In the saddle again, Fire mulled over the commander's trust, prodding it around, like a candy in her mouth, trying to decide whether she believed it.
Kristin CashoreI’m as old as both of you,” she said, even though she suspected she
wasn’t, “and I’m smarter, and I can probably fight as well as you can.
You’re crying.”
“I’m not.”
“Right,” he said mildly. “I suppose you got rained on.
I'm afraid of plenty of things," he said. "I just do them anyway.
Kristin CashoreTags: bitterblue saf
A man who fights you as he does is no better than an opportunist and no worse than a thug.
Kristin CashoreTags: fighting graceling opportunist
...you could not measure love on a scale of degrees, and now she understood that it was the same with pain. Pain might escalate upward and, just when you thought you'd reach your limit, begin to spread sideways, and spill out, and touch other people, and mix with their pain. And grow larger, but somehow less oppressive. She had thought herself trapped in a place outside the ordinary feeling lives of people; she had not noticed how many other people were trapped in that place with her.
Kristin CashoreYour sadness is one of the things that makes you beautiful to me. Don't you see that? I understand it. It makes my own sadness less frightening." (Brigan)
Kristin CashoreYes," Bitterblue said. "I suppose you could convert everything into minutes. Twelve times sixty is seven hundred twenty, and fifteen times fifty is seven hundred fifty. So our seven-hundred-twenty-minute half day equals its seven-hundred-fifty-minute half day. Let's see...Right now, the watch reads a time of nearly twenty-five past two. That's one hundred twenty-five total minutes, which, divided by seven hundred fifty, should equal our time in minutes divided by seven hundred twenty...so, seven hundred twenty times one hundred twenty-five is...give me a moment...ninety thousand...divided by seven hundred fifty...is one hundred twenty...which means...well! The numbers are quite neat, aren't they? It's just about two o'clock. I should go home.
Kristin CashoreYou're good at love," she said simply, because it seemed to her that it was true. "I'm not so good at love. I'm like a barbed creature. I push everyone I love away."
He shrugged. "I don't mind you pushing me away if it means you love me, little sister.
And what was it about the dark that made her question things she’d never questioned before, in the day.
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