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Slate had not ever seen much point to prayer, but the intensity of that silent vigil was painful to watch. It seemed cruel that any god could hear such prayers and not respond at once.
The statement made a little silence around itself.
suppose you still have to plant seeds even if there’s a war going on,
“I would like to bury the dead,” said Caliban. “Or at least burn them.” She looked down at him, startled. He seemed to be addressing her boot, his eyes downcast. He knows I’m going to say no. We don’t have time. Slate sighed, and learned something else about command. If he was in charge, he’d say no, but because he isn’t, he gets to ask. “I wish we could,” she told him. “But you know we don’t have time. I’m sorry.”
It would have been nice to have someone to lock eyes with and sigh occasionally.
his alarm was almost soothing. At least here was someone who was afraid of her, and not for her.
there are few things in life as steadying as someone you have to be brave for.
Caliban, however, took the view that when something impossible was going on, it was best to deal with it as you found it, and not stand around claiming it wasn’t happening.
Brenner let go of the dagger hilt and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her off balance, just a little, just enough so that she had to either grab at him or step back. And then, for no particular reason, she remembered Caliban holding her up in the streambed, until she could get her feet under her.
