Book of a Thousand Days

by Shannon Hale

that’s so near how the conversation went, I’m going to call it truth.

sometimes I think crying’s done for and it’s time for doing.

his voice slinked in like smoke.

laid her out on the open steppes under the Eternal Blue Sky, with her feet pointed at the Sacred Mountain so her soul would know which way to walk.

The total black filled my eyes and nostrils and throat and felt like forever.

held her head to my shoulder, rocking her, rubbing her back. Poor thing, I don’t think she knows where to put the whole world.

What a strange, dark world that swallows people whole.

I’m a stubborn mare sometimes and must dangle my own carrot.

The smell of fish cooking is rich enough to wake up the trees,

knew I couldn’t be broken any more than I was. There’s some comfort in that.

He has a smile to be proud of.

Privacy’s a strange notion to a mucker, where five in a tent is a roomy place.

Sometimes my fancy gets to floating inside me, threatening to carry me away like a leaf on a wind. Better to be a stone.