At the end of her life she was aware of heat but not pain. She had time to consider his eyes, eyes of that blue which is the color of the sky at first light of the morning. She had time to think of him on the Drop, riding Rusher flat out with his black hair flying back from his temples and his neckerchief rippling; to see him laughing with an ease and freedom he would never find again in the long life which stretched out for him beyond hers, and it was his laughter she took with her as she went out, fleeing the light and heat in to the silkly, consoling dark, calling to him over and over as she went, calling bird and bear and hare and fish.
paithin- ... he is orn! mother peytin's son, come to lead us to safety!"zifnab- thats it! orn, favors his mother-roland- no, he doesnt. look! hes human! wouldnt mother whats- her - name's kid be and elf- wait!i know! he is one of the lords of thillia! come back to us, like the legend foretold!zifnab- that too! i dont know why i didnt recognize him. the spitting image of his father!