romance

And if he was kind and friendly and funny, and if he told you about places so beautiful that you wanted to go with him to see them, and if he listened to you talk like he actually cared about what you were saying? And if he tried to protect you when other people tried to tell you what to do, as if they owned you? And if he has the handsomest face you've ever seen, no matter if the skin has been damaged, because he's just lovely even so?

After you leftI stared at the drivewayFeeling its emptinessWondering if you__ return.After you leftI thought about your questionsWishing I hadn__ been so bluntWondering if I scared you away.After you leftI remembered how you felt in my arms.How you fit so perfectly there. Like my guitar.Wondering if I should have kissed you when I had the chance.After you leftI sat in my roomRemembering all the things you said, andWondering about all the things you didn__.After you leftI sat in silence.Missing you in a way I didn__ quite understand.Wondering if you__ ever come back.

The Day of Trouble is Near

The early morning sunshine shot up the ice-covered valley. It glinted off the backs of slumbering mastodon, reflected between the antlers of caribou.

One large cat bounded up the side of the outcrop to stand in full view on an overhanging boulder. She stared down at them, inside their protective enclosure, tilting her head from side to side. Her scarred yellow-brown coat was immaculately groomed, but the long tufting hair of her snout was matted with the bright red smear of uncongealed blood from a recent kill. Her upper lip curved over the top of foot-long saber teeth.

We were perfectly placed, perfectly disposed to one another. Our pieces fit so well together, not in the way that puzzle pieces are carved to click, but in a clumsier, more accidental way; we were a city skyline _ unplanned architectural mastery. Designed by the heavens, and you called me your angel _ even when I was undeserving of that accolade. You__ call yourself the devil and I__ feel betrayed. Because for me, we were the same, either two sinners or two saints.

Is there a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone?

We must love our slaves, Papa. We must love them as hard as we are able.

For whom do you cry, my son?_ the Great Spirit asked.__ do not know.___es, you do.

You deserve someone who will feel you at her side without needing to see you. And I've only felt that way about one boy.

The trouble was, I did know what I wanted from Grace Towne. I wanted to sleep with her, sure. I wanted her to be my girlfriend. A few years from now, I wanted to marry her. And then, when we were old, I wanted to drink peppermint tea and read Harry Potter to our grandchildren with her on the veranda of an old house out in the countryside as we watched a summer storm roll toward us. Was that so much to ask?

Thunderbird ascended on the heady currents of air that bore her high above the vast landscape of Túwaqachi. She stretched her broad wings, the heat lifting her through the silence, her glossy brown feathers shimmering in the sunlight.

There are so many unknowns, and so many possibilities. Sometimes there are things you can say, and talking makes it better. But sometimes, there are no words.

Do not fret, my brother, my child. For the buffalo will roam the plains once more.

Do you understand the meaning of the soil beneath your feet?

I've hated Snowflake for so long," she says. "But then I met you. And you're the person entire town has trashed, a person belonging to the group I've been raised to believe is evil, and you're the only person who is able to make me feel as if every part of me is beautiful." She is beautiful. Inside and out. My fingers tunnel into her hair again, but this time, I gently knot them in. My heart beats hard, and I open my mouth, hoping that doing so will force the right words. That I can explain being near her makes everything that's impossible about me seem possible. But the words become lodged in my throat and silence paralyzes my tongue. Breanna blinks and the hope that had been on her face disappears as she misreads my hesitation. Her hold on me loosens and she ducks her head. "Don't listen to me. I say too much around you. I was being stupid I..." More words meant to wipe away her admission spill from her mouth, but I'm not listening. My grip on her hair tightens, I lower my lips to hers and I kiss Breanna Miller.

Perhaps being Death's companion would not be the most terrible thing in the world

A twinge of fear entered Gwenwhyfarâ__s heart. It was the first she had heard of the sea farms lying in the path of danger. She wondered what had befallen a different Norseman of her acquaintance. Had her poor bodyguard, Finn, perished in one of those raids?