Anibal Coton

“Just because something is traditional is no reason to do it, of course. Piracy, for example, is a tradition that has been carried on for hundreds of years, but that doesn't mean we should all attack ships and steal their gold.”
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid

“Nawat grinned. “I was helping to steal soldiers who couldn't keep up.”

“What do you do with them?” she asked, curious. “I haven't heard of bodies being found.”

“Nor will you,” Nawat informed her, sitting on a corner of the worktable. “They were still alive when we gave them to my warriors at the edge of the jungle.”
He picked up Aly's hand and laced his fingers with hers. “My warriors will be able to say they last saw the missing soldiers alive, when the troops went on a visit to the jungle.”

Aly walked her free fingers over their entwined hands. “But why would Crown soldiers visit the jungle?”

“They didn't think they would at first,” Nawat admitted. “So my warriors show them the beauties of the deep jungle. They take away all the things the soldiers have of the civilized world, such as clothes and weapons and armor, so the soldiers will appreciate the jungle with their entire bodies. But my warriors have seen jungle before, so they get bored and leave. The soldiers stay longer.”

“Like the tax collectors,” Aly whispered, awed by the beauty of what he described. “Take away all they have and leave them to survive the jungle. If you're questioned under truthspell, you can say they were alive when you left them. And the only way they could survive naked out there . . .”
Nawat was shaking his head. Aly nodded. “I take it you don't leave them near any trails.”

“They are there to appreciate the jungle that has been untouched by humans,” Nawat told her, a teacher to a student who did not quite understand.

Aly sighed. “I am limp with envy,” she told him. “Simply limp.”
― Tamora Pierce, Trickster's Queen

“Lizards that blend into the rock do so to catch flies.”
― Margaret Weis / Tracy Hickman, Dragon Wing

“I thought of all the others who had tried to tie her to the ground and failed. So I resisted showing her the songs and poems I had written, knowing that too much truth can ruin a thing. And if that meant she wasn't entirely mine, what of it? I would be the one she could always return to without fear of recrimination or question. So I did not try to win her and contented myself with playing a beautiful game. But there was always a part of me that hoped for more, and so there was a part of me that was always a fool.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear