey that makes it interesting.”“Such a people person!”He flashed her a grin. “My best quality.”“Oh,” said War, sliding her gloved hand into his pale one, “I can think of others that are better.”

“está bien, de verdad. lo que ella yo teniamos nunca se perderá. siempre estará allí, comoun libro que tú puedesreeler. pero este capítulo en particular ha llegado a su fin.”