"She was dead. What did it matter if icy needles of freezing rain flayed her skin raw."
Chapter 1, pg. 1

"Jondalar studied the big flathead and had the disconcerting feeling that the large brown eyes staring back were studying him. He had never been so close to one before, and he was surprised. These flatheads did not quite fit his preconceived ideas of them." Chapter 2, pgs. 24-25

"Jondalar crouched low and watched the herd through a screen of tall, golden-green grass, bent with the weight of unripe seed heads. The smell of horse was strong, not from the dry wind in his face carrying their hot rangy odor, but from the ripe dung he had rubbed on his body and held in his armpits to disguise his own scent if the wind shifted." Chapter 4, pg. 51

"Noria had listened with fascination to stories other women told of their Rites of...