જ⁀➴ Amanda ✿ ≽^• ˕ •^≼ ✿

“Serrated ranks of pine lined the road, with the bare branches of oaks thrusting out between them like arthritic fingers. The sky was the color of a lead slug and seemed barely higher than the trees themselves. Combined with the wagon ruts that left a ridge down the center of the road, I had the unpleasant feeling that I was riding down a giant throat.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

“The lake is lovely, is it not?" she said, looking down over the water.
"Mountain lakes so often are," I said, which was true, even if this particular one was not. It looked dark and stagnant. Lovely is not the word I would have used to describe it. In need of fire and holy water, perhaps.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

“But this place has me afraid. This dreadful house. I think I would rather face a line of rifles, even now. At least that's a human enemy.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

“I am skilled at preparing exactly two meals: handful of dry stuff pulled from saddlebags, and burnt thing on a stick. It would have been a violation of both hospitality and common decency to offer either to Miss Potter.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night