“The grasses spoke of this storm,” she said. “The wind carried that message back to your high oyuun, and she sent her geese to me.”
―
E.J. Lowell,
Salt
“Great Sky Above, I hope so.” Qara couldn’t quite relax her scrunched-up nose. “It smells like a dead polecat’s armpit down there.”
―
E.J. Lowell,
Salt