“Something brushed his leg, and he gazed down into the face of Pippi Tucker. The theme from Jaws raced through his head.”

“His gaze swept her head to toe. “You’re wearing my colors, love.” He stalked forward and leaned down to brush her cheek with a kiss. “Soon you’ll be wearing me,” he whispered for her ears only.”

“Run,” he whispered. “Run.”“No, Rand,” I said, brushing the dirt from his face. “I’m tired of running.”“Forgive me, please.” He clutched my hand as his eyes beseeched me through tears of pain.“You’re forgiven.”He sighed once, then stopped breathing. The shine in his brown eyes dulled. I pulled his hood over his head.”

“Laurence felt his face going red; she was sitting there in breeches that showed every inch of her leg, with a shirt held closed only by a neckcloth; he shifted his gaze to the unalarming top of her head and managed to say, “Your servant, Miss Harcourt.”

“Fireheart tensed, waiting for whatever had hunted down these apprentices to emerge from the trees and attack, but nothing stirred. Feeling as if his legs hardly belonged to him, he sprang down and stumbled across to Swiftpaw.The apprentice lay on his side, his legs splayed out. His black-and-white fur was torn, and his body was covered with dreadful wounds, ripped by teeth far bigger than any cat's. His jaws still snarled and his eyes glared. He was dead, and Fireheart could see that he had died fighting.”

“With his head thrust forward like a ram, Baryba pushed his way through to the front. For some reason this was necessary, he felt with all his guts that it was necessary. He clenched his iron jaws. Something bestial stirred in him, something he hungered for, some murderous instinct. To be with everybody, to howl like everybody, to hit the one that everybody else was hitting. ("A Provincial Tale")”