41
" The oak protruded from the line of the forest and spread its thick, sagging arms above and around them, like a mother hen protecting her young. “Rugget will be safe here,” Peet said as he swung himself into the lower branches and reached out to help Nia up. Far above them, barely visible through the leaves, was one of Peet’s rope-and-plank bridges, dangling between the trees. “Up we go,” he said, still not looking at Podo. He pulled up everyone except for the old man, nor did he offer to help, but turned from Podo and threaded his way up through the branches to the bridge. "
― Andrew Peterson , On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (The Wingfeather Saga, #1)
58
" tug on his line and began hauling in his catch. Sometime after midnight Edd finally reeled in a small glipper fish. Yamsa wasn’t happy about being awakened by Edd’s cry of victory, or that in the dead of night he cleaned, cooked, and ate his little fish. Edd decided the next day that for all the trouble he had gone through for that one fish, he may as well have caught several. So he purchased a spool of rope from the same merchant in Lamendron, fastened it to a net, and once again spent all morning lowering the net into the sea. This time he fastened the line to a team of oxen and had them haul in the catch. By sundown the oxen were exhausted and the catch was only halfway up the face of the cliff. Edd tied off the rope and let it hang for the night. Early the next morning he set the oxen to work again. By noon, the net full of glippers, small sharks, pinchers, and squid was pulled over the edge and onto solid ground. "
― Andrew Peterson , On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (The Wingfeather Saga, #1)
60
" Janner, You’re only two years old now. Everyone says you look just like your father, and I take it as a high compliment. A handsome boy you are! I’m no poet like your Uncle Artham, but seeing you sleep here tonight bid me sit and put down some words for you to read one day. Your mother loves you and your brother well. And she has another little one bursting to come out! Foes to this kingdom beware! These three little Wingfeathers will keep this island safe and good. I know it. You’ve royal blood in your veins, no matter what your name or place in this world. The Maker made you the Throne Warden to your little brother, and I wouldn’t wish anyone but you to keep him safe. There are rumors of war, and though I scarcely believe the half of it, should Anniera fall (and I’m sure it won’t!), remember your homeland. Ancient secrets lie beneath these stones and cities. They have been lost to us, but still, we mustn’t let them fall to evil. It occurs to me how silly it is to be writing this to a two-year-old boy. But maybe one day when you’re alone, unsure, doubting yourself, you’ll need these words. Remember this: You are an Annieran. Your father is a king. You are his son. This is your land, and nothing can change that. Nothing. Ah, and no one can change your underclothes but me. I can smell that you’ve soiled them again. Should I fall over dead from the stench in your britches, know when you read this that your father loves you like no other. Your Papa At the end of the letter was a sketch of a little boy sleeping peacefully in a crib surrounded by flowers that had withered from the smell of the child’s soiled underclothes. Janner’s heart felt large and full. He lay down in the tree house "
― Andrew Peterson , On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (The Wingfeather Saga, #1)
