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1 " Idiot," I said, before grinning broadly and crushing his mouth to mine. " We need to pick new pet names for each other," he muttered as I hefted myself up from the ground. "
2 " It just doesn't seem right to spend your entire life drinking, when you could be exploring the world." " Or," Zhy said as he hefted a mug to his lips, " it doesn't seem right to be risking your life running down warlocks when you could be sitting on a nice, warm bar stool. "
3 " When he pursed his lips and dropped a hand into his coat pocket, the last thing Nur expected him to pull out was a cricket ball. " I'd hoped for a disruptor at least," she muttered reprovingly. The Doctor slipped three fingers around the ball and hefted it experimentally. " I thought we'd try something a little less excessive." He breathed gently on to the maroon leather and polished it on his leg as the Sontaran finally tossed the Kshatriya aside and stopped to pick up its fallen weapon. He stepped around the corner, sighting along his free arm as the Sontaran straightened, its back fully turned. The cricket ball flashed down the length of the corridor in the blink of an eye, punching into the back of the Sontaran's collar and ricocheting away. To Nur's astonishment, the alien spasmed and crashed to the floor like a falling tree. " Out for a duck," the Doctor commented, blowing across his fingertips. " I've never seen anything killed by a cricket ball before." " You haven't yet. He'll wake up in a few minutes. "
4 " In a mounting panic the samnite hefted his rifle and delivered a blast straight to Skullhammer's chest, point blank. Once again, torment and debilitation failed to ensue. 'Well, this is awkward,' said Juno. "
― Christopher Brookmyre , Bedlam
5 " Lifting the pillow, he brought out kanarack's gun and hefted it in his hand. Tipping it toward him, he saw the hole where death came out. It looked easy. Even seductive. The Simplest way of all. No more fear of the police, or of the tall man. Best of all, his pain would be instantly gone. He Wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. "
6 " Maisie stepped out and moved as if there were gravity. " Are you coming or what?" Rook nodded and hefted Steve with him. " You should consider counseling." " For what?" " Your God complex. "
7 " Antonia Valleau cast the first shovelful of dirt onto her husband’s fur-shrouded body, lying in the grave she’d dug in their garden plot, the only place where the soil wasn’t still rock hard. I won’t be breakin’ down. For the sake of my children, I must be strong. Pain squeezed her chest like a steel trap. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of loam and pine. I must be doing this.She drove the shovel into the soil heaped next to the grave, hefted the laden blade, and dumped the earth over Jean-Claude, trying to block out the thumping sound the soil made as it covered him. Even as Antonia scooped and tossed, her muscles aching from the effort, her heart stayed numb, and her mind kept playing out the last sight of her husband. The memory haunting her, she paused to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow, her face hot from exertion in spite of the cool spring air.Antonia touched the tips of her dirty fingers to her lips. She could still feel the pressure of Jean-Claude’s mouth on hers as he’d kissed her before striding out the door for a day of hunting. She’d held up baby Jacques, and Jean-Claude had tapped his son’s nose. Jacques had let out a belly laugh that made his father respond in kind. Her heart had filled with so much love and pride in her family that she’d chuckled, too. Stepping outside, she’d watched Jean-Claude ruffle the dark hair of their six-year-old, Henri. Then he strode off, whistling, with his rifle carried over his shoulder. She’d thought it would be a good day—a normal day. She assumed her husband would return to their mountain home in the afternoon before dusk as he always did, unless he had a longer hunt planned.As Antonia filled the grave, she denied she was burying her husband. Jean-Claude be gone a checkin’ the trap line, she told herself, flipping the dirt onto his shroud.She moved through the nightmare with leaden limbs, a knotted stomach, burning dry eyes, and a throat that felt as though a log had lodged there. While Antonia shoveled, she kept glancing at her little house, where, inside, Henri watched over the sleeping baby. From the garden, she couldn’t see the doorway.She worried about her son—what the glimpse of his father’s bloody body had done to the boy. Mon Dieu, she couldn’t stop to comfort him. Not yet. Henri had promised to stay inside with the baby, but she didn’t know how long she had before Jacques woke up. Once she finished burying Jean-Claude, Antonia would have to put her sons on a mule and trek to where she’d found her husband’s body clutched in the great arms of the dead grizzly. She wasn’t about to let his last kill lie there for the animals and the elements to claim. Her family needed that meat and the fur. She heard a sleepy wail that meant Jacques had awakened. Just a few more shovelfuls. Antonia forced herself to hurry, despite how her arms, shoulders, and back screamed in pain.When she finished the last shovelful of earth, exhausted, Antonia sank to her knees, facing the cabin, her back to the grave, placing herself between her sons and where their father lay. She should go to them, but she was too depleted to move. "
― Debra Holland , Healing Montana Sky (Montana Sky, #5)
8 " Thanks, Ms Wilding.’She raised one eyebrow. ‘Who?’ ‘You must be Tom’s daughter, the photographer. You look like him. A prettier version, sexy, even.’ His laugh was a smoky rumble as he spun on his heel. ‘Don’t presume to know anything about me, Mr Lawson.’He hefted his pack and strode away, power in the length of stride. "
9 " Percy hefted a bronze grenade. ‘I hope you labelled these right.’ He yelled, ‘Die, Romans!’ and lobbed the grenade over the wall. "
― Rick Riordan , The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus, #5)