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  Lachlan Hardy highlighted

  “Gripe, gripe, gripe, all you ever do is gripe,” she retorted, and he laughed, teeth gleaming white through the filthy stubble of his beard, joyful only to be with her again. They were silent then, except for the wordless yelling of battle, merging with the dirty mob of the advancing forces. But he was conscious of her at his side, battle-cold and bright, filled with concentrated fire, and he wondered how he had ever thought her plain.

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  Lachlan Hardy highlighted

  Her own horror at what she had done turned to fury, fed by the weariness of her long night’s terrified searching. Through darkness and clouds of weakness, Sun Wolf could see almost nothing, but his senses, raw as if sandpapered, brought him the feel of her rage like a wave of heat. For a moment, he wondered if she would kick him where he lay or lash at him with the riding whip in her hands.

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  Lachlan Hardy highlighted

  “Success in war,” he went on, “is measured by whether or not you do what you aim to—not by whether you yourself live or die. The success of a war is not measured in the same terms as the success of a fight. Succeeding in a war is getting what you want, whether you yourself live or die. Now, it’s sometimes nicer to be alive afterward and enjoy what you’ve fought for—provided what you’ve fought for is enjoyable. But if you want it badly enough—want others to have it—even that isn’t necessary. And it sure as hell doesn’t matter how nobly or how crudely you pursue your goal, or who makes allowances or who condescends to you in the process. If you know what you want, and you want it badly enough to do whatever you have to, then do it. If you don’t—forget it.”

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