“This cook, Preacher? He's unbelievable. I had some of his venison chili when I first got to town and it almost made me pass out, it was so good."Hi slips curved in a smile. "You at venison, Marcie?""I didn't have a relationship with the deer," she explained."You don't have a relationship with my deer either," he pointed out."Yeah, but I have a relationship with you--you've seen me in my underwear. And you have a relationship with the deer. If you fed him to me, it would be like you shot and fed me your friend. Or something."Ian just drained his beer and smiled at her enough to show his teeth. "I wouldn't shoot that particular buck," he admitted. "But if I had a freezer, I'd shoot his brother.""There's something off about that," she said, just as Jack placed her wine in front of her. "Wouldn't it be more logical if hunters didn't get involved with their prey? Or their families? Oh, never mind--I can't think about this before eating my meat loaf. Who knows who's in it?"-Ian and Marcie”

“What the hell was that?""Puma," he said. "Mountain lion.""I knew that was a lion." She stopped suddenly. "You didn't hurt him, did you?""Marcie, he wanted to eat you! Are you worried about his soul or something?""I just wanted him to go away," she said. "I didn't want him to go dead."-Marcie and Ian”

“Ian didn't come. He just sat here with you--he said he didn't care what you looked like. He wouldn't let anyone else put a finger on your tank at all, not even me or Mel. But Doc let me watch this time. It was way cool, Wanda. I don't know why you wouldn't let me watch before. They wouldn't let me help, though. Ian wouldn't let anyone touch you but him.' Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. 'I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.”

“I can't see why you should want to dance with me now, when you never have before." The statement was more revealing than she had intended it to be. She cursed her own wayward tongue, while his speculative gaze wandered over her face."I wanted to," he surprised her by murmuring. "However, there always seemed to be good reasons not to.""Why--""Besides," Westcliff interrupted, reaching out to take her gloved hand, "there was hardly a point in asking when your refusal was a forgone conclusion." Deftly he pressed her hand to his arm and led her toward the mass of couples in the center of the room."It was not a forgone conclusion."Westcliff glanced at her skeptically. "You're saying that you would have accepted me?""I might have.""I doubt it.""I did just now, didn't I?""You had to. It was a debt of honor."She couldn't help but laugh. "For what, my lord?""The calf's head," he reminded her succinctly."Well, if you hadn't served such a nasty object in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be rescued!""You wouldn't have need to be rescued if you didn't have such a weak stomach.""You're not supposed to mention body parts in front of a lady," she said virtuously. "Your mother said so."Westcliff grinned. "I stand corrected.”

“When he came back, he fed the fire, rolled out his pallet, turned off the light and laid down. After several minutes of quiet darkness, she heard his voice. "Sorry if I scared you. I don't roar that often."-Ian to Marcie”

“Who shot you?"For a moment he looked annoyed. "I fail to see what that's got to do with anything. Reading assures me that anyone who's ever met me would have reason to shoot me, so I mustadmit with all candor that I have no idea. Was it you?""If I'd shot you I wouldn't have missed," she said."Was that wishful thinking or are you in fact a practiced shot?""Desire would have made up for lack of expertise.”