He ran as he'd never run before, with neither hope nor despair. He ran because the world was divided into opposites and his side had already been chosen for him, his only choice being whether or not to play his part with heart and courage. He ran because fate had placed him in a position of responsibility and he had accepted the burden. He ran because his self-respect required it. He ran because he loved his friends and this was the only thing he could do to end the madness that was killing and maiming them.

Everything was Amelia’s fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had Kaitlin, but they were the ones paying the price and for what? To bring back a girl that he hated and wished he could kill but couldn’t? To bring back a girl who had broken her mother’s heart to such an extent that it killed her? As far as Damian was concerned, it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t deserve to come back; she didn’t deserve to live. No, Amelia deserved nothing, and especially not his love.

In battle, in a war, a soldier sees only a tiny fragment of what is available to be seen. The soldier is not a photographic machine. He is not a camera. He registers, so to speak, only those few items that he is predisposed to register and not a single thing more. Do you understand this? So I am saying to you that after a battle each soldier will have different stories to tell, vastly different stories, and that when a was is ended it is as if there have been a million wars, or as many wars as there were soldiers.

Uri stood staring at him, casually looking Gabe's body up and down before saying with a sly grin, "Well hello to you too, sexy. Does your wife know about this?" Uri then motioned with a dainty fingertip to Gabe's ensemble.Looking down, Gabe quickly realised the robe he had grabbed to cover himself with belonged to Rachel, and much to his dismay, was far too sheer for comfort at the moment. Slipping a well laid hand into place, Gabe huffed and looked at his friend in aggravation, secretly trying not to laugh.

There’s the feisty bitch I know and love. Now come on, it’s time to show Jai and his prick of a dad who the head poncho is around here.” She said giggling, as I slowly let her go and took a step back.“Head poncho, don’t you mean…?” I started before she cut me off.“Shh, let’s just pretend I didn’t say that. Now shift it missy, it’s arse whooping time. Yeehaaa.” She said, making me burst out into laughter.She was right, it was time I showed them who I am.

My body is a political battlefield.It is a place of war, of death and suffering, of triumph and victory, of damage and repair, of blood and tears and sweat.It is a place where memories go to find purpose for their existence.It is a place where humans cast all inhibitions aside to discover what exists at their very core.It is a place of growth wearing a mask of destruction.It is a challenge, not for the faint of heart, beckoning us to face it with eyes wide open.The only war is within. When you are ready to fight it, the field awaits.

Crossing the small wooden bridge, just past the rubble, Gabe ducked off to the left and swooped underneath into hiding. Once sure he was secure, and could not be seen by those that passed overhead, Gabe collapsed on to the dirt and grass. Turning on his side, his body convulsed, and relieved itself of any food that had been in his belly. Rachel was right. He was a liability. Anyone who tried to protect him ended up paying a high price. He didn’t know if his old friends were dead, but he was certain whatever fate had found them must have been bad.

But then he saw it, then he saw what he had known he was seeing and could not accept. There in the night, amid the mist, upon the flat of the plains, the shimmer of light from Allear was not right. The grasses were too flat, the mists curled awkwardly, as if impeded by some large mass and then the glamor was gone, the trick revealed. And before Thorin’s very eyes, a mass of soldiers appeared — thousands of them — wearing black and facing his camp. Doom settled around Thorin like some shroud for a watery grave. “Ah, bloody hell.

Meantime the clang of the bows and the shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armour of the combatants was now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snowflakes. All that was beautiful in the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visibke was only calculated to awaken terror or compassion.

Hot, bright heat filled him like some ecstatic poison, and Hartan's pony shied in terror as a wordless howl burst from his throat. His dripping ears were flat to his skull, fire crackled in his brown eyes, his huge sword blurred in a whirring figure eight before him, and the brigand running at him gawked in sudden panic. The raider's feet skidded in mud as he tried to brake, but it was far too late. He was face-to-face with the worst nightmare of any Norfressan, a Horse Stealer hradani in the grip of the Rage, and a thunderbolt of steel split him from crown to navel.

There was a loud shuffling above. A line of redcoats took their position at the edge of the ravine and aimed down at the rebels."Present!" the British officer screamed to his men."Present!" yelled the American officer. His men brought the butts of their muskets up to their shoulders and sighted down the long barrels, ready to shoot and kill.I pressed my face into the earth, unable to plan a course of escape. My mind would not be mastered and thought only of the wretched, lying, foul, silly girl who was the cause of everything.I thought of Isabel and I missed her."FIRE!

Browns seek knowledge, Blues meddle in causes, and Whites consider the questions of truth with implacable logic. We all do some of it all, of course. But to be Green means to stand ready. In the Trolloc Wars, we were often called the Battle Ajah. All Aes Sedai helped where and when they could, but the Green Ajah alone was always with the armies, in almost every battle. We were the counter to the dreadlords. The Battle Ajah. And now we stand ready, for the Trollocs to come south again, for Tarmon Gai'don. the Last Battle. We will be there. That is what it means to be Green. -Alanna

So he rode to a green hillock and there set his banner, and the White Horse ran rippling in the wind.'Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising,I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!'These staves he spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more lust of battle was on him; and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king: the lord of a fell people. And lo! even as he laughed at despair he looked out again on the black ships, and he lifted up his sword to defy them.

Ow!" she cried out. She would have a fresh bruise there by the time she went to sleep, somewhere out at sea. A bruise is a lesson, she told herself, and each lesson makes us better. Syrio stepped back. "You are dead now." Arya made a face. "You cheated," she said hotly. "You said left and you went right." "Just so. And now you are a dead girl." "But you lied!" "My words lied. My eyes and my arm shouted out the truth, but you were not seeing." "I was so," Arya said. "I watched you every second!" "Watching is not seeing, dead girl. The water dancer sees. Come, put down the sword, it is time for listening now.

He wanted it to be just right; he didn’t want to make the mistake of trying to tell her he loved her, and having the words come out confused or ending up saying something completely different. He changed into a fresh suit, checked his hair and took a few deep breaths to calm himself, before returning to Amelia’s chambers…only to find her gone. A sigh of frustration escaped him. It was so typical. He told her there was a surprise for her, she was excited, and he was about to confess that he loved her…of course it was only natural for her to ruin it by running off. It was so typically Amelia.